<?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-5110027227122884689</id><updated>2011-10-10T23:02:01.661-07:00</updated><category term='Fabulousness of Being Female'/><category term='Camp'/><category term='The Uglies'/><category term='Thinking'/><category term='Me being an Idiot'/><category term='Sleepless'/><category term='Stressed'/><category term='GrowingUp'/><category term='Gushing'/><category term='Loneliness'/><category term='Causing trouble'/><category term='Boys'/><category term='Art of Boy Stealing'/><category term='Infallacies of Love'/><category term='Life as I know It'/><category term='Dreams'/><category term='Day Job'/><title type='text'>Change of Pace</title><subtitle type='html'>Change can be a good thing every now and then.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>115</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5235657485198585986</id><published>2011-07-18T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T14:25:17.098-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><title type='text'>Empty house</title><content type='html'>Living with roomates is great.  Really, its nice to come home to  have some one to talk to.  Left overs that you didn't have to cook, and someone to watch the pup.&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes I wish they would all just go away so I can have the house to myself.  For the whole day.&lt;br /&gt;Every morning I wake up and peer out the window to see whose cars are still here because sometimes they sleep until five or six in the evening.  It's weird.  And so the only way I know if they're gone is if their trucks are gone.  I beginning to think one never works more than once or twice a week for like two hours at a time.  One works all the time managing to have one day off during the week - which also happens to be my only day off, of course.  The last one is just recently unemployed but visits enough friends and stuff to be gone at least some of the time unlike the first who is always doing some form of home improvement.&lt;br /&gt;And there always seems to be drama, somehow.  Sigh... &lt;br /&gt;So I tend to just hide in my room a lot of the time, emerging usually only when people are asleep or gone.  I feel exceptionally like a agoraphobe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5235657485198585986?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5235657485198585986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/07/empty-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5235657485198585986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5235657485198585986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/07/empty-house.html' title='Empty house'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-3515898811242403851</id><published>2011-07-04T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T11:14:57.138-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>Space out</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vyrUs9pojdU/ThIDA3r4ScI/AAAAAAAABM0/QlZStWvFG8w/s1600/IMG020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vyrUs9pojdU/ThIDA3r4ScI/AAAAAAAABM0/QlZStWvFG8w/s320/IMG020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625562198022048194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for my writing at least once a month resolution.  I missed a month.  Oh well, I've been super busy.&lt;br /&gt;I'm finally settled in at my new place.  I got a new comforter and sheets to celebrate my new space.  It's amazing what having your own space does for your sanity.  Even if I've been so busy I really haven't been here more than to sleep and shower.&lt;br /&gt;I guess there are worse problems to have.  I don't do well with boredom.&lt;br /&gt;I feel lighter now.  But that might be because I had my first day off yesterday in four weeks.  You really appreciate not having anything you HAVE to do for once after a couple of weeks of obligation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I'm being fair to everyone in my life right now.  But I'm trying to.&lt;br /&gt;I'm being chased by like three guys now.  I hear the way to do it is to just not get caught. lol&lt;br /&gt;I go hang out with M once a week which seems to make him happy.  And me.  I miss him but I'm still not ready to go back.  I'm not sure I ever will.&lt;br /&gt;Gentleman from work is super sweet.  Apparently he's had his eye on me for a while.  I was completely clueless.  I thought he came for beers - not to see me.  Not sure how to deal with that.  But he does brighten my day every time I see him.&lt;br /&gt;Dancer is completely self absorbed - or at least it seemed that way when I let him take me out on Friday to the county fair.  I met him out dancing.  He is amazing to dance with - I kinda just want to keep him around to dance with me.  He's a football coach and plays the part with all this talk of winning me a stuffed animal at the fair.  (He never even tried, though)  Sounds like all talk, to me.  Maybe I'll give him another dance.. err.. chance. lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-3515898811242403851?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/3515898811242403851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/07/space-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3515898811242403851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3515898811242403851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/07/space-out.html' title='Space out'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vyrUs9pojdU/ThIDA3r4ScI/AAAAAAAABM0/QlZStWvFG8w/s72-c/IMG020.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-4933196889462862809</id><published>2011-05-25T22:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T22:38:06.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving out and up?</title><content type='html'>I've finally moved out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-4933196889462862809?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/4933196889462862809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/05/moving-out-and-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4933196889462862809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4933196889462862809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/05/moving-out-and-up.html' title='Moving out and up?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-535320576222882354</id><published>2011-05-05T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T13:08:25.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sexy</title><content type='html'>I'm feeling exceptionally sexy today.&lt;div&gt;So much so that I've taken to walking around the house completely nude for the morning hours.  I've been sunning myself in the backyard since all the roommates has dissipated to either work or play activities yonder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just wish there was someone I could flirt with now without complicated consequences.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-535320576222882354?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/535320576222882354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/05/sexy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/535320576222882354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/535320576222882354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/05/sexy.html' title='Sexy'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-593384551028505199</id><published>2011-05-05T10:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T10:40:34.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Instinct</title><content type='html'>I've taken my mind out of the equation.  I'm running on instinct.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I doubt its a good thing.  But it is keeping me sane.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm moving out in week or so.  Life is flying by me at a record pace.  I'm just trying to keep up with it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So many lessons.  So many hours of work.  I can barely keep up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Barely succeeding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instinct.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-593384551028505199?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/593384551028505199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/05/instinct.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/593384551028505199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/593384551028505199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/05/instinct.html' title='Instinct'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5777020098698164939</id><published>2011-04-07T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T10:20:50.178-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GrowingUp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Infallacies of Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stressed'/><title type='text'>Lost</title><content type='html'>I'm still trying to figure out where I am going.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel like I just hit my life with a wrecking ball.  I'm wondering if this change I made is really what I want.  If this is really the direction I wanted to go in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I look around me and I see the rubble of my relationship at my feet and then I close my eyes and pretend its not there; Plowing through my life with my usual step.  Only now I feel a bit numb inside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I lost myself somewhere.  It was my biggest fear since I was a kid.  I've lost myself and I didn't know how to get it back.  Though the best way I know how is to have myself to myself and pick up the pieces of my identity along the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He says he didn't see it coming.  But everyone else is being supportive.  Everyone else says they've been waiting for this to happen.  Everyone else says 'you've got to do what you've got to do'.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know what I'm doing.  I'm flying blind.  I wish someone could just help me get my feet back on solid ground.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5777020098698164939?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5777020098698164939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/04/lost.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5777020098698164939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5777020098698164939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/04/lost.html' title='Lost'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-4792129130403531249</id><published>2011-03-22T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T13:21:29.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://artrider.deviantart.com/#/d25jb45"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SzOnSPhSEIw/TYkElD9deNI/AAAAAAAABMA/pEVJmCV8-Vg/s320/Fallen_from_grace__by_Be_at.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587001847494572242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just broke up with the person who works so hard to make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry.  I just couldn't do it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;It hurt too much to not be able to love you as much as you loved me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-4792129130403531249?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/4792129130403531249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/03/hurt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4792129130403531249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4792129130403531249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/03/hurt.html' title='Hurt'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SzOnSPhSEIw/TYkElD9deNI/AAAAAAAABMA/pEVJmCV8-Vg/s72-c/Fallen_from_grace__by_Be_at.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-559735947380389896</id><published>2011-03-20T15:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T16:05:01.487-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me being an Idiot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Infallacies of Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stressed'/><title type='text'>Incidentally Falling</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://artrider.deviantart.com/favourites/#/d2h8qq3"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6xOTNtRI9eQ/TYaHg10KuAI/AAAAAAAABL4/lFry70XD0dY/s320/Absolutely_anytime__by_Be_at.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586301386071128066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if you just made my life harder or easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Do you really think I'm just going to jump your bones anytime I want to hang out with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;No.  I am going to jump yours because for a super nerd, you're pretty hot with a great rack and I am sure I could do things to you that would make your head spin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I start thinking about the whole thing my heart starts to pound and my breath becomes shallow.  I feel those little flutters start in my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no way I'm falling in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;I don't know this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;He's just someone I work with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;This is just emotions running away with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I'm after that rush of being with someone new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;I can't go diving straight into a relationship after leaving one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This isn't happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;I definitely can't date someone I work with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I'm just fantasizing he has a real interest in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;I'm just a girl jumping to conclusions...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is very often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than it does."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;- Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just putting emotions in the situation that both don't belong and are probably just a consequence of my imagination.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-559735947380389896?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/559735947380389896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/03/incidentally-falling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/559735947380389896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/559735947380389896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/03/incidentally-falling.html' title='Incidentally Falling'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6xOTNtRI9eQ/TYaHg10KuAI/AAAAAAAABL4/lFry70XD0dY/s72-c/Absolutely_anytime__by_Be_at.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6186107724242736268</id><published>2011-03-17T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T10:20:17.704-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me being an Idiot'/><title type='text'>Grr...</title><content type='html'>Men are annoying.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-6186107724242736268?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6186107724242736268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/03/grr.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6186107724242736268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6186107724242736268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/03/grr.html' title='Grr...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6873029348873159187</id><published>2011-03-06T11:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T12:08:00.968-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fabulousness of Being Female'/><title type='text'>Seriously?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs36/i/2008/244/2/b/L_amour_dechire_by_j4d3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 550px; height: 402px;" src="http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs36/i/2008/244/2/b/L_amour_dechire_by_j4d3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does every guy want to see me naked?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a little shocked at the guys coming out of the woodwork suggesting I do nude photos.  Old friends from college, guys I work with.&lt;br /&gt;The balls on some of these guys astonishes me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy Crap.  I don't know what just happened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-6873029348873159187?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6873029348873159187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/03/seriously.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6873029348873159187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6873029348873159187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/03/seriously.html' title='Seriously?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-7038072209082680668</id><published>2011-03-03T10:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T13:39:13.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bastard.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2011/027/9/e/20_by_vyatkina-d385fhu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 540px; height: 303px;" src="http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2011/027/9/e/20_by_vyatkina-d385fhu.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my fault.  I let it go on for too long.&lt;br /&gt;It was fun for a little while.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm just mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought he might actually want to come hang out with me.  As a friend, no strings attached.  I could be good.  He could've just said no.  I would've left him alone.  I should've left him alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lol Could shoulda woulda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead it was a text conversation played out over several hours, his flirting and me trying to provoke him out of his hiding place.&lt;br /&gt;With absolutely nothing, in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know who he thinks I am. But I'm not some teenage sex fiend that can't control myself.&lt;br /&gt;Yes I kissed him.&lt;br /&gt;Yes I like him.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't need that.&lt;br /&gt;I need a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bastard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-7038072209082680668?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/7038072209082680668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/03/bastard.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7038072209082680668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7038072209082680668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/03/bastard.html' title='Bastard.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-3317511279117561153</id><published>2011-02-17T14:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T14:43:07.743-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me being an Idiot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GrowingUp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Causing trouble'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>Gone are the butterflies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2010/235/8/1/Hunting_for_butterflies_by_YaraKlaproos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 504px;" src="http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2010/235/8/1/Hunting_for_butterflies_by_YaraKlaproos.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying this growing up thing.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really succeeding.&lt;br /&gt;Every time I look in his direction, my knees get a little weak.&lt;br /&gt;"God, he's hot", I mutter to myself.  And then thoroughly scold myself for getting distracted again.&lt;br /&gt;"Your only going to get your heart broken," I scold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even understand where this attraction comes from.&lt;br /&gt;The night I went to see him.  I asked him mid kiss...&lt;br /&gt;"Why?"&lt;br /&gt;"Why what?"&lt;br /&gt;"Why do you like me?"&lt;br /&gt;He sighed as if disappointed with me and stated a variety of reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't fishing for compliments.  I don't even like compliments... &lt;br /&gt;They make me uncomfortable in the moment.  (More on that at a later date)&lt;br /&gt;I didn't get it.  I don't get my attraction to him.  Or his to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know if he still likes me. Ever since I told him that I told M that I kissed him, he's left me be.  Maybe to give me space.  Maybe because he's not my dirty little secret anymore.  I don't know.  It frustrates me to no end this not knowing.  Maybe it would be easier to get over this feeling, to grow up, if I knew that he'd lost interest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it is, I apparently can barely go a week without contacting him in some way shape or form.  Fortunately or unfortunately with mine and his current work schedule, we work with each other constantly.  We maintain professionalism. Him probably better than I - as much as we ever did anyway.  Innuendos abound at the restaurant.  I think it's how we stay sane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have conversations with him without him there in my head.  Trying to work through this.  Trying to justify everything I feel.  Trying to just get my head on straight and move on.  But for whatever reason, I feel like I'm being sucked in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at least the butterflies are gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been like this.  I don't pine.&lt;br /&gt;Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until him, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jerk.&lt;br /&gt;Can't even appreciate it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-3317511279117561153?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/3317511279117561153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/02/gone-are-butterflies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3317511279117561153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3317511279117561153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/02/gone-are-butterflies.html' title='Gone are the butterflies'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-2164071991019237031</id><published>2011-02-17T14:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T14:23:01.954-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Get a life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs15/f/2007/110/7/7/In_the_middle_of_the_road_by_gilad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 550px; height: 384px;" src="http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs15/f/2007/110/7/7/In_the_middle_of_the_road_by_gilad.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got off work at a decent hour last night. (Reasons notwithstanding)  I started to feel a little frisky and wanted to have a little fun and chill out with some friends.  Sent out a text once I got home received no answer.  Fed the pup.  Made some calls.&lt;div&gt;No ones home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone's sick.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some have plans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No one's available or nearby to hang out with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It sucks...  I tried to get a little life in my life and no one's around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sigh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe next time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-2164071991019237031?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/2164071991019237031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/02/get-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2164071991019237031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2164071991019237031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/02/get-life.html' title='Get a life.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-2551507094318821154</id><published>2011-02-10T21:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-10T22:11:12.916-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sleepless'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><title type='text'>Loneliness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TVTR_1tSM_I/AAAAAAAABLA/YgSxXf6XDm4/s1600/Dropped_Call_by_andrew_gw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 177px; height: 264px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TVTR_1tSM_I/AAAAAAAABLA/YgSxXf6XDm4/s200/Dropped_Call_by_andrew_gw.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572309533643125746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had a friend to call.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not one to hate being alone.  I love my alone time but sometimes (like tonight) I want a friend who I can call without feeling like I'm a bother.  Someone not connected to the boy.  Someone who is willing to put for the effort in a friendship.  Someone who sees friendship as a two way street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to be a friend to make a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I found one but instead I found a broken heart.&lt;br /&gt;I'm almost ready to give up.  This one was my last saving grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'You have to be a friend to make one', I told him when he asked why I had come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I need a friend,' I said when he asked me why I hang out with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think he understood that he was exactly what I needed.  Or maybe he did and he just doesn't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are other people.&lt;br /&gt;But with everyone else, talking feels awkward and forced.  I don't think I know how to cross the bridge from acquaintance to friend anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to grow up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing up is hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-2551507094318821154?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/2551507094318821154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/02/loneliness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2551507094318821154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2551507094318821154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/02/loneliness.html' title='Loneliness'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TVTR_1tSM_I/AAAAAAAABLA/YgSxXf6XDm4/s72-c/Dropped_Call_by_andrew_gw.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-4868676017063831855</id><published>2011-02-07T15:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T16:02:14.430-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GrowingUp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Causing trouble'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fabulousness of Being Female'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>Trouble...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TVCH6SCXd0I/AAAAAAAABK4/XItgC3yMR6M/s1600/jeans%2Band%2Bchucks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 212px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TVCH6SCXd0I/AAAAAAAABK4/XItgC3yMR6M/s200/jeans%2Band%2Bchucks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571102174401230658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promised myself I would write today about this thing that has been on my mind for the last few weeks since I had the house to myself for an hour or so this morning since M started his new job today and the roommates are scattered to the winds...&lt;br /&gt;But alas, here I am thirty minutes before I have to go to work with nothing accomplished except the sink clean, the toilet plugged (don't get me started), and eating a ham and spaghetti sauce sandwich (not as good as it seems at the get go - hey don't judge, I was attempting to be adventurous.)&lt;br /&gt;The main idea was that I was going to grow up.  For no good reason I seem to have my heart set on getting my heart broken.  I have this huge thing for Trouble.  I just need to get over it. I don't think friends are going to work since we are apparently magnets that can't stay away from each other unless the atmosphere of professionalism is between us.  It's trouble.&lt;br /&gt;What can I say?  I know trouble when I see it....&lt;br /&gt;And yet...&lt;br /&gt;I can't seem to keep my heart from lunging for it.&lt;br /&gt;Why do girls always find that one guy who is just absolute trouble?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-4868676017063831855?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/4868676017063831855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/02/trouble.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4868676017063831855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4868676017063831855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/02/trouble.html' title='Trouble...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TVCH6SCXd0I/AAAAAAAABK4/XItgC3yMR6M/s72-c/jeans%2Band%2Bchucks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-7844765408712949202</id><published>2011-02-02T10:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T10:03:17.167-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shame shame</title><content type='html'>Not giving up yet.  Just been trying to get my head around somethings before I write them down.  And been failing miserably.  Instead of actually thinking about them, I really just push them out my mind and make my hands busy.&lt;div&gt;So shame, shame on me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ah well, such is life, right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-7844765408712949202?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/7844765408712949202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/02/shame-shame.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7844765408712949202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7844765408712949202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/02/shame-shame.html' title='Shame shame'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-8479130212212451370</id><published>2011-01-25T10:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-25T11:44:50.542-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sleepless'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stressed'/><title type='text'>Sleepless thoughts</title><content type='html'>I couldn't sleep last night.  My mind just wouldn't shut off.  I keep going back and forth over stuff that really doesn't concern me.  Instead I distracted myself with M.  But now I have to go to work and work an exceptionally long shift on just over four hours of sleep.  Someone save me.&lt;div&gt;I need to get over this hump and get back to being me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-8479130212212451370?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/8479130212212451370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/sleepless-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8479130212212451370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8479130212212451370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/sleepless-thoughts.html' title='Sleepless thoughts'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-4837606776671014229</id><published>2011-01-23T10:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T11:03:20.286-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sleepless'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stressed'/><title type='text'>Wishing it was simpler</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs18/f/2007/225/5/7/Stress_by_millifrosch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 392px; height: 600px;" src="http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs18/f/2007/225/5/7/Stress_by_millifrosch.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many changes...&lt;div&gt;They are all so little but it's just that extra little bit of stress that seems to cave me in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been absolutely drained for the last three or fours days now and no matter when I go to bed I can't seem to catch up on any rest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I start teaching riding lessons this next week.  I'm super happy to be back in a place where I can work with horses again.  The work is so obvious.  So plain.  There's no drama with horses.  They just are.  Horses don't lie.  It makes life simpler.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Simple is welcome right now since I had to go and make life &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/complicated.html"&gt;complicated&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm still trying to get my head on straight about all that.  It's dragging me down pretty hard core at the moment.  I'll try to be less vague in another post... I just can't seem to put what's in my heart or head down on paper yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now I've chosen to be a trainer at work.  It's hard.  I mean, it's not &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; hard but it's uncomfortable for sure.  I have a hard enough time keeping track of myself in restaurant; let alone someone else too - and doing everything (and I mean &lt;i&gt;everything&lt;/i&gt;) up to standards (even the stupid ones).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here I am just wishing it was all simpler.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-4837606776671014229?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/4837606776671014229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/wishing-it-was-simpler.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4837606776671014229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4837606776671014229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/wishing-it-was-simpler.html' title='Wishing it was simpler'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-2244403171504914527</id><published>2011-01-20T22:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T23:14:07.443-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me being an Idiot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Art of Boy Stealing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Infallacies of Love'/><title type='text'>Complicated</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs19/f/2007/289/f/a/fa6730fc656e178c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs19/f/2007/289/f/a/fa6730fc656e178c.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;Sweet Infatuation by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://ahemjez.deviantart.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;ahemjez&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I get a big goofy grin anytime I think about our time together.  He makes me smile and he's not even around.  My breath catches when he touches me.  I can't make my mouth say anything even resembling intelligence.  My heart starts to pound when he watches me for too long.  I can feel it in my ears.  I get a pang of jealousy when I see him flirt with someone else.  I never get jealous.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Worst of all...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's not &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/07/because-it-was-monday.html"&gt;the boy&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life just got terribly complicated.&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/5110027227122884689-2244403171504914527?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/2244403171504914527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/complicated.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2244403171504914527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2244403171504914527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/complicated.html' title='Complicated'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-4140069024876534807</id><published>2011-01-13T09:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T09:18:52.645-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me being an Idiot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><title type='text'>Self censorship</title><content type='html'>I talk to myself on a regular basis.  Things always sound better in my head than they do coming out of my mouth.  Since apparently there is something broken in that connection I have to talk to myself to make sure I don't sound like a complete idiot.&lt;br /&gt;When I leave a conversation, I have to repeat what I've said to myself in sort of an afterthought censorship.  Sometimes I even have entire conversations with someone without them even being there.&lt;br /&gt;It's terrible.&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty crazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-4140069024876534807?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/4140069024876534807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/self-censorship.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4140069024876534807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4140069024876534807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/self-censorship.html' title='Self censorship'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-4122791418903281924</id><published>2011-01-11T09:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T10:16:06.409-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me being an Idiot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Art of Boy Stealing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Causing trouble'/><title type='text'>Stomach, meet butterflies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2011/009/b/d/bddaf0de82963e4bd28e58dc7e305abe-d2x83ve.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2011/009/b/d/bddaf0de82963e4bd28e58dc7e305abe-d2x83ve.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He kissed me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I just got rid of the butterflies after the last time,' I told him.  'Two weeks! Two weeks, it took me!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Really?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Lets go for three weeks this time.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he fucking kissed me again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-4122791418903281924?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/4122791418903281924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/stomach-meet-butterflies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4122791418903281924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4122791418903281924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/stomach-meet-butterflies.html' title='Stomach, meet butterflies'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-304251831759879855</id><published>2011-01-10T09:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T09:27:13.329-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me being an Idiot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><title type='text'>Setbacks to writing</title><content type='html'>I'm definitely sensing a small problem with my blogging more.  Firstly, I'm freaking cold.  I could write in the living room where its warmer but then I always feel like someone's looking over my shoulder.  So alas, I'm suffering with frozen fingers and draped with layers of clothes.  Maybe I should try gloves...&lt;br /&gt;Another is my life isn't all that interesting currently.  Just a lot of work mostly.&lt;br /&gt;A peer into my day would show&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Time with my dog.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Time with the TV/computer.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Time at work.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Occasional drama with M.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Though the drama is my own doing.  My craziness that makes me female.  I hate it.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could go back to being a good kid with a good head on my shoulders.  Life was simpler.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... I still have a story or two up my sleeve.  I just have to get them out of my head and arranged satisfactorily on paper.  I think that writing even simple stuff like this will help get me get back in the groove.&lt;br /&gt;It's not like when I was in school and was writing something every day for class.  Because I'm not being made to write, I've kind of gotten out of the habit.  And so I'm attempting to remedy that.&lt;br /&gt;And here I am...&lt;br /&gt;...rambling. lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-304251831759879855?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/304251831759879855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/setbacks-to-writing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/304251831759879855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/304251831759879855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/setbacks-to-writing.html' title='Setbacks to writing'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-591656865581242449</id><published>2011-01-09T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T10:24:45.317-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><title type='text'>Dreams are funny</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th08.deviantart.net/fs31/PRE/i/2008/208/1/6/Dreams_Are_Dreams_by_olushia_loosiczka.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 510px; height: 657px;" src="http://th08.deviantart.net/fs31/PRE/i/2008/208/1/6/Dreams_Are_Dreams_by_olushia_loosiczka.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Dreams are Dreams by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" color: rgb(65, 77, 76); font-weight: bold; line-height: 17px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://olushia-loosiczka.deviantart.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://olushia-loosiczka.deviantart.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;olushia-loosiczka&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I've been having so delightfully intriguing dreams the last couple days.  They are strange but not unsettling.  Not the kind where when you wake up you are off your game for the rest of the day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Instead, the kind that almost uplifts you and makes you smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;This morning's dream was so vivid and long.  My parents backyard was massive suddenly and they had various empty flower box things everywhere.  My best friend and I decided to do a little bit of gardening so we went outside discovering.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A few were full with various vegetables that were a bit scraggly. And one particular had what I thought were those live forever plants that my mom's side of the family adores.  But they turned out to be hermit crab type animals with plants as tops instead of shells that grabbed your finger and scared the living daylights out of me.  We moved those into a different box and planted wildflowers where they were.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Nothing really grew in the dream yet but we had high hopes for a beautiful garden after some rain and time.  We discovered an old hand pump that had more of a foot lever in a shallow pit next to our garden.  I fell through the thin plywood cover on the lever and started flooding the shallow pit that my best friend was standing in.  With a tiny bit of panic during and giggles after, she jumped out somewhat more damp after.  We covered the pressure lever back up so we wouldn't unintentionally trigger a flood somewhere in the yard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;After finishing our part in the new garden we discovered an underground house.  It was huge and newly finished.  Inside there was a bunch of game rooms, with a bowling ally and basketball court amongst the others.  It super cool.  My parents came down to play with us  and enjoy the new hideout.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't remember everything else that happened.  The last scene in the dream ended with me looking at the garden with fondness, even the hermit crab buggers, and hoping for progress and lots of color.  I knew some of the seeds wouldn't take root because in some of the boxes we hadn't removed the gravel that laid above the soft dirt, just mixed the seeds in.  But those that were strong enough would put root down anyway.  I knew this and felt peace anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I woke up to my dog jingling her collar feeling peaceful and rested and happy to greet the day.  I almost hope I actually had that garden.&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/5110027227122884689-591656865581242449?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/591656865581242449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/dreams-are-funny.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/591656865581242449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/591656865581242449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/dreams-are-funny.html' title='Dreams are funny'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-7753380221865395518</id><published>2011-01-07T09:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T09:59:54.769-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><title type='text'>Sometimes life does funny things</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/028/6/9/new_life_by_meppol.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/028/6/9/new_life_by_meppol.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://browse.deviantart.com/photography/?qh=&amp;amp;section=&amp;amp;q=life#/d2iiyc3"&gt;New Life&lt;/a&gt; by *meppol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Like throwing a wrench at your head.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I miss writing.  I haven't done it in so long.  It's hard to write while living with someone.  Especially when you want to write about said person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm going to try to get back into the habit again this year.  It's a tentative resolution because I'm terrible at resolutions.  So I feel if I make it tentative, it will work out better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Other resolutions I want to try to keep:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pay down a significant part of my credit debt.  I don't have &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; much but enough that it's going to take me a little while.  That root canal and losing my job two years ago really did me in (that was three grand by itself). This is definitely where my tax refund is going to go this year as well as every little scrap of extra cash that comes my way.  I think I'm going to set a tentative goal at paying off three grand by the end of the year.  It seems reasonable.  Especially if I get this new riding instruction job that I'm drooling over. (Shh... don't want to jinx it.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Get myself and the boy in better shape.  Mostly the boy.  I'm not the kind of person that manipulates my boy because I'm vain or selfish but then I kind of am.  I'm really just tired of him &lt;i&gt;talking&lt;/i&gt; about wanting to lose weight and then never doing anything about it.  So about a month ago, I did it.  I pulled out all the stops, waterworks and tantrums, every trick in the book.  Not proud of it but it worked.  When he gets a job we're doing P90.  I have to do it too.  And cook all the food. Gah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to try to be a better employee.  I'm really pretty terrible.  I mean I'm a super hard worker.  It's just that my attitude starts off all roses and butterflies and then goes to dumpster diving and grunge after a while.  I just get to where I sit on top of my high horse and know what I am doing.  A little hard to describe.  At best, I would call it a sort of perfectionist's complacency.  Anyway, I'm going to try not to talk back so much at work and keep my nose to the grindstone and let the little things slide off my back instead of taking everything to heart and getting pissy about it.  This is going to be so much easier since the one manager I was the worst with was fired over my vacation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A friend of mine has started a &lt;a href="http://acnewardiary.blogspot.com/"&gt;daily blog&lt;/a&gt; of the war on her acne.  I love the idea and I wish her the best.  I'm trying to decide if I could do the same thing with one of my goals this year.  We'll have to see.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmmm... the puppy is whining.  I need to take her somewhere and finish my to do list for the day before I go to work at four.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Remind me to tell you about my newest drama later with the three kisses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-7753380221865395518?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/7753380221865395518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/sometimes-life-does-funny-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7753380221865395518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7753380221865395518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2011/01/sometimes-life-does-funny-things.html' title='Sometimes life does funny things'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-9066661898932947502</id><published>2010-09-05T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-05T13:56:57.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lesson Learned</title><content type='html'>I think the thing that hit me the hardest when I actually got to camp that first couple of days was how much I actually missed the boy.&lt;br /&gt;I don't get homesick.  For anyone.  Well, except for the pup.&lt;br /&gt;And apparently the boy.&lt;br /&gt;It took some adjustment that he wasn't just a phone call away and that I wasn't going to see him when work was done for the day.  He wasn't there to describe the new experiences I was having, the new people I was dealing with...&lt;br /&gt;I was a little shocked at myself how much I depended on having him near me all the time.  And how much I had taken that for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The big joke all summer was, of course, that I missed the pup more than I missed him.  It wasn't true at all.  I missed the boy desperately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;Camp is for learning about yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Lesson learned I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-9066661898932947502?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/9066661898932947502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2010/09/lesson-learned.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/9066661898932947502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/9066661898932947502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2010/09/lesson-learned.html' title='Lesson Learned'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6092955151412902845</id><published>2010-09-04T02:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T02:30:31.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn Dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TIIQw31sUnI/AAAAAAAABKY/gz1LyiqECMM/s1600/20100613_6.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TIIQw31sUnI/AAAAAAAABKY/gz1LyiqECMM/s320/20100613_6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512987325663826546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just for the record, having your dog pee on your bed is really annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially because you never find until until you are really ready to go to bed and then you can't.&lt;br /&gt;Instead of fondling your pillow, you have to strip your bed of its sheets, try your darndest to get the wet and smell out of the mattress topper, wash and dry the sheets and blankets, then remake the bed again.  It's a whole issue.&lt;br /&gt;And you can't really get mad at her, well, you can but she looks just so darn sorry after the fact when she knows she's in trouble that you don't have the heart to do anything worse but send her to her own bed after being outside for twenty minutes.&lt;br /&gt;But then again, currently because of this issue I am up at 2:30 am writing in my blog that I have barely touched all year long.  So some good can come out of having your bed pissed on after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, for the record, despite her messing my sleep schedule up by pissing on my bed, the damn  dog is absolutely adorable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-6092955151412902845?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6092955151412902845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2010/09/damn-dog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6092955151412902845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6092955151412902845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2010/09/damn-dog.html' title='Damn Dog'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TIIQw31sUnI/AAAAAAAABKY/gz1LyiqECMM/s72-c/20100613_6.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6063243160885750186</id><published>2010-09-04T01:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T01:36:11.944-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I spent my summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TIICM1Ov93I/AAAAAAAABJo/vHKIWbMGW00/s1600/Daviantart_Peaceful_Spring_by_PhilipMatthews.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TIICM1Ov93I/AAAAAAAABJo/vHKIWbMGW00/s320/Daviantart_Peaceful_Spring_by_PhilipMatthews.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512971313325537138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't know how long its going to last but I'm trying for a more positive outlook in this blog.  Life has been pretty eventful and boring at the same time however that works.  So I'm going to try to turn a new leaf.&lt;br /&gt;Let's see where this new path leads us.&lt;br /&gt;Change can be good.&lt;br /&gt;I worked at a summer camp this summer out here in northern California.&lt;br /&gt;It was beautiful. &lt;br /&gt;I giggled and squealed more than I care to admit.&lt;br /&gt;It was hard.&lt;br /&gt;I cried more than I care to admit.&lt;br /&gt;It was thrilling. &lt;br /&gt;I didn't sing nearly enough.&lt;br /&gt;It was terrifying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I kinda want to do it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully more entertaining stories to come.&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/5110027227122884689-6063243160885750186?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6063243160885750186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2010/09/how-i-spent-my-summer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6063243160885750186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6063243160885750186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2010/09/how-i-spent-my-summer.html' title='How I spent my summer'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/TIICM1Ov93I/AAAAAAAABJo/vHKIWbMGW00/s72-c/Daviantart_Peaceful_Spring_by_PhilipMatthews.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-7824661261143912017</id><published>2010-03-21T00:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T01:35:11.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories:  King of the Dock</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/S6XWqIPsJ_I/AAAAAAAABGw/o238GPmF-c8/s1600-h/Swimming+hole.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/S6XWqIPsJ_I/AAAAAAAABGw/o238GPmF-c8/s320/Swimming+hole.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450998943257995250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite families to stay at the ranch was a large family that had been coming every summer since basically the place opened.  They came in and took over the ranch.  They knew what they liked and they got their way every time.  They had so many traditions that they would carry out every summer.  King of the dock was one of my favorites.  I was invited to join the fun of that one though I came too late.&lt;br /&gt;The swimming hole was just over the hill. By mid summer it wasn't as swollen from the rains as earlier in the spring.  The sun warmed up the water my midday though if you went to deep the water would still give you goosebumps.  The lake was surrounded by a split rail fence to keep the horses out.  There were a handful of trees inside the enclosure, a scattering of benches and tree swings, and a million cattails that threatened to take over the swimmable portion of the lake.  A wooden dock spread from the shore over part of the lake.  It was sheltered by a grape vine.  Of course, it was in the middle of wine country California.&lt;br /&gt;In the middle of the lake was a blue floating dock tethered to a concrete block anchored in the inky depths.  It was a favorite for the geese and ducks to land upon and do their business.  It was also the arena for the most epic battle of the summer.&lt;br /&gt;The entire family would swim out and stand on the dock all vying to stand without knocking themselves or anyone else into the drink accidentally before the game began.  A few false starts and the unfortunate would climb back up and find a new spot from which to take his stand. From this precarious position they would embark upon the largest game of king of the hill (or dock in this case) I had ever seen. &lt;br /&gt;Almost twenty people ranging in ages from mid forties to seven stood on the dock together before the whistle rang out.  With that, people were flying over the edges of the dock into the water every which way.  Aunts were shoving their husbands, sisters and brothers were body slamming each other into the water.  A few of the younger kids just sat and grabbed at feet in effort to make their target lose their balance and topple in to the water.  A slim few climbed the way back into the fray to try again to claim the title of king but in the end it was down to two boys. &lt;br /&gt;Two cousins.  A twenty something guy and a ten year old boy.  Those who had given in to labored breathing and shaking muscles were floating the the water surrounding the floating wrestling match.  All eyes were on the dock and the lone pair struggling to keep their footing.  There were more false starts and several grabs and misses.  It was almost over and a running tackle missed its mark and the boy dove to the right in effort to save himself from his own momentum.  But one deft duck from him as the older tried to take him out and it was over, the ten year old had won.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-7824661261143912017?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/7824661261143912017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2010/03/memories-king-of-dock.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7824661261143912017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7824661261143912017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2010/03/memories-king-of-dock.html' title='Memories:  King of the Dock'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/S6XWqIPsJ_I/AAAAAAAABGw/o238GPmF-c8/s72-c/Swimming+hole.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5496653406333164101</id><published>2010-03-01T10:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T10:46:46.041-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><title type='text'>What qualifies as depression?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="zemanta-img" style="margin: 1em; float: left; display: block; width: 250px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11423417@N03/2505409908"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3091/2505409908_559871e344_m.jpg" alt="Clinical Depression" style="border: medium none ; display: block;" width="240" height="160" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11423417@N03/2505409908"&gt;Yuliya Libkina&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Do you have to think about killing yourself to be depressed?  I've looked at a lot of self questionnaires in the last few months since I really haven't been feeling myself.  I don't think about death.  Or if I do it's rare and even then it's about what people would think about me when I died.  Nothing in there about killing myself.&lt;br /&gt;I cry more than I used to.  I lack the drive to get anything done. My appetite changes on a daily basis... but then it always has.  I'm cursed(blessed with a fast metabolism. It happens.&lt;br /&gt;Just look at this blog.  I've neglected it for months at a time this time.  Not because I have been busy as I may have professed but because I felt I had nothing to write about.  Nothing has pierced this fog I feel like I've been in.&lt;br /&gt;You may say 'See a doctor'.  But I'm broke with no health insurance. So that isn't going to happen anytime soon.  I'm trying to get my back fixed first... and my teeth.  And pay off the credit card from my root canal from almost a year ago when I got fired.&lt;br /&gt;A friend suggested SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) because when winter goes away I seem to be better.  That probably is the case, actually.  I'll find out this summer, I guess.  Hopefully everything will be back to normal. &lt;br /&gt;The boy hates to see me sad.&lt;br /&gt;I hate to see me sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="margin-top: 10px; height: 15px;" class="zemanta-pixie"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/94e380cd-e532-4f3c-800c-ca3dec30d028/" title="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"&gt;&lt;img style="border: medium none ; float: right;" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=94e380cd-e532-4f3c-800c-ca3dec30d028" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"&gt;&lt;/script&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/5110027227122884689-5496653406333164101?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5496653406333164101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-qualifies-as-depression.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5496653406333164101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5496653406333164101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-qualifies-as-depression.html' title='What qualifies as depression?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3091/2505409908_559871e344_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-8613257036150412213</id><published>2009-12-05T22:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T22:37:48.061-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I haven't been feeling much in the Christmas spirit this year.&lt;br /&gt;Been too busy I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;Or just too wrapped up in my own self.&lt;br /&gt;But today, I decided I wanted to decorate the house.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I live with four boys.  Four nerd boys.&lt;br /&gt;OCD and man-periods abound.  (seriously, and I thought girl scout camp was bad?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I didn't get a tree.&lt;br /&gt;One didn't want the mess.&lt;br /&gt;One vetoed because of possible insects in the tree.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah... sometimes they are more female than I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead I decided to get creative.  This is my Christmas.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SxtQxqLQoFI/AAAAAAAABEU/K8bxXt6h9zM/s1600-h/20091205_3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SxtQxqLQoFI/AAAAAAAABEU/K8bxXt6h9zM/s320/20091205_3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412008191281111122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup.  I strung lights and ribbon and bulbs on the bulletin board. :)&lt;br /&gt;Very festive I think.&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/5110027227122884689-8613257036150412213?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/8613257036150412213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-christmas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8613257036150412213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8613257036150412213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-christmas.html' title='My Christmas'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SxtQxqLQoFI/AAAAAAAABEU/K8bxXt6h9zM/s72-c/20091205_3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-1847033013606650411</id><published>2009-10-12T22:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T22:16:57.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Birthday Bucket List</title><content type='html'>  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;go back to Whiskey Wild&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Because there are always good times to be had at that Bar.  Dancing and drinking, flirting with the boy all gives a confidence boost guaranteed.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;get a massage from the boy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Because I never get a proper one that leads to.. well, you know...  and I want to.  And what else should you do in your birthday suit?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;see all my friends from home&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I miss them  and they know just exactly what to do to make me laugh.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Go to a country concert&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  duh.  I love country.  duh.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ride a horse&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  because I never get to anymore.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:17485"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/17485"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=17485" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-1847033013606650411?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/1847033013606650411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/10/birthday-bucket-list.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1847033013606650411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1847033013606650411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/10/birthday-bucket-list.html' title='The Birthday Bucket List'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5597423692696022398</id><published>2009-10-12T22:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T22:07:38.792-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just what I needed... from a tree.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;My favorite book as a child was The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein.  I still love the concept.  If I had a magic tree in my back yard I would want it to not giving me anything I wanted but just exactly what I needed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;  This tree just hands out the just the thing I need at the exact time I need it.  Think of the sorting hat at the end Harry Potter Order of the Pheonix.  Maybe I should call it just-in-the-nick-of-time tree.  I could ask for money which is the most popular answer by far.  But money only gets you so far.  My tree can dole out answers to my fears just by the pure driving need.  Getting what you want every time isn&amp;#39;t always best but if you can get what you need you&amp;#39;ll always be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I could use a little tree insight for my life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:17484"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/17484"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=17484" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5597423692696022398?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5597423692696022398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/10/just-what-i-needed-from-tree.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5597423692696022398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5597423692696022398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/10/just-what-i-needed-from-tree.html' title='Just what I needed... from a tree.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6283745329012740822</id><published>2009-10-12T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T21:49:25.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stonecold Confession.</title><content type='html'>Last night I was innocently playing WoW to my little nerd heart's content when one of my housemates said good night.  I turned to get up and say goodnight and much to my surprise and embarrassment to see he had quite the hard-on going on that was peaking through his boxers.  He was stoned and probably had no idea.  But I slyly turned my head to hide my blush and said goodnight and slumped back into my chair and back to my computer.  He stumbled off to bed.  I promptly left the area to scrub my eyes with bleach.&lt;br /&gt;Yipes...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-6283745329012740822?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6283745329012740822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/10/stonecold-confession.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6283745329012740822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6283745329012740822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/10/stonecold-confession.html' title='Stonecold Confession.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-978854314068748521</id><published>2009-08-03T23:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T00:02:37.969-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Images.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As you may have noticed, the few of you that may frequent here, I have been playing around with the look of my blog.  I'm still not really a fan of the title and the photo looks cool but doesn't really pander to the image I want to create.  Heck, I don't even really know what the image is I'm trying to present.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be kick ass and it still be me (because as much as I connect with those kick ass heroines of my books, I'm really not that kick ass.  I'm really just a wuss with a big mouth.)  I have yet to find something that suits my purpose.  Something a little sexy yet not porn.&lt;br /&gt;So yeah... if you have any ideas toss them out.  Also, if you've just stopped in, read further in.  I'm pretty sure you'll find something more interesting that this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also... Why suddenly in all things related to internet is 'doesn't' not a word?  Has anyone else noticed that little red line just randomly appearing under the word mocking you like your second grade teacher? &lt;br /&gt;No? &lt;br /&gt;Maybe that last part's just me.&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/5110027227122884689-978854314068748521?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/978854314068748521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/08/images.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/978854314068748521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/978854314068748521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/08/images.html' title='Images.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-9013057989164423930</id><published>2009-08-03T23:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T23:24:56.842-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And a voice like honey...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://backend.deviantart.com/embed/view.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="id=85893453&amp;amp;width=1337" com="" deviation="" 85893453="" width="225" height="305"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I answered the phone this morning at work and I almost swooned at the soft voice laced with honey that answered back.  One of my coworkers just calling in to check the schedule.  But bla&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;DOW&lt;/span&gt;, did his voice make me weak in the knees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a good thing no one actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;knows&lt;/span&gt; I'm that easy.&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/5110027227122884689-9013057989164423930?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/9013057989164423930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/08/and-voice-like-honey.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/9013057989164423930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/9013057989164423930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/08/and-voice-like-honey.html' title='And a voice like honey...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-2374203462553294403</id><published>2009-07-26T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T23:38:01.181-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's a girl got to do to get some action?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th09.deviantart.net/fs49/300W/f/2009/178/6/6/Seduction_by_CroEva.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 372px;" src="http://th09.deviantart.net/fs49/300W/f/2009/178/6/6/Seduction_by_CroEva.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It wasn't what I had hoped.&lt;br /&gt;It was a back rub.&lt;br /&gt;Just a back rub.&lt;br /&gt;But nothing I had been craving.&lt;br /&gt;He had been putting it off so long I had thought there would be more to it.&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's what they mean when they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.&lt;br /&gt;Fantasies and dreams take flight while waiting anxiously for the prize to come.&lt;br /&gt;It was nice.  I guess beggars can't be choosers.&lt;br /&gt;But I had hoped it would lead to something a little more.&lt;br /&gt;I mean, come on, isn't that what guys are supposed to think back rubs are for?&lt;br /&gt;But no, of course not.  Not this time, not the next time either probably.&lt;br /&gt;What's a girl got to do to be seduced?&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/5110027227122884689-2374203462553294403?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/2374203462553294403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/07/whats-girl-got-to-do-to-get-some-action.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2374203462553294403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2374203462553294403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/07/whats-girl-got-to-do-to-get-some-action.html' title='What&apos;s a girl got to do to get some action?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6831895510621109946</id><published>2009-07-20T00:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T00:26:21.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tomorrow.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="zemanta-img" style="margin: 1em; float: right; display: block; width: 250px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/56387066@N00/2072512680"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2382/2072512680_063fb07613_m.jpg" alt="Day 107 - Sex Sells" style="border: medium none ; display: block;" width="240" height="235" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/56387066@N00/2072512680"&gt;margolove&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I've been thinking, dreaming, craving it for weeks now.&lt;br /&gt;He promised me a massage.&lt;br /&gt;His hands kneading the muscles loose from the cramped little knots that have been building for months.  Fingers carassing my skin sending goosebumps out to my fingertips. His lips following, kissing up my neck to my hairline making me shiver.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="margin-top: 10px; height: 15px;" class="zemanta-pixie"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/95cc76dd-c46c-4806-bf6b-3fbc3ed061b0/" title="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"&gt;&lt;img style="border: medium none ; float: right;" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=95cc76dd-c46c-4806-bf6b-3fbc3ed061b0" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"&gt;&lt;/script&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/5110027227122884689-6831895510621109946?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6831895510621109946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/07/tomorrow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6831895510621109946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6831895510621109946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/07/tomorrow.html' title='Tomorrow.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2382/2072512680_063fb07613_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-7272307410310186316</id><published>2009-07-20T00:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T00:13:15.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Because it was Monday.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="zemanta-img" style="margin: 1em; float: right; display: block; width: 250px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28396605@N00/863873223"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1355/863873223_3b51aa303b_m.jpg" alt="red roses" style="border: medium none ; display: block;" width="240" height="198" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28396605@N00/863873223"&gt;paparutzi&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;He bought me flowers.&lt;br /&gt;For absolutely no reason.&lt;br /&gt;Because it was Monday, he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silly boy.&lt;br /&gt;He bought me roses.&lt;br /&gt;Twelves blood red roses and babies breath tucked away in its plastic wrapper.&lt;br /&gt;He had been stuck at work and I had felt bad that he was going to be so tired when he did get home.  And he stopped on the way home to get me flowers.&lt;br /&gt;Sweet boy.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="margin-top: 10px; height: 15px;" class="zemanta-pixie"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/a05be601-7e8a-4a1d-8047-9f75ea57271c/" title="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"&gt;&lt;img style="border: medium none ; float: right;" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=a05be601-7e8a-4a1d-8047-9f75ea57271c" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"&gt;&lt;/script&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/5110027227122884689-7272307410310186316?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/7272307410310186316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/07/because-it-was-monday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7272307410310186316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7272307410310186316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/07/because-it-was-monday.html' title='Because it was Monday.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1355/863873223_3b51aa303b_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-8534723352218146945</id><published>2009-07-01T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T00:16:02.118-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><title type='text'>broken...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs36/f/2008/272/6/a/Dreams_by_LonelyPierot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 442px; height: 306px;" src="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs36/f/2008/272/6/a/Dreams_by_LonelyPierot.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If I was honest with myself about how I felt about that &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/lifes-bitch.html"&gt;place&lt;/a&gt;.  I had fallen in love with the people and the land again.  I felt a place where I could always belong again.  I thought maybe, just maybe, I had found my &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/04/terabithia.html"&gt;Terabithia&lt;/a&gt; again.  At least a close second.&lt;br /&gt;And then that place turned its back on me.  Threw me out to the wolves and broke my heart, shattered my confidence, and maybe even my dreams.  It hurts to think about it now.  I can't even look at pictures without feeling the ache in my chest where I thought I had found that feeling again.&lt;br /&gt;I don't like it but I needed that place.  I thought it could be a constant.  That maybe, just maybe, I could settle there for a while.  More than just a summer at a time.  No more dreaming of the next time.  I could be respected and treasured for who I was.  I could be trusted to get the work done and be content.&lt;br /&gt;Now all that has soured into feeling of grief, sorrow, and anger just wallowing in the base of my being.  I'm afraid to try that hard again.  I'm afraid to be rejected that hard right when I thought things were just turning around.&lt;br /&gt;My dreams crushed for a second time.  Why do I give people this power over me?  Why do I lie myself on the block for them, torture myself for them?  It's just a job.  Isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know that my dreams will ever be a job for me.  It's just too bad that the job won't let me have my dreams anymore.&lt;br /&gt;That place wrung me dry.&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/5110027227122884689-8534723352218146945?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/8534723352218146945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/07/broken.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8534723352218146945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8534723352218146945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/07/broken.html' title='broken...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-3568144462117019233</id><published>2009-05-27T00:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T00:31:24.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Being the hero</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00793/SUPER_woman_793933a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 356px; height: 265px;" src="http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00793/SUPER_woman_793933a.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know... I haven't written in ages.  forgive me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to a coworker about books.  I always get a little weird about the kind of books I read.  I read fantasy.  But there are tons of people that judge me just because of the book I read so I usually don't say much.  I just shrug with tiny smile and gloss over the book with a generalistic name (witch book, werewolf book, whatever).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as always, I always think of more to say after the conversation is over...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love books with female heroines.&lt;br /&gt;(I guess that's kind of a double negative-ish thingy since a heroine is already always female... (kind of like square is always a rectangle but a rectangle isn't always a square) )&lt;br /&gt;...protagonist, then.&lt;br /&gt;(ooo now I feel all smart and stuff pulling out a big five dollar word. anywho...)&lt;br /&gt;It such an ego boost for me.  Especially lately with my confidence so bruised in reality.  I like the escape when I get to be the one saving the day no matter how awkwardly. (actually the more awkward the better, makes it seem believable that I could actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be &lt;/span&gt;the character).  No one's perfect, heroines shouldn't be either.  That's why all the great heros always had a fatal flaw (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;HELLO&lt;/span&gt;... acheilles heel, anyone?) .  It makes for good drama.&lt;br /&gt;And everyone knows a story without drama is... well... not a story.  It's boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's just something completely empowering in seriously kicking someone's ass and being able to strap on a set of sexy four inch heels all in one day and making the guy's mouth water just a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like being the superhero instead of the damsel in distress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-3568144462117019233?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/3568144462117019233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/being-hero.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3568144462117019233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3568144462117019233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/being-hero.html' title='Being the hero'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-1746599125418997335</id><published>2009-05-08T18:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T18:31:33.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Go for broke: Ramen</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;With my &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/lifes-bitch.html"&gt;involuntary career change&lt;/a&gt; I'm going to have to make some cut backs.  Things really haven't changed much from college.  I'm still broke.  Only this time, I have bills.  Truck payment, school loans, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while there are something I don't plan to ever scrimp on, like toilet paper or ice cream (priorities people!), somethings can't be helped.  Like food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily there are some super cheap meals in boxes (or bags, in my case, out there) like Ramen.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;img style="border: 0pt none ; width: 342px; height: 257px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3259/2550875776_9c45e6ce54.jpg" /&gt;    &lt;small style="display: block;"&gt;        &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/55231259@N00/2550875776"&gt;No Cash? No Problem. Caution!&lt;/a&gt;    &lt;/small&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;  Yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chicken Ramen is the way to go.  It's tasty and cheap.  I've seen it as low as 2 cents (that's right, don't adjust your television sets, I said two pennies!)  a package at walmart.  (Ok, so that may have been five years ago, but still... times haven't changed THAT much.) and I know people who have lived nearly exclusively on it (with a bottle of vitamins).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you get tired of chicken, there's always pork or beef too!  I think they even have varieties with freeze dried veggies in them now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when I have cash to spare, I think I'll still eat ramen.  It's that good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mac and cheese is pretty good too.  Especially with tuna and peas all mixed up. But at nearly a dollar a box now it's hard to beat the top ramen noodle.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 10px 0pt 0pt; padding: 0pt; clear: both; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px; text-align: center;" class="plinky_badge_rid:12265"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/12265"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=12265" style="border: 0pt none ; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-1746599125418997335?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/1746599125418997335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/go-for-broke-ramen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1746599125418997335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1746599125418997335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/go-for-broke-ramen.html' title='Go for broke: Ramen'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3259/2550875776_9c45e6ce54_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-2114265699476699454</id><published>2009-05-02T23:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T23:14:47.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just looking back.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://katrinastranger.deviantart.com/art/Just-looking-Back-33659341"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://th00.deviantart.com/fs9/300W/i/2006/142/1/7/Just_looking_Back_by_KatrinaStranger.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love going through and reading old blog entries.  Especially since I feel my writing used to actually be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good &lt;/span&gt;back then&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; Sometimes I wonder if I've lost my touch.  Or maybe I'm just lacking some inspiration.  But regardless...&lt;br /&gt;Some fun moments from the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2006/12/fabulous.html"&gt;Being &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fabulous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to be pretty good at &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2006/10/art-of-guy-stealing.html"&gt;Stealing the boys&lt;/a&gt; too.  Haven't been accused of that lately.  But that may be because I was in the bumfuck of nowhere with no boys to 'steal'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I just need to remember how to pull myself back out of this dark dank hole I've found myself in &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2006/10/up-by-my-bootstraps.html"&gt;by my bootstraps&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-2114265699476699454?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/2114265699476699454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/just-looking-back.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2114265699476699454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2114265699476699454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/just-looking-back.html' title='Just looking back.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-3779610732922744326</id><published>2009-05-02T22:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T22:55:51.449-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><title type='text'>My confidence might actually return from its grave</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I passed the test with flying colors and received rave reviews from just about every manager I've worked with already.  My confidence is slowly climbing out of the thirty foot hole it buried itself in after being beaten down and fired.  I even got a high five from Mr. &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/easy-smile.html"&gt;Easy Smile&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Gah.  I suck at monikers.  Maybe I'll just stick with letters.  Like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll just leave the cool anonymous monikers to the likes of &lt;a href="http://theovereducatednympho.com/"&gt;Vix  &lt;/a&gt;at OEN.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;At least, I'm apparently rocking at certification tests.&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/5110027227122884689-3779610732922744326?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/3779610732922744326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-confidence-might-actually-return.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3779610732922744326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3779610732922744326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-confidence-might-actually-return.html' title='My confidence might actually return from its grave'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-1059096348932913833</id><published>2009-05-01T01:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T01:38:51.128-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><title type='text'>Easy Smile</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs45/i/2009/076/3/b/smile_man__by_cytozyna.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 349px; height: 314px;" src="http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs45/i/2009/076/3/b/smile_man__by_cytozyna.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a boy.  He reminds a lot of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I say that like I know him.  It could be that he reminds me of him because he's built about the same and his smile seems to shine easier than most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;He stopped as I was taking the quiz carefully looking out over the dining room.&lt;br /&gt;'Need any help with those questions?'&lt;br /&gt;He sent me a sly smile as he readjusted his tab book.&lt;br /&gt;I had reviewed pretty hard core before I had even started on the clock, even getting a chance to look at the answer key so I was fine.&lt;br /&gt;'No, I think I've got it.  but thanks... but I come around tomorrow then I could use your help.'&lt;br /&gt;He looked at me then, his smile growing larger.&lt;br /&gt;'Final certification, tomorrow?'&lt;br /&gt;'Yup'&lt;br /&gt;'Aw, it's not too hard, you'll do fine.' Smiling again, he wished me luck and went on his way to the kitchen.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to smile.  He was too sweet.&lt;br /&gt;Something about him seems to stick with me.  Maybe its the resemblance to&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; M&lt;/span&gt; but I learned his name first, even before my trainer's name who I met first.  Maybe it's just that I love the romance behind almost strangers... remember &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2006/09/beautiful-stanger.html"&gt;this?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-1059096348932913833?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/1059096348932913833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/easy-smile.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1059096348932913833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1059096348932913833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/easy-smile.html' title='Easy Smile'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-621850757430785234</id><published>2009-05-01T00:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T01:05:24.136-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sleepless'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><title type='text'>Behind these hazel eyes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://a--4.deviantart.com/art/Behind-hazel-eyes-32170407"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 360px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/Sfqsu4gbAcI/AAAAAAAAA3o/wvxcm9X_m-E/s400/Behind_hazel_eyes__by_A__4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330763030388736450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can't tell him anything.&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell anyone.&lt;br /&gt;I'm broken.&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell him because I can't tell myself.  I don't know what to say.&lt;br /&gt;Something inside me is broken.  I don't know how it happened.  I don't know when it happened.&lt;br /&gt;But the life behind these hazel eyes of mine is dimmed.  The spark is gone.&lt;br /&gt;The smile which used to dance continually over these lips now sleeps the day away.&lt;br /&gt;He knows something is wrong.&lt;br /&gt;I want to tell him.&lt;br /&gt;I want to cry on his shoulder and I don't want to feel bad for doing it.  I want to wrapped in those warm arms until this goes away.&lt;br /&gt;But instead, when he asks my lips fake a smile and say 'nothing is wrong'&lt;br /&gt;'I'm fine'...&lt;br /&gt;'don't worry'&lt;br /&gt;While inside somewhere I'm screaming, crying to please do worry, force me to tell you, drag the words from my chest where they stay knotted.  I'm not as strong as I pretend to be.  Make me feel better.&lt;br /&gt;This burden is too hard for me to bear alone but I don't know how to share it.&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/5110027227122884689-621850757430785234?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/621850757430785234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/behind-these-hazel-eyes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/621850757430785234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/621850757430785234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/05/behind-these-hazel-eyes.html' title='Behind these hazel eyes.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/Sfqsu4gbAcI/AAAAAAAAA3o/wvxcm9X_m-E/s72-c/Behind_hazel_eyes__by_A__4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-1935607216519966066</id><published>2009-04-27T15:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T15:19:35.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is my three...</title><content type='html'>So everyone says bad things happen in threes. Well, thanks to my truck getting broken into sometime last night by busting my passenger side window open and stealing my Ipod and transmitter, I have given fate my three.&lt;br /&gt;First, a toothache from hell which needed a root canal &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt;. (I only put this first because it started first)&lt;br /&gt;Second, I was fired from my job for reasons I'm still unsure I totally understand.&lt;br /&gt;And now this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SfYvXNw0_2I/AAAAAAAAA3Y/hT_N5l7zj-I/s1600-h/20090427_21.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SfYvXNw0_2I/AAAAAAAAA3Y/hT_N5l7zj-I/s400/20090427_21.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329499284917518178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My truck was locked and alarm set (but apparently the alarm didn't go off, or maybe it did but no one heard it). I walked out to my truck 30 minutes before I was supposed to be at work (my first day.. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;first day&lt;/span&gt;, people!!) and saw the shattered glass. I'm not entirely sure what I did next but I'm sure it involved a few epithets of fame before walking back across the complex while dialing the number to my brand new job. It was my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;first day&lt;/span&gt;.  And I had to show up late.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.  They were cool about it though.  Thank goodness.&lt;br /&gt;Called the police who apparently aren't open on Monday's in this city. Since when does the whole flipping station get a day off?!?! I ended up having to fill out a report online. Called the insurance, and filed a claim. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The boy&lt;/span&gt; was so very kind to wake up and drive my truck to the shop 30 minutes away to get it fixed as I went to work. It's fixed, but sadly I won't be getting my ipod or transmitter replaced or at least not until I pay off some of these other incidents of my run of bad luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've paid my dues now, oh mother/father of the universe and dealer of destiny. Can't you leave me alone now?&lt;br /&gt;At least for a little while, so I can finish picking up the pieces.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-1935607216519966066?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/1935607216519966066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/this-is-my-three.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1935607216519966066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1935607216519966066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/this-is-my-three.html' title='This is my three...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SfYvXNw0_2I/AAAAAAAAA3Y/hT_N5l7zj-I/s72-c/20090427_21.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-1154981991139835571</id><published>2009-04-26T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T23:04:27.625-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><title type='text'>Burned...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://alizee103.deviantart.com/art/burned-63737284"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 213px;" src="http://th02.deviantart.com/fs21/300W/f/2007/243/b/4/_burned__by_Alizee103.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...  I have a new job.&lt;br /&gt;and I'm totally unexcited about it.  It's not that I've gotten used to not working in the last two weeks.  I just feel like I got burned so bad this last time. I'm wondering if it's worth the effort to give my all for a job again.&lt;br /&gt;I've always been a bit of a work-a-holic.  I've always &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;loved&lt;/span&gt; my job.  If I stopped loving it, I swore I would quit.  And I did.&lt;br /&gt;But I worked really hard at this one.  Tried to make things better.  And got continually put down and hurt for it.  Any extra initiative I took was displayed as idiocy and I was yelled at and cut down.  So much of me is tied to my job.  My work ethic.  If I'm told I'm not doing a good enough job, I take it that I am not good enough.&lt;br /&gt;I hurt.  This is worse than a bad breakup.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's just safer to not love my job.  I guess I know why people try not to fall in love with anything.  It always hurts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-1154981991139835571?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/1154981991139835571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/burned.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1154981991139835571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1154981991139835571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/burned.html' title='Burned...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5605640296062106400</id><published>2009-04-26T22:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T22:37:17.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post-It's</title><content type='html'>People leave notes to themselves all the time on post-its.  Or at least they used to.  Now they do things like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y1rZqw5bXb4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y1rZqw5bXb4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress...  Over at &lt;a href="http://bensprblog.blogspot.com"&gt;No Ordinary Rollarcoaster&lt;/a&gt;, there was a contest about what reminders you could put up for yourself on a post it.&lt;br /&gt;One that seemed particularly good for me was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;"A job doesn't define you. especially when you no longer have one"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://dailyobsessional.blogspot.com/"&gt;-Golublog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Though, I do have a job now.  (just in time, too)  and even a place to live (with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the boy&lt;/span&gt;).  It still seems like a good thing for me especially to keep in mind since so much of me is tied up to my work ethic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5605640296062106400?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5605640296062106400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/post-its.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5605640296062106400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5605640296062106400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/post-its.html' title='Post-It&apos;s'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-2049954144385312042</id><published>2009-04-17T20:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T20:54:15.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life's a bitch...</title><content type='html'>Sorry I fell off the edge of the world...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was fired from my job.&lt;br /&gt;I'm in recovery mode... Trying to get all my pieces back in order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost my job and I find out I need a root canal &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like now&lt;/span&gt; all in the same two days.&lt;br /&gt;Life's a real &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;BITCH&lt;/span&gt; sometimes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-2049954144385312042?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/2049954144385312042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/lifes-bitch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2049954144385312042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2049954144385312042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/lifes-bitch.html' title='Life&apos;s a bitch...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5241561742427988525</id><published>2009-04-12T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T20:51:52.039-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid toothache</title><content type='html'>Hope everyone is having a great holiday weekend.  I'm very jealous if you had the time off and got to spend it as you choose. &lt;br /&gt;I have a ridiculous toothache that ruined a perfect prime rib dinner for me.  All I could eat without flinching was the mashed potatoes... and those were lumpy (just the way I like them, sans toothache) making even that hard to enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to pop a pretty pink pill and go to bed and hope I don't need to find a dentist in this god-forsaken valley tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5241561742427988525?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5241561742427988525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/stupid-toothache.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5241561742427988525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5241561742427988525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/stupid-toothache.html' title='Stupid toothache'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-2933541019468058026</id><published>2009-04-11T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T18:54:17.735-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lack of inspiration</title><content type='html'>I'm doing a little work on the blog while the internet is still treating me well.  I will write a post worth reading in the near future (hopefully!).  Not that you all don't thoroughly enjoy my rambling on about how stupid work is (gag!).  I don't even like writing about it.  Why do I do it?&lt;br /&gt;It has to come out somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;As it is, feel free to sift through my older posts that are at least decent prose while I hunt up a bottle of wine and a good book:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2006/12/losing-control.html"&gt;Losing Control&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2006/09/beautiful-stanger.html"&gt;Beautiful Stranger&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/04/terabithia.html"&gt;Terabithia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-2933541019468058026?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/2933541019468058026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/lack-of-inspiration.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2933541019468058026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2933541019468058026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/lack-of-inspiration.html' title='Lack of inspiration'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-539873902118454012</id><published>2009-04-11T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T17:12:45.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mutual feeling.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SaSpvm-oPgI/AAAAAAAAAs8/nnIpY8HtHAY/s640/20090222_3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 369px; height: 276px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SaSpvm-oPgI/AAAAAAAAAs8/nnIpY8HtHAY/s640/20090222_3.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want to leave the boy yesterday and drive the three hours back to the ranch.  I didn't want to go to work this morning.&lt;br /&gt;Apparently work felt the same way.  Nothing bad happened.  It's just I wasn't useful, I was given busy work then dismissed.  Out of sight, out of mind, I think.&lt;br /&gt;Does wonders for my confidence, let me tell you. *rolls eyes*&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.   It's over now.  Now I can go back to bed and try again tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-539873902118454012?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/539873902118454012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/mutual-feeling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/539873902118454012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/539873902118454012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/mutual-feeling.html' title='Mutual feeling.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh3.ggpht.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SaSpvm-oPgI/AAAAAAAAAs8/nnIpY8HtHAY/s72-c/20090222_3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-3215719765562585478</id><published>2009-04-02T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T22:19:37.282-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><title type='text'>Trading bridges for those million parachutes</title><content type='html'>I had big plans for my day off today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I saw something shiny and my productive day went downhill from there.&lt;br /&gt;But at least, it was a good day off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I've mentioned, I've been feeling very homesick.  Things haven't been going as smoothly as I would like at work.  I seem to always be doing something wrong and getting in trouble, being made to cry.  But you all have heard me vent enough, here, lately so I won't continue now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, a song came on my ipod while I was driving to town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A Million Parchutes&lt;/span&gt; by Sixpence None the Richer.  She seems to be in the very place I want very much to be in.  And I seem to be exactly where she wants to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FO4bvce6am4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FO4bvce6am4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Like a million parachutes&lt;br /&gt;The snow's coming down&lt;br /&gt;I'll lock up the front door&lt;br /&gt;And turn the lights down&lt;br /&gt;In the glow of the street lights&lt;br /&gt;I see them descend&lt;br /&gt;Like a million parachutes&lt;br /&gt;Small men on a mission&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]&lt;br /&gt;I miss the warmth&lt;br /&gt;And I miss the sun&lt;br /&gt;I miss the ocean&lt;br /&gt;I miss everyone&lt;br /&gt;And I miss the bridges&lt;br /&gt;That span across the bay&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, it seems like ages ago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a million parachutes&lt;br /&gt;the snow still falls&lt;br /&gt;The dogs are asleep now&lt;br /&gt;There's no one to call&lt;br /&gt;I'll put on some records&lt;br /&gt;And wait for the light&lt;br /&gt;Under those million parachutes&lt;br /&gt;Now a blanket of white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I wonder if when I go back home, I will miss this place. &lt;br /&gt;Will I miss the warmth?&lt;br /&gt;Will I miss the sun?&lt;br /&gt;Will I miss everyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is beautiful where I am.  The sun is shining, the weather's warm.&lt;br /&gt;The ocean is so close and the sight leaves me speechless and peaceful with each visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I miss everyone.  I miss having friends to fall back on.  I miss having a shoulder to cry on.&lt;br /&gt;It does seem like ages ago I had that luxury.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-3215719765562585478?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/3215719765562585478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/trading-bridges-for-those-million.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3215719765562585478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3215719765562585478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/trading-bridges-for-those-million.html' title='Trading bridges for those million parachutes'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6617658723317026970</id><published>2009-04-01T22:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T23:22:54.680-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gushing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Infallacies of Love'/><title type='text'>First Kiss?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://radioriot.deviantart.com/art/first-kiss-571108"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 405px;" src="http://th08.deviantart.com/images/300W/i/2002/31/c/e/first_kiss.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in my senior year of high school when I got my first kiss.  Though, I'm not entirely sure you could even call it a kiss.&lt;br /&gt;My first (and only) boyfriend.  (that's right, this is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the boy&lt;/span&gt;) Though we didn't define it as such.  Come to think of it, we avoided all labels like that.  We were 'going out' as the fashion was then.  (gosh, I say that like I'm old or something.)&lt;br /&gt;(I mean I certainly feel old with everyone I know getting married and having babies and such, but that's an entirely different post.  And seriously, Fresh Prince on Nick at Night?? really?)&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even sure if it was our first date or just one day he dropped me off at my house.  But he had driven me home from somewhere and walked halfway to the door of my house.  It was still daylight (that's really all I remember. I'm gettin' old, remember?).&lt;br /&gt;He stopped me from going any further to give me a hug.  It was a good long hug. I love hugs like that.  As he pulled away, I heard a smooch and felt a brush on my cheek close to my lips but not quite close enough.&lt;br /&gt;I was stunned.&lt;br /&gt;Did I just get kissed? my head spun a little bit.  What was I supposed to do?  Was I supposed to say something?&lt;br /&gt;He just kept walking back to his car.  I was so confused as he got inside.  I managed to walk dumbfounded to the front door where it sunk in that I had actually been given my first kiss.&lt;br /&gt;I kind of smiled because I was still in shock over the whole thing.  I never mentioned it because I was never quite sure if it was intentional.  Or if it even was an actual &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kiss&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;There were many more after this.  Many much better kisses.  Much more kiss like.  I'm not sure why, but this time sticks with me so I consider it my first kiss.&lt;br /&gt;We dated the reminder of my senior year.  He had graduated two years before me but still went to church with me (that's how we got together) but we somehow just puttered out after that.&lt;br /&gt;Two years later, it began again.  With a kiss.  A whole different kind of kiss. (but that's another story.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-6617658723317026970?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6617658723317026970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/first-kiss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6617658723317026970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6617658723317026970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/first-kiss.html' title='First Kiss?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5429441117954427179</id><published>2009-04-01T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T22:45:04.529-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's something.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's been nearly a month since I've seen the boy. &lt;br /&gt;I miss him.&lt;br /&gt;and missing him is making me grumpy and unsociable.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing... No one makes me me like him.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;I've been sleeping a lot more than usual.  I've been crashing before dinner, missing dinner entirely.  Sometimes I'm asleep by 5:30.  And I keep sleeping.  I can't think this is a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;I should probably talk to someone about this but who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started drawing again today.  I haven't even picked up a pencil to doodle in a months.  It used to be something I enjoyed... not sure what happened there.  But I'm happy I picked it up again tonight, even for a short time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm babbling, guys. Forgive me.&lt;br /&gt;But at least I'm writing something.&lt;br /&gt;It's not viable, but it's something.&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/5110027227122884689-5429441117954427179?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5429441117954427179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-something.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5429441117954427179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5429441117954427179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-something.html' title='It&apos;s something.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5570820824090617821</id><published>2009-03-30T18:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T18:57:50.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to go home.</title><content type='html'>I haven't been writing because the internet sucks and I've been exhausted.  and I haven't been down south to see the boy (who has wonderful internet).&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling pretty down again.  About work mostly, as usual...&lt;br /&gt;It's getting to be where every night I'm wishing that I could go home.  Somehow, this place that I've started to see the beauty around me has become so inhospitable to me.  I used to call it home. Now it's just the ranch.&lt;br /&gt;I want to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate being homesick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5570820824090617821?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5570820824090617821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-want-to-go-home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5570820824090617821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5570820824090617821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-want-to-go-home.html' title='I want to go home.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-4105117794835792880</id><published>2009-03-20T21:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T21:04:41.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Question of the day:</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Hybrid Prius or Escalade with gold rims?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;  So I choose the prius mainly because I already have my over-indulgent gas guzzler of a truck that I absolutely LOVE but it is a bit of a killer on the wallet.  Gold rims aside, I don&amp;#39;t need anything flashy just something classy.  Besides, people might start thinking I have a vehicle worth stealing...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:6838"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/6838"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=6838" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-4105117794835792880?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/4105117794835792880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/question-of-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4105117794835792880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4105117794835792880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/question-of-day.html' title='Question of the day:'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6779877179526695742</id><published>2009-03-18T21:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T21:02:44.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Need a giggle? Try 'Bloodsucking Fiends' </title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Laughter isn&amp;#39;t something I&amp;#39;ve been coming by as often as it used to so any book that will make me giggle is a huge plus.  Hysterical laughter? The more the merrier.  At least, then I don&amp;#39;t look so lame and people will stop avoiding the sad/angry-at-life girl...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/search?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;keywords=Bloodsucking+Fiends&amp;amp;tag=plinky09-20&amp;amp;search-alias=books" title="Grab this book from Amazon"&gt;  &lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41cNBbQSE7L._SS250_.jpg" alt="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  Christopher is a ridiculously funny author to begin with and when you add an accidental vampire in there... well, it should cheer you up.  And it&amp;#39;s not even that long of a read.  I think I finished it in two days.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:6544"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/6544"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=6544" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-6779877179526695742?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6779877179526695742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/need-giggle-try-fiends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6779877179526695742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6779877179526695742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/need-giggle-try-fiends.html' title='Need a giggle? Try &amp;#39;Bloodsucking Fiends&amp;#39; '/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6888304806473366884</id><published>2009-03-18T20:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T20:49:10.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/ScG_Y1B3UpI/AAAAAAAAAzM/9DpGt3gV2cQ/s1600-h/20090308_29.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/ScG_Y1B3UpI/AAAAAAAAAzM/9DpGt3gV2cQ/s320/20090308_29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314739468546560658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's kind of depressing when no one stops to read my blog.  I do have a site meter which tells me how many people I've had since I put it on.  I've had 8 visits.  :(  I think the main problem is that I don't allow this to show on my profile for fear that my mom will find it and will start to worry about me.  My mom doesn't need to worry about me anymore than she already does.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should just suck it up and let it show and hope my mom doesn't look.  Oh well...&lt;br /&gt;This blog is for me really, anyway, so I guess I shouldn't even complain.  But it's really nice to get feedback sometimes.  Like for someone to tell me I really am being that dumb or that things aren't as bad as I make them out to be...&lt;br /&gt;People need that sometimes.  At least I know I do.&lt;br /&gt;It helps me to grow...&lt;br /&gt;I'm convinced I'm going through a sort of depression right now.  Being so far away from everyone I know and feeling like a bother to everyone I am near to.  It's hard.&lt;br /&gt;I never thought it would be this hard.  Growing up. Moving away.&lt;br /&gt;College was never this bad.  But I guess I didn't ever have any time to get sad.&lt;br /&gt;It's like camp.  Downtime is when the kids get homesick.  Downtime is when they start crying for their parents, for their own bed... etc. etc.  I have too much downtime and not enough motivation to find something constructive to do with all that extra time.&lt;br /&gt;I've lost all interest in drawing.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is ever good on TV.&lt;br /&gt;No movie will keep my interest for long.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wanna know a secret?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even like riding all that much right now. (*gasp*)&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how to pull myself out of this mode.  I need some feedback.&lt;br /&gt;If I'm ever going to grow, I need to push through the soil so I can finally see the sunlight again.&lt;br /&gt;I miss the sun.&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/5110027227122884689-6888304806473366884?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6888304806473366884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/grow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6888304806473366884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6888304806473366884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/grow.html' title='Grow'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/ScG_Y1B3UpI/AAAAAAAAAzM/9DpGt3gV2cQ/s72-c/20090308_29.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-1384792794321454486</id><published>2009-03-16T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T21:30:40.149-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><title type='text'>Frickin' Horse</title><content type='html'>On Friday, I was putting a little girl up on one of our (previously) best kid horses at work.  His name is Max.  He's a cremello quarter horse and the quietest gelding in the world.  When he had to have surgery last summer, Old Boss had to keep telling the vet techs that he hadn't been sedated yet.  After this particular surgery to relieve the tension in a hind leg tendons, Max was laid up for quite a while.  He was lunged 5-6 days a week at walk then trot as per the vets instructions until he was finally allowed to be used for pony rides and then back out on the trails.&lt;br /&gt;Since then, he has developed some very naughty habits.  He no longer goes out with the herd because we are afraid he will reinjure himself so he stays in one of our larger paddocks.  For a while he was by himself, but now he has a friend - another quarter horse who was laid up for a cough for a long time...&lt;br /&gt;He decided in the time he was by himself that he was quite the horse and should be the big boss.  So when he went out on the trails he found it very entertaining to trot up to the horse in front of him and biting him in the butt.  This is very scary for some children (obviously) so we started making sure he was at least a little tired before putting kids on him.  We would guide on him in the morning and then the child could ride him.  So he was getting better.  We even put some schooling rides on him to get him out of this habit.&lt;br /&gt;So on Friday, I put this little girl on him.  She was fearless and had lessons once a week.  She could handle any mischief he tried.  He tried to trot she would pull him back to a walk and chastise him thoroughly. Gotta love kids like that.  I walked around the front of him like I usually do to change her off side stirrup.  As I walked past his face, with no warning whatsoever - no pinned ears or grumpy face or anything - he bit me.  He grabbed my arm up by the shoulder and bit me.  Hard.  and then let go looking like nothing unusual had happened.&lt;br /&gt;Bastard.&lt;br /&gt;I was stunned.  I  stood there for a second as I realized that he had, in fact, just bitten me and what I could do about it with a child on his back.  I settled on a smack on the neck but it didn't faze him.  But really there was nothing else I could do without risking the girl.&lt;br /&gt;This horse is wonderfully calm.  I wish I could know what was going through his brain that prompted him to just bite me like that.  Whatever it was, it was not cool.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily he did not break the skin... I was wearing several layers since it was pretty chilly out.  But he did leave a pretty good bruise.  Which given the way I sleep with my arms up against my chest, I tend to punch and wake myself up in the middle of the night when I roll over.  Ouch.&lt;br /&gt;Frickin' horse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-1384792794321454486?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/1384792794321454486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/frickin-horse.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1384792794321454486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1384792794321454486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/frickin-horse.html' title='Frickin&apos; Horse'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-767505840275395784</id><published>2009-03-15T13:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T13:57:13.258-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><title type='text'>Life, at the moment</title><content type='html'>So I thought it would be nice if I updated you all on my life lately.  I've joined a blogblock-stopper site that's hopefully going to help me keep writing.  This of course, only helps if I can get online but I'm working on it.  You'll see the posts with the light bulb at the bottom of it, those are my &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/"&gt;Plinky&lt;/a&gt; posts.  They're all responses to prompts on the website which are usually in a question form.  It's pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work seems to be leveling out.  Working at a dude ranch is terribly fun when there are guests and kids running all the time.  The only trouble happens it seems is when all the guests are gone and we are all left to bicker amongst ourselves.  I swear there will never be a barn in exsistence in which there is no drama.  Unless of course there is only one person there.  Then, I suppose the only drama that would be there is the trouble between you and your horse.&lt;br /&gt;Horse people are wonderful people but man, we can really be pigheaded most of the time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I did get my puppy. FINALLY!  She's wonderful.  She's beautiful and adorable.&lt;br /&gt;And so well behaved.  No one believes she's really only 4 months old.  She doesn't leave my side most of the time, and when she does she usually doesn't leave my sight unless she's curled up asleep in the barn.&lt;br /&gt;I've got her right now on a seven day trial to make sure she gets along with the ranch life, alright but already I think I might have a mutiny on my hands if I tried to give her back.  Everyone loves her.  The other dogs are a little indifferent but even Cannon has played with her when he thinks no one's watching.  I'll post some pictures when I'm not at the ranch with bandwidth to worry about.&lt;br /&gt;As it is, I'm writing this on my lunch hour.  I should get back to the barn and finish up work for today.  There's no guests so I just have to clean up and turn the horses out to pasture and feed everyone.  Exciting. Exciting. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-767505840275395784?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/767505840275395784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/life-at-moment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/767505840275395784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/767505840275395784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/life-at-moment.html' title='Life, at the moment'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-2601114579404310919</id><published>2009-03-15T13:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T13:44:25.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Seat me next to the quiet creepy guy, please</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I&amp;#39;ve been on several trips lately.  Although, most recently I&amp;#39;ve been lucky enough to be seated by my beau since we were travelling together.  But if I had the choice to sit between a talkative person with a really irritating voice or a quiet person who kept staring at me, I believe I would sit next to the quiet starer.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;  Because I could just turn away from them and ignore them.  Besides, if it was a cute guy, I could pretend that he thought I was stunningly beautiful and was at a loss for words.  Call me optimistic.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:5978"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/5978"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=5978" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-2601114579404310919?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/2601114579404310919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/seat-me-next-to-quiet-creepy-guy-please.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2601114579404310919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2601114579404310919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/seat-me-next-to-quiet-creepy-guy-please.html' title='Seat me next to the quiet creepy guy, please'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5088605564852603367</id><published>2009-03-03T18:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T18:30:15.122-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stressed? I'm not stressed! Now hand me that ice cream before anyone gets hurt.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;  &lt;img style="border: 0;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/18/68944042_79017e276a.jpg" /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;a href='http://www.flickr.com/photos/Kanko*/68944042' target='_blank'&gt;chocolate ice cream&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a href='http://www.flickr.com/photos/Kanko*' target='_blank'&gt;Kanko*&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;  Chocolate is my passion at any point in my life.  But when I&amp;#39;m stressed or depressed there had better be something chocolate around or someone&amp;#39;s head will be taken off. (That or I&amp;#39;ll collapse in tears of self-pity, but that&amp;#39;s besides the point.)&lt;br/&gt;Chocolate ice cream is that much better.  Oooo with fudge swirls and brownie chunks... and chocolate chips?&lt;br/&gt;And give me a Seagrams Wild Berry any day to take the edge off.  Or a Margarita on the rocks.  Or a shot of something with a bite.  That&amp;#39;ll do the trick.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:4080"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/4080"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=4080" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5088605564852603367?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5088605564852603367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/stressed-i-not-stressed-now-hand-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5088605564852603367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5088605564852603367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/stressed-i-not-stressed-now-hand-me.html' title='Stressed? I&amp;#39;m not stressed! Now hand me that ice cream before anyone gets hurt.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/18/68944042_79017e276a_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-8082397934943732303</id><published>2009-03-02T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T18:25:19.099-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Acting out?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I feel like I've worked my ass off at this job and have it all come to nothing.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe my behavior the last month and a half hasn't been top notch but let's for a second consider that maybe I'm acting out a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm feeling just the tiniest bit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;under appreciated. &lt;br /&gt;When I started, I took on all the morning feeding chores.  So much so that on one of my days off, neither Old Boss or Stuck-in-his-ways showed up to feed. &lt;br /&gt;Not that I really blame them.  I'm just trying to build my case.&lt;br /&gt;I worked hard in the barn all day, never complaining.  Tried to make everyone else smile.  After work, I noticed that the ladies forgot to come get plates at dinner.  Or the kitchen was in a rush&lt;br /&gt;to get the food out.  I would always pitch in a hand. &lt;br /&gt;Need someone to get the cookies for lunch that someone forgot?&lt;br /&gt;Heck, have a wedding?  I'll help serve.  I'll help do the dishes.&lt;br /&gt;When Old Boss left I was left in charge of all the ordering and scheduling. &lt;br /&gt;I did all of this in my own spare time.  When everyone else was done in the barn, I went home to make the schedule (three or four times over, if need be) and order the supplies we needed.  I made a lot of the paper work in the barn easier to read.&lt;br /&gt;Now anyone can tell when a horse is due for shoeing if the paper has been filled out.  All of this, I did in my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;spare time&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Need a babysitter?  I'm here.&lt;br /&gt;Need a temporary bartender?  I'm here. I'll help.&lt;br /&gt;I've never complained.  I asked for an evaluation. &lt;br /&gt;I was told I was doing a superior job (with a few nit picky spots of improvement).&lt;br /&gt;I asked for a raise.  I was told the money wasn't there.  But I was told that I deserved one.&lt;br /&gt;I got a pat on the back and sent on my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was frustrated.  I deserved a raise but there was nothing to give me.  Nobody even offered anything instead.&lt;br /&gt;I was given more side jobs.  I did them and the barn job without complaint.  I never asked for anything...&lt;br /&gt;except for a dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'We'll see how the job works for you,' I was told when I took the job.  'But sure...'&lt;br /&gt;After Old Boss left and I was asked to stay, I asked. 'Wait until after labor day'&lt;br /&gt;So I waited,  I looked at dogs when the time came but I was given all these conditions that the dog had to meet.&lt;br /&gt;And then I was leaving for two weeks, I couldn't get a dog and then leave it while I went home in January.&lt;br /&gt;So I waited, I get back to new management.  'You need a dog,' they said.&lt;br /&gt;I started looking. I found one after thousands of false starts...&lt;br /&gt;and it's now being dangled in front of me like a carrot on a string.&lt;br /&gt;I don't get a yes or no.  Just, 'let's wait and see'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they wonder why I've stopped giving a crap about anything.&lt;br /&gt;Why I've developed a bad attitude.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm being childish...&lt;br /&gt;But I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I was just acting out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-8082397934943732303?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/8082397934943732303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/acting-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8082397934943732303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8082397934943732303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/03/acting-out.html' title='Acting out?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-1778333354745330870</id><published>2009-02-28T16:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T16:30:31.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jealous</title><content type='html'>I keep stumbling on these horse blogs lately and I find myself becoming rather jealous.  They all are having struggles with their horses that they are trying to overcome.&lt;br /&gt;Here I am.  I work with sixteen horses every day.  I get paid to do it.  And yet, I don't have the same feeling with those horses.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's because they aren't mine.  Even my favorite horse out of the bunch that I ride all the time isn't mine.  When I say they aren't mine, I mean I am not their sore source for learning, for loving.It's just not the same.  I'm not in charge of anything.&lt;br /&gt;Not a damn thing.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, I'm in a really crappy mood.  I was trying to write something worthwhile but it's not coming right now.  I hope the rain we're supposed to get comes quickly and hard.  It would suit my mood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-1778333354745330870?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/1778333354745330870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/jealous.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1778333354745330870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1778333354745330870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/jealous.html' title='Jealous'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-769825278782937727</id><published>2009-02-25T19:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T19:45:32.813-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me being an Idiot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><title type='text'>I want to be better</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://whisperingvoice.deviantart.com/art/I-don-t-want-to-grow-up-100644660"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 214px;" src="http://th03.deviantart.com/fs37/300W/f/2008/288/d/2/d2e6925a7f3a01bfe38a6947b81ef947.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to grow up.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be the more mature person.  The bigger person.&lt;br /&gt;I do.&lt;br /&gt;I really, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not.  I'm only 24.  I've still got a lot of learning to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today at lunch, I was talking to the last coworker I have who still tries to make me smile, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mo&lt;/span&gt;.  We were talking about another job I had been moonlighting at.  Bartending.&lt;br /&gt;My boss at the bar is kind of a nitpick.  All the bottles in the cooler have to be lined up just right, everything has to be kept spotless and just so...  Basically, he likes things a certain way and he has good reasons for what he asks people to do.  I get that.  I can do that.  It's easy.  Do it his way and everything's cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I just say that?  Like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;out loud&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I really that dense?&lt;br /&gt;How is that boss any different really than &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stuck-in-his-ways Cowboy&lt;/span&gt; (I've just decided to call him)?  He just wants things done his way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, they seem pointless.&lt;br /&gt;A lot of them are time wasters, maybe.&lt;br /&gt;But in all reality, work doesn't take that long anyway.  At least when there aren't guests around.&lt;br /&gt;And he is my boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, he shouldn't has cussed me up and down the Mississippi River.&lt;br /&gt;No, he shouldn't have called me names. &lt;strike through=""&gt;Perhaps I have been a tiny bit childish.&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, I should be better with authority.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know where my problem with authority comes from.  Even my parents when I was young made me look up the word 'condescending' in the dictionary so I would know how I was talking to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I knew what my problem was, I could maybe fix it.  But I don't, so I'm stuck.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the fact that I pride myself on being independent and work hard to stay that way.  I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;Anyone out there in blog world know what I'm talking about here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate realizing I've been wrong this whole damn time.&lt;br /&gt;When is it my turn to say 'I told you so.'?&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/5110027227122884689-769825278782937727?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/769825278782937727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-want-to-be-better.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/769825278782937727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/769825278782937727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-want-to-be-better.html' title='I want to be better'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-3157004055164191753</id><published>2009-02-22T20:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T20:51:35.661-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Croak...</title><content type='html'>There are creatures living under the closed off eaves of my house.  Those creatures tend to squeak and shuffle around this time of night.  I'm not sure if they're mice or bats but they certainly are annoying when I want to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;The frogs are no help either.&lt;br /&gt;You see, my house is almost sandwiched between the barn and the pond. Closer to the barn - in fact my back porch (that I never use) looks out into the horse paddock but I'm really close to the pond.  The frogs live around this lake and they really like to sing their hearts out.&lt;br /&gt;Too bad they don't dance... they could totally make me millions... millions I say! And smoking cigars in front of a giant theatre in a full tux and a cape (I've always wanted a cape...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QGE8wVTvHF0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QGE8wVTvHF0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to what I was saying...  These frogs don't dance.  And they don't actually sing either.  They just croak.&lt;br /&gt;All.&lt;br /&gt;Night.&lt;br /&gt;Long.&lt;br /&gt;And my walls are paper thin - they barely keep the wind out.  If the Big Bad Wolf came around, my cabin wouldn't stand a chance.  Just sayin'&lt;br /&gt;And the only way to get them to quiet down is to let  off a loud noise.&lt;br /&gt;Like a shotgun blast.&lt;br /&gt;And then its blessedly quiet for a little while.&lt;br /&gt;Until one frog, one frog gets brave enough to croak once.  And then again.&lt;br /&gt;Then a couple more join him.&lt;br /&gt;Then a few more.&lt;br /&gt;The the whole pond full of frogs is off again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So those creatures crawling around and squeaking right above my head are really only just half of the symphony that goes on nightly at the ranch.  Too bad most nights, it doesn't put me to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;If only they could really sing.  Maybe there's a green box hidden in the pond somewhere...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z0DYj5t4SI0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z0DYj5t4SI0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-3157004055164191753?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/3157004055164191753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/croak.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3157004055164191753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3157004055164191753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/croak.html' title='Croak...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-9111070313447661575</id><published>2009-02-22T19:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T19:58:00.088-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hindsight always leaves me reaching for ice cream and alcohol.</title><content type='html'>So I just belatedly realized that I have been a college graduate for over a year already.  Yipes!&lt;br /&gt;It's crazy how fast time goes by sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;It's a little depressing about how this time of years seems to be really bad for me in terms of work.&lt;br /&gt;Last year, I started a job in January.  Started to feel overworked and stressed in February.  Got yelled at most of March and April.  And left in May.&lt;br /&gt;Now, here I am in February '09, getting in trouble and getting yelled at. &lt;br /&gt;Am I really on a train to nowhere?&lt;br /&gt;That's a scary thought.&lt;br /&gt;How did I get so discontent? &lt;br /&gt;It's been a year. Wow.  I'm still in shock.  It's not even that I feel like I'm getting old - I'm only 24.  Though the mid-twenties is something I never though I'd reach.  I feel like I should recap the year.  I know this is something everyone normal does around new years, but I actually have the time NOW.&lt;br /&gt;And it's my blog and I'll do what I want.  So there.&lt;br /&gt;Just Kidding.  You don't have to read this.  You can go ahead and click next blog if you want and find someone less crazy than me.&lt;br /&gt;Go on.&lt;br /&gt;Go on...&lt;br /&gt;Still with me?&lt;br /&gt;Are you sure?&lt;br /&gt;Ok...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;January:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a job as a groom for a grand prix rider.  I moved all the way to &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/moving-up-and-out.html"&gt;Atlanta, Georgia&lt;/a&gt;.  I got my very own apartment and everything.  Though, I barely got to unpack since a week later I had to repack and learn to live in a camper with my English coworker  (Otherwise known as &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/venting-week-1-of-new-job.html"&gt;English Lass&lt;/a&gt;) in Florida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;February:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hadn't had a day off since I started working.  I was getting tired.  I found out that my English coworker was actually my English boss.  Whoops.  Got in trouble for that.  (If someone had told me earlier, maybe I could have held my tongue a bit better)  Oh well..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;March:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Still super tired.  Still haven't had a day off.  I began wondering if that was illegal to work someone 14-16 hours a day without any time off.  Yes, I said, no time off.  Not even lunch.  Living in such close quarters with my boss was getting pretty hard but the end was in sight.  The big &lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/new-job-week-2.html"&gt;boss lady&lt;/a&gt; (Not to be confused with English Lass) started making fun of me for my college and my background.  But by the end of the month I finally had a day off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;April:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;We went home to Georgia.  I finally got to explore the town.  I got to take care of those awesome expensive show horses all on my own.  I worked hard and tried to keep the barn looking clean and awesome.  I got a &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/R_Q0suxByEI/AAAAAAAAAD0/FddGijhgiZI/s1600-h/Haircut.jpg"&gt;haircut&lt;/a&gt;.  But I kept getting in trouble for little stuff that I wasn't doing quite right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;May&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;English Lass and Boss Lady came home after two weeks of being gone.  I was sick at the time and so English Lass let me stay in my house while they brought the horses in.  Then Boss Lady let loose.  The stalls weren't clean enough.  I heard her say every single curse word connected with my name imaginable.  She called me down and screamed at me.  Literally.  That night, I packed my bags.  The next morning, I cleaned the stalls that 'weren't clean enough'. And I packed my car and drove home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... my dates are a bit off as I found out as I was looking through some other older blog entries but you get the point.  I did head home in May.  The I drove across the nation to Northern California and started this job a week later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;May, June, July, August, September, October, November:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The honeymoon period.  This job was wonderful.  I had friends ready made.  Everyone was so very nice. There were a few spats in there somewhere.  And now here I am, just a little while later and almost ready to be fired.  Is it me?&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that yes, it probably is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, this post isn't what I thought it was going to be.  Maybe it'll work better next time.  I'm going to go scarf down a bowl of ice cream and drink what's left of my wine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&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/5110027227122884689-9111070313447661575?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/9111070313447661575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/hindsight-always-leaves-me-reaching-for.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/9111070313447661575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/9111070313447661575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/hindsight-always-leaves-me-reaching-for.html' title='Hindsight always leaves me reaching for ice cream and alcohol.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6177819523700183253</id><published>2009-02-22T17:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T17:55:48.102-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Theme Song.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wr0amgjDGIs&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wr0amgjDGIs&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-6177819523700183253?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6177819523700183253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/theme-song.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6177819523700183253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6177819523700183253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/theme-song.html' title='Theme Song.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-3479067908628985152</id><published>2009-02-22T17:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T17:54:37.993-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stressed'/><title type='text'>Wilted</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SaH6QgWVwZI/AAAAAAAAAqw/QeAABg6qlqk/s1600-h/20090222_20.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SaH6QgWVwZI/AAAAAAAAAqw/QeAABg6qlqk/s320/20090222_20.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305796997487640978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I feel wilted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I woke up ready to hold my head high and tell my asshole of a boss that he could not ever treat me the way he treated me again.&lt;br /&gt;And I almost got myself fired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up early.  I turned my Ipod on to the kick ass play list I made the night before.  I straightened my hair.  I put on makeup.  I put on just enough jewelry for luck. I made sure my outfit was perfect.  I did everthing except wear my man-eater heels.&lt;br /&gt;I can't work in those.  Not in the barn.&lt;br /&gt;I worked my ass off all morning before the meeting.  I tried to do everything exactly as I had been told.  Show that I knew what to do(now), and I could do it right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one backed me up.&lt;br /&gt;No one told even told me that he was in the wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all my fault he blew up at me, they told me.&lt;br /&gt;I should have been following directions, they said.&lt;br /&gt;He's still new.  He's still learning how to communicate, they told me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my fault.&lt;br /&gt;I would have been following directions, had I known what they were.&lt;br /&gt;How come he gets a free ride for verbally abusing me&lt;br /&gt;and I get threatened with getting fired?&lt;br /&gt;Fine, I told them.&lt;br /&gt;I will do what I am told exactly how I'm told.&lt;br /&gt;I will be polite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I turned to him.&lt;br /&gt;I will not respect you unless you earn it back.&lt;br /&gt;I left my last job for being verbally abused&lt;br /&gt;and I will not tolerate it from you.&lt;br /&gt;I leveled my eyes at him, burning on the inside.&lt;br /&gt;You should have been reprimanded at the very least for treating me like shit.&lt;br /&gt;I will not ever give you the satisfaction of seeing me cry again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;(I did not actually call him an asshole, even though I was screaming every pofanity I could think of in my head.  I would not stoop to his level.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I was almost immediately fired on the spot.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;All my extra things I had been doing to help people out were taken away from me.  I was given a list of duties and I am not allowed to deviate from them.  No matter how idiotic they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and some of them are... they really are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning angrier than I have been in a long time.&lt;br /&gt;I can't even change things.&lt;br /&gt;I was made into a liar and no one will listen to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I didn't even get an appology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;asshole.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I had friends.&lt;br /&gt;I, apparently, was mistaken on all accounts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/5110027227122884689-3479067908628985152?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/3479067908628985152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/wilted.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3479067908628985152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3479067908628985152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/wilted.html' title='Wilted'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SaH6QgWVwZI/AAAAAAAAAqw/QeAABg6qlqk/s72-c/20090222_20.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-1578307756543065932</id><published>2009-02-21T14:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T17:53:50.618-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sleepless'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stressed'/><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>Well, I was.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm one step away from getting fired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-1578307756543065932?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/1578307756543065932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1578307756543065932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1578307756543065932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5104486615529881975</id><published>2009-02-21T08:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T17:54:08.776-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Causing trouble'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fabulousness of Being Female'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am going to kick some serious ass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5104486615529881975?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5104486615529881975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-am-going-to-kick-some-serious-ass.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5104486615529881975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5104486615529881975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-am-going-to-kick-some-serious-ass.html' title=''/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-34245695814798884</id><published>2009-02-20T11:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T12:22:45.134-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm in trouble at work&lt;br /&gt;again.&lt;br /&gt;I screwed up.  But not this time.  I wasn't giving any attitude.  I was just trying to do my job.  I was trying to do what I was told.  But I still somehow got it wrong.&lt;br /&gt;My ideas are stupid.  He doesn't want to hear them anymore.  He doesn't want to hear any more of my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fucking&lt;/span&gt; ideas.&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't look him in the eye.  I didn't want to draw attention to the hurt I felt.&lt;br /&gt;I was crying.  I couldn't help it.&lt;br /&gt;And that just pissed him off even more.&lt;br /&gt;He called me a baby.  A &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fucking&lt;/span&gt; baby.  He cussed me up and down.&lt;br /&gt;Didn't I want to learn?  He was trying to teach me something and I wasn't even listening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; did&lt;/span&gt; want to learn.  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was &lt;/span&gt;listening.  I just couldn't look at him and maintain any semblance of composure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He cussed me again and told me he couldn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fucking &lt;/span&gt;stand to look at me.  'Go to the house.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why was he cussing at me?  I was trying to do what he told me.  He just didn't tell me exactly how he wanted me to do it.  And I got in trouble for not doing it exactly the way he wanted it done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm not making much sense.  But somehow I'm feeling like my world is toppling around me.  Is it me?  I'm starting to think it is.  Am I that hard to work with?  What about me makes bosses scream and cuss at me?  Will I ever find a job again that I can be appreciated and not torn down?&lt;br /&gt;He threatened to fire me.&lt;br /&gt;What should I do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-34245695814798884?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/34245695814798884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-in-trouble-at-work-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/34245695814798884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/34245695814798884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-in-trouble-at-work-again.html' title=''/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5952823565202220094</id><published>2009-02-15T11:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T11:13:48.658-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What happened?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SZhpUpjHddI/AAAAAAAAAoc/LrL1pIxvvGo/s1600-h/MILK_2_by_TrixyPixie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SZhpUpjHddI/AAAAAAAAAoc/LrL1pIxvvGo/s320/MILK_2_by_TrixyPixie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303104364700202450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I did something stupid at work.  It was a small thing but it could have been a very big thing.  The girl I was putting on her horse yesterday didn't have a helmet.  I didn't even notice.  I mean, eventually, her sister said something, and I got her down and had them get their helmets.&lt;br /&gt;I feel really really dumb.  Like I feel like I should get fired.  I feel like I've done so many things wrong lately that I don't even want to show my face.  I want to hide my head under a pillow and let the world forget about me for a little while.&lt;br /&gt;I want to quit.  Because that would be easier.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure when that even became an option for me.  Quitting was never an option for me.  Ever.&lt;br /&gt;Until recently.  What's up with me?  When did my confidence leave me?&lt;br /&gt;Why did it leave me?&lt;br /&gt;I want to be the strong girl I used to be.  I want to be the girl that could face the music when she screwed up.  I want to be the girl that could look people in the eye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5952823565202220094?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5952823565202220094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-happened.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5952823565202220094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5952823565202220094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-happened.html' title='What happened?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SZhpUpjHddI/AAAAAAAAAoc/LrL1pIxvvGo/s72-c/MILK_2_by_TrixyPixie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-3985016790372526667</id><published>2009-02-08T20:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T20:39:16.694-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Causing trouble'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stressed'/><title type='text'>Feet to the Fire</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SY-y_RnxfUI/AAAAAAAAAoI/EqzxQnJqhEw/s1600-h/2008_11100035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SY-y_RnxfUI/AAAAAAAAAoI/EqzxQnJqhEw/s320/2008_11100035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300652086570089794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;There's a meeting at work in a couple of days.&lt;br /&gt;I'm dreading it.&lt;br /&gt;There's been drama and this meeting is supposed to clear up everything.&lt;br /&gt;It makes me nervous.&lt;br /&gt;You know the feeling you get when someone important says 'Hey, we need to talk'.  It's almost never good.  This feels like that.&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be one of those meetings where everyone gets to have their chance to talk without interruption.  Good right?  yeah... I hope so.  I always have bad feelings about these meetings.  Bad memories maybe?  They always seem to cause more problems than they help.  At least that's been the case in my memory.&lt;br /&gt;This feels especially complicated since this meeting is with my boss and the managers.&lt;br /&gt;I'm terrified that I'm going to end up in tears.  I hate crying.  I especially hate crying in front of the person who made me want to cry.  I don't like giving them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.  Bastards.&lt;br /&gt;I like this job.  But things haven't been anywhere near smooth in the barn since the old barn manager left and my boss moved up.  Especially since he hasn't been doing anything boss like.  And this is what this meeting is supposed to address.  But it terrifies me.  I think part of it is that I know (or at least, think) that most of the tension is my fault.  If only I could be just an employee who only does what's asked and then go home.&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not wired like that.  I'm wired to be an overachiever.  When I work, I work whole-heartedly.  I've always said I wouldn't have a job I didn't like.  And when I do have a job that I like, I always want to make it better.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like&lt;/span&gt; working.  It gives me purpose, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;I've been told I'm a natural leader.  I don't know about that.  But I do know that I suck at following.  I never mean to undercut anyone (unless their being a dumb-ass and as such deserve it).  I just have lots of ideas to help things run smoother and I want the approval of those around me. (seriously though, doesn't everybody?)&lt;br /&gt;I don't really have to be right.  But I do have to be given good enough reason that I'm wrong.  Don't tell me 'no' and not give me a good reason for it.&lt;br /&gt;That doesn't sit well with me.&lt;br /&gt;I can't handle a boss telling me 'no' just because they said so.  It's stupid.&lt;br /&gt;I know it's their purogative, being boss and all.  But it's dumb.&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I know the reason behind your decision?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This passion I have, I don't even know what it is or where it comes from.  But it does get me in a lot of trouble.  And that is why I'm slightly terrified of this meeting.&lt;br /&gt;I just wish I could handle it.  But I don't know how.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure all my worrying is over nothing and this meeting is going to be fine.  Everything will work out fine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I certainly feel like my feet are being put into the fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-3985016790372526667?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/3985016790372526667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/feet-to-fire.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3985016790372526667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3985016790372526667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/feet-to-fire.html' title='Feet to the Fire'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SY-y_RnxfUI/AAAAAAAAAoI/EqzxQnJqhEw/s72-c/2008_11100035.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-4003848667529974157</id><published>2009-02-07T22:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T22:23:56.278-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Monikers?</title><content type='html'>So I've always been horrible about coming up with monikers or whatever you call them but I've decided on a couple after watching Smokey and the Bandit.&lt;br /&gt;Yup, that's right.  I said it.  Smokey and the Bandit.&lt;br /&gt;What is that?  The epitome of hilbilly/redneck stunts?  Hell yes.  Do I actually know people like that in real life?  Hell yes!&lt;br /&gt;So...&lt;br /&gt;Drum roll please...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/12/mistake.html"&gt;Bandit&lt;/a&gt; is a show off and crazy just like his namesake.  Come on, going into the college pond in a laundry basket..sledding?!?!  Drives like him too. And chases after the girls too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2006/09/don-want-to-be-that-girl.html"&gt;Snowman&lt;/a&gt; is really pretty intuitive but just as crazy as his friend.  This boy has made me face more things about myself than I ever wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to come up with some more.  Especially for the number one man in this blog.  'M' does not do justice to everything he does to me.  And then there's the friends that will appear from time to time if I ever actually can get myself to write even semi regularly.  Stay with me folks, I need all the support I can get.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-4003848667529974157?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/4003848667529974157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/monikers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4003848667529974157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4003848667529974157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/02/monikers.html' title='Monikers?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-7055884447834546118</id><published>2009-01-19T21:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T22:19:13.361-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://gothic-ko.deviantart.com/art/Identity-48237444"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 307px;" src="http://fc18.deviantart.com/fs24/f/2007/313/e/c/Identity_III_by_Gothic_Ko.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fear thinks that I need to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do something&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in order to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;make someone like me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;-&lt;a href="http://tsquest.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Quest for T&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I need to just be.  Maybe I need to just be me.  I can't make people like me.  I probably can't even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;help&lt;/span&gt; them to like me, because then it won't be me.  It'll be someone I've made myself become for them.  And what's the good in that.  How is someone going to know me, if I don't let myself &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be known&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;God help me maybe I can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-7055884447834546118?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/7055884447834546118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/01/maybe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7055884447834546118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7055884447834546118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/01/maybe.html' title='Maybe...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5432365493198366693</id><published>2009-01-19T21:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T21:51:03.597-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><title type='text'>Where's my friend?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://m0thyyku.deviantart.com/art/imaginary-friend-102817553"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 410px; height: 345px;" src="http://fc81.deviantart.com/fs33/i/2008/311/9/b/imaginary_friend___by_m0thyyku.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm so far away from everyone out here.  Everyone who knows me, isn't here.  I need someone I don't have to explain myself to but will listen when I need to explain myself anyway.  I never thought it would be so hard.&lt;br /&gt;I feel so socially inept.  It's not that I have a hard time making friends.  I'm likable (apparently).  And yet, I feel nothing but awkward around people.  I over-analyze.  I'm super paranoid about annoying someone, about doing something that will make someone not like me.  And I don't know why.  It's so bad that I start to freeze up.  I don't know what to do.  And so, though I've made a connection - I can't keep it.  It's like I'm cock-blocking myself (you know, if I had one.. or if I was talking about sex).&lt;br /&gt;I made a friend.  A good friend.  It's a work friendship but he's cool.  But now, I come back and I can't even talk to him.  He's always with the new manager.&lt;br /&gt;...and I'm jealous.&lt;br /&gt;They have all these jokes.  I'm not in on anything.  I feel like a third wheel.  I feel...&lt;br /&gt;Replaced.&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm overreacting.  I know it's nothing.  But he's my friend... my only friend out here within three hours.  No one else hangs out with me.  No one else tries to make me laugh.  No one else lets me complain selfishly about my 'boss'.&lt;br /&gt;Gah!  Listen to me... I'm whining.  What has happened to me?  Why can't I be self sufficient?  And if that is impossible, why can't I depend on anyone?&lt;br /&gt;I just need a friend.&lt;br /&gt;Where's my friend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5432365493198366693?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5432365493198366693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/01/wheres-my-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5432365493198366693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5432365493198366693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/01/wheres-my-friend.html' title='Where&apos;s my friend?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-1438110105064838723</id><published>2009-01-12T12:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T12:53:26.635-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><title type='text'>What happened to the person I wanted to be?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://venomer.deviantart.com/art/Depression-70343639#"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 422px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://th06.deviantart.com/fs24/300W/i/2007/333/4/5/Depression_by_Venomer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've always felt that I could make myself be who I want to be simply by force of will. Simply by wanting it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to be confident so I act confident and tell that little voice in my head to politely &lt;em&gt;shut-the-hell-up&lt;/em&gt;. And it works.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kind of.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I come across as more outgoing, more confident. My friends tell me they wish they could be like that. What they don't know is that it really is all just an act. It's just fake it til you make, baby.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't &lt;em&gt;feel&lt;/em&gt; more confident. I'm still a self conscious little ball of scared timidity just like everyone else. Is it this way for everyone? Are people who seem confident just &lt;em&gt;acting&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So this has been my life up to now. I've been deciding how I want people to see me and acting that out as I best see fit. When I was a kid, I used to always wonder what people would say about me when I was dead. Would anyone cry? Would anyone even come to my funeral? And if they did, would they because they wanted to or because they thought they had to? Apparently, I was a morbid child...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reguardless... all this nonesense I seem to be spouting leads me to nothing. I do seem to be rambling. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorry. Let me start again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The point is that while driving the utterly straight highway I was thinking that somehow I've changed without ever realizing it. And I'm still not the person I want to be. If anything, I feel like I've gone backwards. I passed a person on the highway and just stared at him as I drove passed. When I got back oaver in the right lane, I saw him wave at me in my rearview mirror. A couple of years ago, as I passed, I would smile really big and wave to see if I could brighten their day. And I did it to everyone. It totally made my day to have a trucker honk their horn and flash their lights at me after I waved. (Ok... so I like the attention... it's not like I flashed them or anything...seriously, I didn't.) But now, I've become one of those people who is so selfabsorbed in my own life, my own problems, that it doesn't even occur to me to try to smile at a stranger anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When did I become that person?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of my resolutions was to smile more. I must have seen it coming to make that a resolution. But somehow, it still slipped past me. How did I get so grumpy? I can't even pull myself up to &lt;em&gt;act&lt;/em&gt; it anymore. I'll think about trying to smile at a passing driver but they pass before I ever work up the energy to pull up the corners of my mouth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What happened to the person I wanted to be? Why is she not here yet? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;and worse yet...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why did I give up on trying to keep being her?&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/5110027227122884689-1438110105064838723?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/1438110105064838723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-happened-to-person-i-wanted-to-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1438110105064838723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/1438110105064838723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-happened-to-person-i-wanted-to-be.html' title='What happened to the person I wanted to be?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-2392722956013826633</id><published>2009-01-09T22:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T22:26:58.514-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't ignore me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://postsecret.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289547540117763858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SWg_dmdCtxI/AAAAAAAAAng/6exuKg-ZSws/s320/ibelieveyou.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; PostSecret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So hopefully I can write honestly here. My mind is always thinking, pondering, wondering of the facts of my world. I know when I talk I sound disjointed. My thoughts never connect just right in my mouth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And it always.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Always.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sounds better in my head.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But somehow, on paper. It works better. Like my fingers understand better than my mouth does.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;At least that's what I keep telling myself so I feel a little less like a dumbass when, once again,, someone laughs at something I say because it came out all wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I like to think I write well. Though sporatically. And when I feel comfortable enough to write honestly that's when it comes out beautifully.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't just want to write about my days. I do that enough on my other blog. And there is nothing of value from just a catalog of my doings. My life just isn't that exciting. It just isn't. So I have to go a bit deeper. Dig a little further. Make my words count.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've always wanted to be the kind of person that doesn't waste words. That when I talk, it means something and people listen. Though sadly, I don't believe that to be the case. I waste words all the time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm easy to ignore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've missed the point somehow. My words just blend into that buzz, that white noise of everything no one cares about and is ignored.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;What comes out of my mouth isn't deep. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Isn't meaningful. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Isn't even helpful most of the time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And maybe what my fingers type isn't any better, but I like it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And isn't that what art is anyway?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm not saying I'm exceptional. I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels just like this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Just...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I guess what I'm trying to get out is&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Don't ignore me. Give me a chance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I want to make a difference.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I want to change the world.&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/5110027227122884689-2392722956013826633?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/2392722956013826633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/01/dont-ignore-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2392722956013826633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/2392722956013826633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/01/dont-ignore-me.html' title='Don&apos;t ignore me.'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SWg_dmdCtxI/AAAAAAAAAng/6exuKg-ZSws/s72-c/ibelieveyou.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-4453076677105134542</id><published>2009-01-09T21:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:41:17.463-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Introduction</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SWg0w6Z_rfI/AAAAAAAAAnY/FKRHMj5W8r4/s1600-h/20090108_57.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289535777263300082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SWg0w6Z_rfI/AAAAAAAAAnY/FKRHMj5W8r4/s320/20090108_57.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So in case you're wondering... This blog has moved. (to here...not away from)I've missed having a place to write for myself. I have another blog where I update my family about my goings'-ons but I don't feel free enough to let myself write about what I want. Isn't that always the trouble with blogs. I don't care who reads this. I just don't want to know because that will hinder the whole process I think. It may not. It depends on the person I think. It's been a whole year since I've written as Silver on Unconquered Mountains so there is a lot missing like how I'm no longer in Georgia but in California. Closer to M. Farther away from my prissy ex-boss. Farther away from everything else familiar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;How I got away and so on might come up in another post. Who knows. I failed to make a new years resolution this year due to lots of things I'm not going to bring up now but I'm going to make one now. My new years resolution is to write in here when I feel like it and as often as possible. I need an outlet for some of my emotions. And writing works for me. So this is where I am. But my internet connection where I live leaves something grand to be desired so I can only post when that is available.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;No one's real names will be used and you may think I am talking about you it may be possible but like as not I'm not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But here's the truth. I need all the support I can get to keep this thing afloat. I know part of that is keeping myself writing. It's the only way to get people to read. But let me tell you, it's hard to write without an audience. At least for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Also... just to get this out of the way. Some of the pictures I use on this blog are my photos some are not. Those that aren't I've picked up from various sites and at deviantart. As I can I post the original artist but I may not always be successful since I have saved a lot of art on my computer sans names and have long since forgotten where I got them at. So forgive me if I use something I shouldn't and let me know and I will replace it. Consider my blog a work of art, for I am a bit of an artist. It's just, for this particular piece, I chose to use mixed media (think collage). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Wish me luck. I'm trying again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So here goes nothing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I submit this for approval to you, my audience.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-4453076677105134542?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/4453076677105134542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/01/introduction.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4453076677105134542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/4453076677105134542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2009/01/introduction.html' title='Introduction'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SWg0w6Z_rfI/AAAAAAAAAnY/FKRHMj5W8r4/s72-c/20090108_57.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6888211129685250059</id><published>2008-01-19T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T22:36:58.094-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GrowingUp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><title type='text'>New Job: Week 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's getting better.  Boss Lady acknowledges my presence a bit more.  English Lass and I have become friends.  i'm still not ok with the roomate situation at the moment however.  I haven't had much time away from her.  i need some time alone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The tears that have been building over the last two weeks finally broke the dam today.  I didn't get to ride and that triggered it.  It seems a bit childish but it was just everything that was bothering me coming to a head.  Luckily the barn was empty and I could just bury my head in the horse's side and sob while Boss Lady and English Lass were showing horses to prosepective buyers.  I need a friend outside of work around here but with these hours its not like I have time to get away from the barn or camper to socialize.  Even if I had time, I probably wouldn't have the energy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;On the brightside the horses have monday off.  Which means I have a day off.  Kind of. I still have to feed and such but at least I can relax a bit more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It is getting better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have a our legged friend who follows me around and sleep in my bed with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I bought him a ball.  He's addicted to the thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-6888211129685250059?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6888211129685250059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/new-job-week-2.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6888211129685250059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6888211129685250059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/new-job-week-2.html' title='New Job: Week 2'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-9114937422727724290</id><published>2008-01-12T17:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T22:36:58.094-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stressed'/><title type='text'>Venting: Week 1 of New Job</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ohmyapt.apartmentratings.com/images/sad_dog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://ohmyapt.apartmentratings.com/images/sad_dog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not enjoying Florida so much. I'm just not feeling welcome really. It's not that Boss Lady and English Lass aren't nice. They are. I just feel like a neglected dog that gets the occasional hello and pats on the shoulder when they notice I'm there.&lt;br /&gt;Don't mind me. I'm just working my ass off for you. That's all.&lt;br /&gt;They both love to talk. A lot. and it really doesn't matter if anyone is actually listening. But I do listen. And when I say something, it usually gets shot down for like ten minutes when a simple 'no' would do.&lt;br /&gt;I know it's because I'm new and I'm under a lot of stress but I really just want to go home. I want a hug.&lt;br /&gt;I've been fighting tears all day for no good reason. I cant wait until I get paid. Maybe then I'll feel some validation and satifaction. I think I would even be content to be back in Georgia. I miss my own space. This sharing a camper deal isn't nice. Especially since the couch/futon bed I'm in is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever been on. And now I'm expected to fold it up every morning... sigh...&lt;br /&gt;English Lass can't even get to the barn on time ANYTIME. It's so frustrating. So I do most of the work just because I want to be done before five. These ten hour days are going to kill me. I would rather get the work done early all at once and then taking a break the rest of the evening.&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/5110027227122884689-9114937422727724290?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/9114937422727724290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/venting-week-1-of-new-job.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/9114937422727724290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/9114937422727724290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/venting-week-1-of-new-job.html' title='Venting: Week 1 of New Job'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-7331501516454004206</id><published>2008-01-10T18:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T23:24:56.915-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stressed'/><title type='text'>Heavy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/R4bTXbRJopI/AAAAAAAAAEI/mgONJekrHBI/s1600-h/Heavy_Home_III_by_er0k.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154039222982255250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/R4bTXbRJopI/AAAAAAAAAEI/mgONJekrHBI/s320/Heavy_Home_III_by_er0k.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm so exhausted from working ten hour days nonstop for the last four days.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I can't wait until my body gets used to this life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've reached the point of exhaustion where everything threatens to make me cry.  All my limbs feels about ten pounds heavier than they should be.  And yet, I can't relax enough to fall asleep when I do get a break.  And we're leaving for a show tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;God save me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-7331501516454004206?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/7331501516454004206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/heavy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7331501516454004206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7331501516454004206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/heavy.html' title='Heavy'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/R4bTXbRJopI/AAAAAAAAAEI/mgONJekrHBI/s72-c/Heavy_Home_III_by_er0k.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-8422785197180151476</id><published>2008-01-08T18:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T23:24:56.915-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GrowingUp'/><title type='text'>Moved</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs14/f/2007/064/9/8/Memento_Mori_by_Raccoon_with_a_cigar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs14/f/2007/064/9/8/Memento_Mori_by_Raccoon_with_a_cigar.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I'm all moved in my cozy little one room apartment.  It's super tiny but its a space all my own.  Tacky covers and all.  Now if I could just get internet... I will soon.  Hopefully...&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this is a super short post on my workmates computer since she has internet.  and a slightly larger apartment with a real stove. Not that I'm jealous or anything.  And I'm not actually.  Except for the internet.&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/5110027227122884689-8422785197180151476?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/8422785197180151476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/moved.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8422785197180151476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8422785197180151476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/moved.html' title='Moved'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-5317514746064681054</id><published>2008-01-04T07:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:26:17.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving Up and Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fc04.deviantart.com/images2/i/2004/02/5/2/War.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://fc04.deviantart.com/images2/i/2004/02/5/2/War.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm leaving tomorrow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My car is almost packed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Seriously, there are suitcases and boxes lining the roof of my car. I just hope I don't have to make any sudden stops or all my stuff will fly from the back of my car to crash into the back of my head .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-5317514746064681054?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/5317514746064681054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/moving-up-and-out.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5317514746064681054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/5317514746064681054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2008/01/moving-up-and-out.html' title='Moving Up and Out'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-248485444966722838</id><published>2007-12-28T17:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:25:13.852-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GrowingUp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><title type='text'>Resolved</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SWgwcSHGZXI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/TG3BTlZATpw/s1600-h/2008_11140044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289531024802735474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SWgwcSHGZXI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/TG3BTlZATpw/s320/2008_11140044.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So I'm spending the rest of my holidays with friends and the boy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's a new year soon and hopefully a new party in a new place and job.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In just over a week, I will be pulling out my roots and re potting myself in Georgia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Because of such I'm breaking the tradition of not making resolutions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In this new year, I want to...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Eat healthier. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm not a wanna be health nut. I still plan on eating ice cream every time I feel like it. I am still of the opinion that I can justify anything. Ice cream &lt;em&gt;does&lt;/em&gt; have calcium after all. But I also realise that eating nothing all day except six oranges and half a bag of chips is not all that helpful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Smile more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm told I have a beautiful smile. Although I'm still doubtful that there is little about it that is all that special except that I tend to pull it out more than most. This past year has been kind of rough for multiple reasons and my smile hasn't been out as often as it use to. There's always a bright side. I believe in the power of a smile and a kind word. I can change the world with just that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Keep in touch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have this horrible habit of letting good friends fall by the wayside. If they don't keep track of me, I don't find the time to keep track of them. The one promise I break the most is the one where I promise to keep in touch. Lost friendships because of lack of effort hurt the most. I'm not going to give up on people anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Love more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;'Nuff Said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-248485444966722838?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/248485444966722838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/12/resolved.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/248485444966722838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/248485444966722838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/12/resolved.html' title='Resolved'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vCH6Bth5vLo/SWgwcSHGZXI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/TG3BTlZATpw/s72-c/2008_11140044.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-9119369318639540236</id><published>2007-12-26T23:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:18:58.769-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gushing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Infallacies of Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>Wrapped Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs6/i/2005/095/d/5/wrapped_by_jpgoelz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs6/i/2005/095/d/5/wrapped_by_jpgoelz.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I woke up this morning wrapped up in M's arms.  I absolutely love that feeling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Best.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Christmas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nevermind several thousand awkward moments meeting his family for the first time. Yipes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hope you all got to spend Christmas with your loved ones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!&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/5110027227122884689-9119369318639540236?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/9119369318639540236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/12/wrapped-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/9119369318639540236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/9119369318639540236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/12/wrapped-up.html' title='Wrapped Up'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-138669984720479142</id><published>2007-12-22T18:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:18:58.770-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Art of Boy Stealing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Causing trouble'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Infallacies of Love'/><title type='text'>Mistake?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs15/f/2007/087/0/6/Daydreaming_II_by_TheTruthSeeker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs15/f/2007/087/0/6/Daydreaming_II_by_TheTruthSeeker.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It was just a kiss.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That's what I told him.  It didn't mean anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But when does a kiss really mean nothing?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Never.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This kiss was about a missed opportunity.  A crush that never quite made it through.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It was a promise that maybe someday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It was a lie that I never wanted anything more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The first was a gift.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The second...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;well that one was a wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-138669984720479142?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/138669984720479142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/12/mistake.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/138669984720479142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/138669984720479142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/12/mistake.html' title='Mistake?'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-8600993124033797350</id><published>2007-12-22T17:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:26:17.120-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GrowingUp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><title type='text'>A Big Girl Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs23/f/2007/349/b/1/b18f9f418588471a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs23/f/2007/349/b/1/b18f9f418588471a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So I've been way behind on keeping this thing up.  I'm going to try to be better but you know me... I always promise then end up giving up and starting all anew when I feel the ridiculous urge to write.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm a grown up now.  I've officially graduated college.  I even got that pretty little peice of paper in the mail yesterday to prove it.  It's got my name on it and everything.  I've been picked up by my collar and thrown out of a comfortable daily schedule of life into the real world when I have to figure out what to actually do with the rest of my life. College degree notwithstanding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've even landed a job.   In Georgia.  I leave in less than a month.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I get my own appartment and everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*booty shake*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm wearing the big girl panties now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-8600993124033797350?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/8600993124033797350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/12/big-girl-now.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8600993124033797350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8600993124033797350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/12/big-girl-now.html' title='A Big Girl Now'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-284749498728911469</id><published>2007-11-08T12:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:18:58.770-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Infallacies of Love'/><title type='text'>Problem that every girl thinks they want</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RzNxi8VtyOI/AAAAAAAAADg/-62bL48lXnQ/s1600-h/Respire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130569245631826146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RzNxi8VtyOI/AAAAAAAAADg/-62bL48lXnQ/s320/Respire.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do when you have several boys that say they are in love with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you have two very different men saying they will follow you where ever you go... to the ends of the earth if they must.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do when your heart aches to hurt one of them but by standing by doing nothing you know that somehow you are doing just that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart hurts, my head is worried. What a problem to have! Having boys follow you around pining. I don't want to be pined after. Shouldn't I be the one pining? I am the girl. I guess it goes both ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best friend wants to be that girl that a boy dreams of. that all he thinks about. that his heart aches for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I want that too. I just want it to be mutual. I wish I could love them both. But at this point, today I'm not sure I can love either of them. Not like they deserve. I'm just a girl. I'm not all that special. I mean, I'm unique. I'm powerful. I love. But... Surely I'm not what these men are looking for. I am not perfect. Far from it. But then... we all are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should talk it over with someone. I feel bad enough about the situation. How do I ask for advice when the problem I see I have just sounds conceited? That I'm full of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh* Perhaps I'm just not ready to be in love...&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/5110027227122884689-284749498728911469?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/284749498728911469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/11/problem-that-every-girl-thinks-they.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/284749498728911469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/284749498728911469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/11/problem-that-every-girl-thinks-they.html' title='Problem that every girl thinks they want'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RzNxi8VtyOI/AAAAAAAAADg/-62bL48lXnQ/s72-c/Respire.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-7405279092010009446</id><published>2007-11-08T12:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:18:58.771-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fabulousness of Being Female'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thinking'/><title type='text'>Being Female</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RzNu4MVtyNI/AAAAAAAAADY/9kuU40MAEC4/s1600-h/lockstock_mermaid12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130566312169162962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RzNu4MVtyNI/AAAAAAAAADY/9kuU40MAEC4/s320/lockstock_mermaid12.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Girls are spectacular creatures. I should know, I am one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've tried denying it for a long time. And I still do from time to time. I've always resisted all those qualities in women that drive me up the wall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know. I rather feel like embracing it all. It seems like that is the only way I can be satisfied with myself. Why am I fighting what I am? I can manage those things I view as faults.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's ok to cry, sometimes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-7405279092010009446?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/7405279092010009446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/11/being-female.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7405279092010009446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7405279092010009446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/11/being-female.html' title='Being Female'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RzNu4MVtyNI/AAAAAAAAADY/9kuU40MAEC4/s72-c/lockstock_mermaid12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-360805140658777356</id><published>2007-10-06T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T23:24:56.915-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><title type='text'>Troubles</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RwhpuNwUkcI/AAAAAAAAADQ/lK-NKRkuAqE/s1600-h/Jeans.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118457219193803202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RwhpuNwUkcI/AAAAAAAAADQ/lK-NKRkuAqE/s320/Jeans.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So I'm single these days. Well for all intentional purposes for me. We have revised the break up to be just a break. I don't know what to do. I can't make just a clean break of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I still love him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's just not him I see myself spending the rest of my life with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wish I did because this would be a lot easier. I want something better. I want a diamond not a ruby - though both are precious. One is better for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hope.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I just don't want to hurt anyone else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I know I'm sounding very scatterbrained and vague. It's because I don't really know what is going on, what I want and what I don't want. I'm just so tired of feeling this way. I'm tired of everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tonight, K put his hand on my back softly as he was passing. It seemed to stay there longer than it should have. I took comfort from it and wished for more. Not really from him of course. He's my boss and a cheating SOB to boot. I just miss that soft touch of someone caring.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I want a kiss. a fleeting simple soft kiss.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I want a hug. a long warm comforting hug.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-360805140658777356?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/360805140658777356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/10/troubles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/360805140658777356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/360805140658777356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/10/troubles.html' title='Troubles'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RwhpuNwUkcI/AAAAAAAAADQ/lK-NKRkuAqE/s72-c/Jeans.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6017811166124139956</id><published>2007-10-06T00:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T22:46:06.204-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stressed'/><title type='text'>I'm Tired...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RwdBbNwUkbI/AAAAAAAAADI/kodirt3wlmY/s1600-h/fields_of_innocence_by_Princess_of_Shadows.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118131437334466994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RwdBbNwUkbI/AAAAAAAAADI/kodirt3wlmY/s320/fields_of_innocence_by_Princess_of_Shadows.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm tired of the bar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm tired of the drunk boys at the bar that just like to watch me shake my ass.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm tired of the drunk boys who want my number and then never use it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm tired of people quitting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm tired of people not following through with their promises.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm tired of being tired.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm just tired.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to curl up in someone's arms and fall asleep before they do.  I want someone to let me relax for just a minute.  I want a hot bath and a back rub.  I want someone to care enough to let me need them instead of the other way around for once.  I need to cry in someone's presence and be comforted without them succumbing to tears as well.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RwdBKNwUkaI/AAAAAAAAADA/_X293zzMu5k/s1600-h/nothing.gif"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/5110027227122884689-6017811166124139956?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6017811166124139956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-tired.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6017811166124139956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6017811166124139956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-tired.html' title='I&amp;#39;m Tired...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RwdBbNwUkbI/AAAAAAAAADI/kodirt3wlmY/s72-c/fields_of_innocence_by_Princess_of_Shadows.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6526289778168013507</id><published>2007-08-20T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:18:58.771-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Infallacies of Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><title type='text'>Looking for Something More</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://tn3-2.deviantart.com/fs9/300W/i/2006/074/7/5/A_Broken_Heart_by_TheWuper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://tn3-2.deviantart.com/fs9/300W/i/2006/074/7/5/A_Broken_Heart_by_TheWuper.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He's near perfect. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But somehow its not enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He loves me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I just wish my love could match his.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Because then I wouldn't break his heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I look at flowers in the store and wonder why he never brought me any.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's probably the only thing he didn't do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I reread the old texts he send me. Romantic in nature, I should be swooning. And indeed I do. But somehow its not enough. It's been going on two years and I feel like I'm wasting, and settling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've been thinking on it for months. It just took one conversation with a friend to tell me, I've been lying to myself. And, ultimately, to him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's all left me looking for...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;something more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's just not right. For me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm going to have to let him go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's going to break my heart to break his.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-6526289778168013507?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6526289778168013507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/08/looking-for-something-more.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6526289778168013507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6526289778168013507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/08/looking-for-something-more.html' title='Looking for Something More'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-7834836308969228058</id><published>2007-07-09T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:18:58.772-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://tn3-2.deviantart.com/fs6/300W/i/2005/095/a/8/a_day_without_rain_by_ssilence.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://tn3-2.deviantart.com/fs6/300W/i/2005/095/a/8/a_day_without_rain_by_ssilence.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the sound the rain makes as it falls. Its is even so much better when you are out in it, feeling it hit your skin, hear it drop from dangling tree leaves, and tasting it on your lips. I makes me feel clean - its like crying but without the red eyes and runny nose - so refreshing and comforting. It fills my soul with peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing to make it better would be either having my camp staff with me.&lt;br /&gt;Or M...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Lord, how I miss him so far away.&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/5110027227122884689-7834836308969228058?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/7834836308969228058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-love-sound-rain-makes-as-it-falls.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7834836308969228058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7834836308969228058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-love-sound-rain-makes-as-it-falls.html' title=''/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-8709852777833033982</id><published>2007-05-26T11:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T23:24:56.915-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day Job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Uglies'/><title type='text'>Trying for another home away from home</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs18/i/2007/146/1/e/____like_a_voiceless_poem_by_foureyes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://fc01.deviantart.com/fs18/i/2007/146/1/e/____like_a_voiceless_poem_by_foureyes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm away with people I don't know typing away on a keyboard unfamiliar with its stiff keys and uncomfortable sound. It's so different. I miss my terabithia desparately. My only consilation is that it's not gone forever. Or at least so they tell me. My greatest fear is that it is and no one will know the love I found for that place as I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I try, this place doesn't hold its arms out waiting for me to once again surround myself by the wind in the trees, the hoofbeats in a dusty corral in the afternoon heat, and the cries of girls I've watched grow from daisy to caddette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mourn at its almost loss that I fear will disappear before my eyes.&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/5110027227122884689-8709852777833033982?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/8709852777833033982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/05/trying-for-another-home-away-from-home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8709852777833033982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/8709852777833033982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/05/trying-for-another-home-away-from-home.html' title='Trying for another home away from home'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-6168254908535130409</id><published>2007-05-02T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T22:33:40.122-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So near...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RjlmxZ2lKtI/AAAAAAAAACo/mULuLohKSDY/s1600-h/The_Edge_of_the_World_by_Candid_Ishida.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060188655266900690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RjlmxZ2lKtI/AAAAAAAAACo/mULuLohKSDY/s320/The_Edge_of_the_World_by_Candid_Ishida.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's almost over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Just one more time to prove myself worthy of the grade and then I'm done until next time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm almost there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Then on to what?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That I cannot be exactly sure of, but that's ok. That's life. and that's exactly why I love life so much. For the mystery. For the adventure of simply not knowing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But its not exactly easy, this not knowing thing. But I think I can do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-6168254908535130409?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/6168254908535130409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/05/so-near.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6168254908535130409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/6168254908535130409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/05/so-near.html' title='So near...'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RjlmxZ2lKtI/AAAAAAAAACo/mULuLohKSDY/s72-c/The_Edge_of_the_World_by_Candid_Ishida.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-7384985632261256613</id><published>2007-04-30T19:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T22:33:40.123-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Infallacies of Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>Diamond Fool</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RjajQZ2lKsI/AAAAAAAAACg/BYUc2QQwPDI/s1600-h/empty+bed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059410733610379970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RjajQZ2lKsI/AAAAAAAAACg/BYUc2QQwPDI/s320/empty+bed.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;How do you tell someone that you love them and yet not love them at the same time?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My heart hurts that I even write this because I wish it wasn't true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He says I am the one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;But I am not so confident.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He asks me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;I say yes, but don't know why.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wish I knew what love felt like. I thought I knew, but it wasn't this, not exactly. I guess it's different. I am too young. Too inexperienced to know what I hold is precious.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And worst of all, I yearn for something different and I don't know why. I feel trapped. I haven't had time to see it all yet. I haven't had my heart broken... I don't even know if it can be broken. I feel so calloused to things sometimes. I do know that I have the power to break his and I desparately don't want to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But I need some freedom. Freedom to do what? I don't know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Flirt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Let my hair down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Be a fool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He lets me be who I need to be. He trusts me. He depends on me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;How much more do I need?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He loves me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Maybe too much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Is that possible? To be loved too much?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I keep ignoring myself when I think about this. I wish there was someone to tell me if I was just being crazy or not. It takes a lot out of me just to admit this much.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Why can't I be happy with a ruby instead of a diamond?  I never cared much for diamonds anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I know what I have is precious.  I know that I shouldn't want to give it up.  I know it will kill him if I do and I don't want that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;God, I don't want that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I do love him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I just don't know about the rest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-7384985632261256613?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/7384985632261256613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/04/diamond-fool.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7384985632261256613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/7384985632261256613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/04/diamond-fool.html' title='Diamond Fool'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RjajQZ2lKsI/AAAAAAAAACg/BYUc2QQwPDI/s72-c/empty+bed.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5110027227122884689.post-3975232756566514260</id><published>2007-04-30T18:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:18:58.772-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life as I know It'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loneliness'/><title type='text'>Silence</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RjafqZ2lKrI/AAAAAAAAACY/w7qLPtdZhjU/s1600-h/last_day_of_spring_by_bubble_gum_heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059406782240467634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RjafqZ2lKrI/AAAAAAAAACY/w7qLPtdZhjU/s320/last_day_of_spring_by_bubble_gum_heart.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's funny that yesterday, after all the excitement of friends laughter and a rowdy night, I was suddenly hit with a rush of being alone. The quiet wasn't soothing and I longed for someone to be there. I tried to console myself with a few phone calls but that didn't quite get it for I really had little to say. I was hoping for the person on the other end of the line to say that one thing I needed to hear, though I didn't quite know what it was. And now, this evening, quiet seems to be exactly what I need. Time to myself with just the sound of the wind blowing in my window, fluttering my curtains.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have accomplished just about everything I need to for the rest of this semester. I should be at least a little satisfied with myself but, oddly, I am not. I feel a bit like a vacant hole that wishes to remain vacant. I feel that the silence is the most comforting things right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My terabithian dream didn't happen this summer. They closed my special place this year, quite possibly never to open again, though I refuse to believe it. Thus, I have a new adventure this summer that will hopefully grant me the same feeling my Terabithia has done for the past eleven years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5110027227122884689-3975232756566514260?l=wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/feeds/3975232756566514260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/04/silence.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3975232756566514260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5110027227122884689/posts/default/3975232756566514260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wranglersforceofwill.blogspot.com/2007/04/silence.html' title='Silence'/><author><name>Wrangler</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vKZAihkDl5g/TYZ8_orKHGI/AAAAAAAABLY/1HZvx5MFEkE/s220/Oct10-Mar11%2B109.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iOwF-V-vHe0/RjafqZ2lKrI/AAAAAAAAACY/w7qLPtdZhjU/s72-c/last_day_of_spring_by_bubble_gum_heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
