<?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-4806250863629441056</id><updated>2011-07-29T00:18:17.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Could I Have Been Anyone Other Than Me?</title><subtitle type='html'>Dance with me...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-7511911753726292032</id><published>2011-03-10T18:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T18:13:21.916-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good JuJu in the Air</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;No particular reason to be blogging tonight... Complete randomness.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Right now I'm relaxing on my back patio... Whiskey and Jimi keep me swinging. The desert isn't so bad tonight considering it was 85 degrees and sunny today. Ugh. The sun has set but it is not quite dark... and of course I've got DMB quietly dancing in my ears. Needless to say, it's pretty nice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Today was a great day at work and I've not been able to say that for quite some time. No one bothered me, I took a Xanax (or two), sat in the mailroom alone with my ipod. Chatted with a good friend all day over text... a friend who makes me smile a LOT. I am blessed to have him in my life because even though we've not met in person, we have some of the greatest conversations.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;The friend I am moving to Nola with is swinging by in a few minutes. Really looking forward to it... she gives me great energy and I'm always down for adding to any and all good juju. I can't stop thinking about my Nola/Vodou inspired tattoo... Once I get it I will definitely post photos. It's funny how my tats allow people to read my life like a book. Each one tells a story about who I am and how I became to be this person. This one is going in a spot I have been saving for that ONE major turning point in life... and Nola is definitely it. How cool to be blessed to say that. My life has been pretty fuckin.... FUCKED, but it's the moments like this that remind me why I keep going.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;"The space between the tears we cry is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Right on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;I hope someone out there is having as chill of a night as I am...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Peace... literally. :o)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&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/4806250863629441056-7511911753726292032?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/7511911753726292032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/good-juju-in-air.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/7511911753726292032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/7511911753726292032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/good-juju-in-air.html' title='Good JuJu in the Air'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-2415560843486396509</id><published>2011-03-07T14:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T14:55:42.179-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching up on Nothing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Oye… SO much going on! Ups and downs, sideways and frontways… good grief, what a roller coaster ride I am living right now! Feels good after a whole BUNCH of numbness. My partner and I have been talking more and more as the days go by… HEALTHY talking, which in a way irritates me because it took 6 years and my moving away for him to open up to me. Guess that’s the way it goes though. He told me the other day it feels good to “court” me again with a new, enlightened state of mind. We’re still living together until the lease is up and are just enjoying life until the move day comes. After that we probably won’t speak much, seems like he’s accepting the fact that we might not ever be together again – BUT he is still open to the possibility we might… which is all I ask. Just be open to the Universe and fate… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Every day I find more and more beautiful, AMAZING places in the Quarter and Garden District to live. OMG and guess what?!?! I bought a ticket to the New Orleans Witches Ball on October 29th. It’s a ball gown-formal masquerade ball in the Garden District… Just writing that gives me chills. I can’t believe I am going to this and when it ends at 1am, I can WALK home in my costume! I’ve got a beautiful, floor length witch gown I had made special for me last year…. Gonna wear that with one of my EPIC witch hats (I’ve got about a ton, so I’ll have to see what mood I’m in that night. lol). Gawwwwwd so excited. I’m already making friends through the net with locals – connections connections. Lol I am SO ready to get started.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;On a bit more glum level – My family is STILL fighting … I can’t wait to get away from the depth of their drama. Ahhh big, Sicilian family’s are SUCH a pain. One of my brothers (who I think is back on Meth) moved one street up from me, so last night I’m sitting on the couch – in a LOT of pain – and I hear my sisters obnoxious voice hollering through the neighborhood… pig-calling me. You know – the whole… SUEY!!!!!! Uh huh. YEAH. I get up and go to the back yard, there’s my sister and brother looking over the wall asking if I would come do shots with them. When I told them to shut the hell up (because it’s about 10pm on a Sunday night), sister asks, “Why aren’t you being friendly?!?!” I was so irritated, as I have been trying to get a hold of her for a few weeks now and last I heard she and my brother were fighting like crazy - suddenly they’re in my back yard yelling, drunk and rolling on God knows what. Ugh. lol Really they like it when I hang out so I can listen to them talk shit about our other siblings and what a shitty job my father is doing as a Dad – which for the record, I disagree. My dad is doing the best he can with the cards he’s been dealt. Anyways – I chose to NOT be involved with the family shit and by NOT being involved – I am the MOST involved. If that makes sense. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Geeze, ramble! Lol sorry… All this week I have to work 10 hour days… which SUCKS because I sit in a cubicle. UGH lame lame lame. It’s kinda funny though… you walk to my desk and the walls are filled with pictures of Nola, Dave Matthews Band, LOL Catz and trees. I’ve got shit everywhere –dead flowers, Office Space movie memorabilia, weird WWII photos, my shoes off and feet up. And it always smells like Essential oils because I dump some on my floor every morning. And I’m always wearing my sunglasses because I loathe the neon lights. Not that this is at ALL relevant to anything… I’m just rambling still. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;On that note… I’ll stop and get back to work. Lol Thanks for listening to a whole lot of nothing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Love you all, is it April yet???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-2415560843486396509?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/2415560843486396509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/catching-up-on-nothing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/2415560843486396509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/2415560843486396509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/catching-up-on-nothing.html' title='Catching up on Nothing'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-8601147148649643886</id><published>2011-03-05T08:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:34:47.675-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So Much to Say...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;(dated incorrectly. Updated from another blog site)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;I could go for hours. lol So much to say, indeed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;I'm thinking that the nola move will need to be moved up. Maybe June? The only reason I'm staying here so long is it seems to be the "responsible" thing to do. Maybe for once I need to be irresponsible and just go for it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;Have you ever had a fantasy that is SO captivating, it consumes your every thought? A passion for something that is so strong, you want nothing more than to fulfill and devour it? Yeah, me too. lol Sometimes it's frustrating to "feel" that much, because when you realize it is actually just a *fantasy,* you are heartbroken. Accck.... wish I could just float through life like a drone. So many people out there are satisfied with the mediocre and usual. Life would be so simple if I could just settle... I guess that's not a good thing to wish for... are those people REALLY happy? Probably not. Guess the grass always seems greener on the other side. Again - I wish I could paint my life the way I want it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;If you could pick one song to sum you up... which would it be? Mine would be Grey Street (by DMB, of course. lol). "She feels like kicking out all the windows and setting fire to this life... she would change everything about her using colors that are bold and bright, but all the colors mix together to Grey... and it breaks her heart." Ooooo listen to me... the sappy poet. There I go feeling too much again. LOL What's funny is I crave "feeling." When I was on meds, they did nothing but numb my body and mind... and I *loathed* it. I wanted to throw a brick in my own face just to get SOME kind of reaction from myself. That's why I quit them all cold turkey - talk about a rough week!! I've been on it all.. from Xanax to Paxil. From Percocet to Morphine. But I find that cannabis works WAY better. Kill the whole flock with one stone. Speaking of... I really REALLY wish I could smoke here at work. lol SO bad of me... since my job is a branch of "law enforcement." What the fuck ever dude... its a plant. lol Don't get me started on that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;Rambling again. Thinking out loud. Thanks to whoever is STILL reading this. lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;I want to be stimulated. I want something and someone who will light my interest every day. Don't know if that's a naive thing to wish for too, but either way - it's what I want. I LOVE to be surprised. lol Not just gifts or crap like that (I'm definitely NOT a diamonds type girl)... just, surprised in life I guess. I hate being bored. But it's seems simple enough with me because most of the time, just relaxing and listening to music is enough to keep me busy. lol I feel like I'm screaming at everyone in my life to just GET it, but no one does.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;Anyways - I should stop here before I get carried away and end up writing you a novel about pointless sh*t. lol Thanks again for reading.... After my last blog, I realized how good it felt to get the random clutter out of my head.. so I decided to write you #2. Expect 3,4, and 5 soon. hahaha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"&gt;Peace, friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-8601147148649643886?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/8601147148649643886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/so-much-to-say.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/8601147148649643886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/8601147148649643886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/so-much-to-say.html' title='So Much to Say...'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-6577116439746692717</id><published>2011-03-05T08:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:31:38.903-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The random mind of VS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;(dated incorrectly. Updated from another blog site)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;Just as the title says: Random. More venting... blabbing. lol Just looking to get it out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;My partner and I have been talking more and more about my move - which is a great thing because we've never communicated very well. He's so quiet, so collected and I'm the complete opposite. If I'm feeling something? Here, let me barf it in your lap. lol - Though I know this trip is what needs to happen, he told me the other night that he doesn't want me to contact him once I leave; which of *course* I will respect. It stings because I knew this would be a high possibility - he and I never speaking again. That was one of the risks I was willing to take with following my dream... guess when it really happens though, it hurts more than you thought it would. He did say that he will never be angry at me for choosing to do this because he knows if he's mad, it will ruin the experience for me. And he loves me too much to do that. UGH that alone makes me respect him all the more, which in return makes it all the more difficult to do this. I know I need to though, it just flat out is what it is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;I'm really looking forward to being in an environment where it's okay to be a little... "eccentric." My whole life I've been seeking acceptance. Well, not exactly the right word for it... because I've always done what I will and am who I am, regardless of what people around me think. But it does get heavy when you are constantly being judged and told you are "doing it all wrong." I get tired of telling people, "It's just who I am... can't you just love me for THAT?" Should I really HAVE to say that all the time? lol I want friends and people who like the strange and usual... and who like PEOPLE who like the strange and unusual. lol Ugh is it April yet??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;It's the waiting that is killing me.... I wish tomorrow was April 29th so I could get to nola for Jazzfest, look at places for rent and jobs, then come home to pack and leave. The waiting is the biggest test of all.... it's the waiting that gives me time to think and evaluate all those familiar feelings that have kept me from doing this in the past. I just can't let it run me over this time... so far I'm very proud of myself for sticking to it. Just have to STAY strong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;Speaking of - do you ever get tired of being "strong?" I do. A LOT. Seems like life has been this one giant clusterfuck for me to survive... people like me make good poets. LOL I don't know.... we all have our own purposes, our own meanings and I envy those who actually know their reason for living. Hell.. maybe there ISN'T a reason to it at all, huh. Maybe we really are just here to breathe. I hope not though... I would like to think it's all got a reason. Maybe that's the dreamer in me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;Random - but I think movies totally ruin life for us. LOL! Get us thinking things could be like a fantasy - that the perfect man is out there. The perfect place. The perfect life. And movies are SO diverse, that each of our "fantasies" are played out in one way, shape or form. I wish I could just paint my life the way I want it.... using colors that are "bold and bright." I'd paint me a lovely home in NOLA (which I'm actually painting right now)... with a perfect garden. While I'm dreaming - I'll go ahead and paint me a man who dresses the way I want and listens to the music I want and says the things I want and plays an instrument and will sing to/with me and has the haircut I want and the moves I want....And.. and... and...! Dream on, right? hahahha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;Oye - See again what I mean when I say "My head won't leave my head alone?" LOL Crap like this is what I constantly daydream about. Wouldn't it be lovely to just be relaxing in a garden right now with some good tunes, some good smoke, some good company, some good weather? Then I wake up and am back to reality - bahhhh. I hope New Orleans is everything I expect it to be. And if it's not, at least I tried, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;Anyways - I'm totally rambling now.... another useless thing I'm good at. lol Got to go.. break at work is up. Back to my cubicle and TPS reports.... and yes, I got the memo. Mmmmmkay?Hooray.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span maiandra="" style="font-size: 11pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&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/4806250863629441056-6577116439746692717?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/6577116439746692717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/random-mind-of-vs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/6577116439746692717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/6577116439746692717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/random-mind-of-vs.html' title='The random mind of VS'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-6150756322162608929</id><published>2011-03-05T08:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:27:49.243-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a check...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;(dated incorrectly. Updated from a previous blog site)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;Having a great night in the midst of a bunch of chaos. Just wanted to remind everyone that the little things in life are *so* important.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;Making a mental note of that myself. lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;Eat, Drink, and Be Merry my friends, for tomorrow we die...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-6150756322162608929?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/6150756322162608929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/just-check.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/6150756322162608929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/6150756322162608929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/just-check.html' title='Just a check...'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-5365068007861861320</id><published>2011-03-05T08:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:26:45.141-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving myself crazy.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;Dated incorrectly. This was uploaded from a previous blogging site...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;Forgive the randomness of the following... I need to write in my journal and I can't seem to find a single fucking pen in my house right now. I have no idea what's going to come out in the following... so just know I'm not seeking salvation, just a release I s'pose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;I wish I could shake this heavy feeling in my chest.... I know I do it to myself by over-thinking the sh*t going on in my life. Why is it that during your hardest times, allllllll the horrors of your past come creeping up? All these emotional roller coasters I'm riding in sequence are SO intense, I wish I could just switch it off. Maybe I just need to smoke a few more bowls.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;Being a "realist" sucks, man. Because you KNOW you've got issues, but you're "thinking too straight" to deal with it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;My whole life has been a constant, DRAMATIC change. I know everyone's life is ever changing... but when mine changes, it changes like a brick to the face. SMACK... guess what Sue, life is going to be totally different for you. Everything and everyone important to you who you *thought* you could count on.. you can't. The only constant thing in my life (since my teen years).. has been Dave Matthews Band. I've always been connected to music in a way most people are not fortunate enough to be, so to listen to a song and really feeling it in my aching heart means everything to me. It means no matter WHAT, I can slap on some DMB and they'll soothe my soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;I'm learning through all of this change right now, that my Mom's death impacted me a lot more than I thought it did. I mean.. it was by far the WORST experience of my life and obviously I will have issues walking out of something like that... having to pick my mothers casket and tombstone by MYSELF (at the age of 17), because the rest of my family "couldn't deal with it?" Yeah.. that cut pretty deep. But like every other traumatic event, I've convinced myself that "Yeah it happened. Yeah it sucks and they were mother fuckers for doing that to me... but it made me a stronger person, and if I can handle THAT I can handle anything." Evaluating - can I *really* handle that? For years I've been answering with "yes." But moments like this when life gets really difficult, I find myself going back to those kinds of things and really feeling......... well, sadness. It makes me sad, just how everything turned out. I don't "hate" much in life... but I fucking HATE that she is gone. I feel so robbed and so alone. All the time I hear girlfriends saying, "Oh I have to call my mom tonight..." or, "My mom is going to help me pick out my wedding dress!!" Simple things like that always are little stabs.. Yeah well... I don't get that. Plain and simple. And I *know* it was meant to happen this way... I KNOW I am blessed in many other ways. I know it could *always* be worse. I know my mother is in a much better place than you or I could dream of, It all just sucks I guess. Sucks bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;This New Orleans adventure is going to be a BIG opening for me. Even through all the heartache of it all... so many cool things are happening. I'm meeting great new people and learning what really holds me back in life. I just can't wait to be over this part..... the part of really starting to realize who I am. To be honest it kind of scares me..lol. I've done some things in my past that I would never share with anyone... things that are... uh... not so good, and I don't know if I want to revisit that part of me. In a lot of ways I know myself extremely well, I am confident and secure. Underneath it all, I am a tortured soul just trying to keep it's head above water. I know a whole lot about nothing. haha Guess that's the way it goes for all of us, huh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;In a lot of ways, I guess since Mom died I've been waiting for someone to take my hand and help me out a bit. We hear songs about it... so I know it's possible. Lyrics come from the writers heart... and sometimes I hear certain songs and think, "fuck man... I want THAT." haha Everyone wants what someone else has.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"&gt;Well like I said, I have NO idea where this began or ends... I was just typing to get it out. Right now I'm frustrated. I'm upset. I'm scared. I'm sad. I'm floating. End of story. lol&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/4806250863629441056-5365068007861861320?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/5365068007861861320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/driving-myself-crazy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/5365068007861861320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/5365068007861861320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/driving-myself-crazy.html' title='Driving myself crazy.'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-5658543446460351275</id><published>2011-03-05T08:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:19:38.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Orleans, Home.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;SO much has happened since I last blogged. Just going to be blunt...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;I am moving to New Orleans... biggest decision of my LIFE and I'm gonna do it. I've always wanted to but never have had the guts and I've spent these past few weeks/months really looking at myself and what I need. Turns out you cannot depend on another person to make you happy.. you have to do it yourself. It's funny because I'm so good at giving that advice to other people but have never really evaluated myself to see if I'm practicing what I preach. Guess not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to leave my partner.. he's the only reason I've stayed in this desert prison for so long. He doesn't want to move to a place like nola and it wouldn't be fair for me to expect him to follow this crazy ass dream. But it's to the point now where I will cheat myself if I go my WHOLE life and never try something I truly want to do for ME. He's being supportive, though he doesn't want me to go. I have absolute faith he and I will be together again... though I know that's what everyone says in this kind of situation. We both are willing to accept the possibility that we may never be together again, but we both are not going to dismiss what we’ve built just because I need to discover myself. I cannot wait to be in a place like nola and know I am there for nothing other than MYSELF. Really give myself a chance to search my soul. Mom's not here anymore, you know? She was the only family who I was really close to and now she’s dead… What have I got to lose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows.. I may go out there and only want to stay 1 year. I may never leave. I've no idea what's in store other than I'm going to live in either the French Quarter or Garden District (both have some fantastic places for rent.. I will check them out when I go in April). Getting a job waitressing or bartending on Bourbon Street will be easy as pie as I was a successful bartender for 6 years.. and with a wild imagination like mine I can *totally* rack up tips just by being myself. And I am TOTALLY going to street perform. haha Some people there make a nice living off just dressing up and playing with tourists. I can't wait to wearmy voodoo doll costume and collect tips for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haven't told the family yet. I want to wait until I have a little more set up before I do.. I’m going to get so many doubts, so many “you’re still chasing a little girls dream, Sue? Grow up.” I don’t care… I feel it in my soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I go it won't be until a bit later in the year.. have a lot of saving to do. I am moving with my best friend who is from Baton Rouge and has family all over the state, they all have offered to help us in anyways we need. So I'll be there with someone who grew up in the area and has plenty of support....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's really crazy is I have been praying that the Universe give me any possible signs it can spare... please, show me what to do!! Every single day I get more and more signs that point towards this. It's so ridiculous that ignoring them would be an insult to whoever’s watching. When Mom died, Lord knows I asked for signs left and right and didn't receive a single one... for the first time ever I’m getting them thrown at me like bugs against a windshield. I feel like every event in my life has lead up to THIS moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is going to be an amazing, life changing experience.. I'm excited and SO terrified at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, I'll only be 10hrs away from my brother. I talked to him about it yesterday and he is SO stoked. He can't wait to come stay with me during Mardi Gras. OMG I'm going to live IN Mardi Gras! ahhhh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so overwhelmed. So terrified. SO READY.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;                &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-5658543446460351275?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/5658543446460351275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-orleans-home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/5658543446460351275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/5658543446460351275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-orleans-home.html' title='New Orleans, Home.'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-2991181376713256243</id><published>2009-05-25T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:09:29.332-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Another Day...</title><content type='html'>Reading over my previous posts... it would seem I am a pretty Morose person. Yeah, I guess that's right from time to time, but not always.... just so you know. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I feel very blank. Like the lights are on, you know, but no one is home. I even tried listening to music all morning and nothing seemed to light that fire. Funny the way it is, when you think about it.... I always have to look forward to something. If I don't, living seems like too much of a chore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me clarify I have NO thoughts of suicide whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just thinking on computer, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;s'pose&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, things in my life are looking up, actually. I just moved in with the greatest man I've ever known and our kitties are getting along famously. The new place is fantastic and I'm so glad he and I share similar taste in decor, as my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;preference&lt;/span&gt; tends to be slightly odd... with my post mortem pictures and voodoo masks. Thursday we will get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; set up which means free reign for World of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Warcraft&lt;/span&gt;!! STOKED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... I really have no idea why I'm writing today. Guess just needed a little window to the outside world, sitting here in my cubicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make the Best of What's Around....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-2991181376713256243?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/2991181376713256243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/05/just-another-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/2991181376713256243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/2991181376713256243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/05/just-another-day.html' title='Just Another Day...'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-8265834370021304939</id><published>2009-05-01T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:07:17.775-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GrooGrux King</title><content type='html'>When my mother died, I felt a crack in my heart. When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;LeRoi&lt;/span&gt; died, I felt a crack in my soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read an article yesterday about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;DMB's&lt;/span&gt; new "get up." Butch Taylor, the pianist who's played with them for years, resigned not long ago and is being replaced by non other than Tim Reynolds himself. Crazy to think Tim is now officially a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;member&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;DMB&lt;/span&gt;. Crazy to think Butch Taylor is gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A young man by the name of Coffin is replacing Roi. I got to see him live last year and he is a phenomenal &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;saxophonist&lt;/span&gt;, but when I see him play I see sadness. All I can feel when I look at Coffin is that huge hole where &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;LeRoi&lt;/span&gt; should be. Like I said though, he is talent all around and I don't think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;DMB&lt;/span&gt; could have chosen a better replacement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/sigh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many changes. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;DMB&lt;/span&gt; has been the ONLY constant thing in my life... they are my family. Seeing them go through such hard times is very difficult for me. Dave said he really hopes the remaining members don't try to 'imitate' Roi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, with Roi and Butch being gone... I can't help but fear the worst. The day it is announced that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;DMB&lt;/span&gt; will be going &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;separate&lt;/span&gt; ways will be a heart breaking day indeed. lol Listen to me... going on like a crazy insane, stalker fan. haha hardly. Just passionate, I s'pose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They will never be the same, and it's completely understandable why. At least I had Roi's beautiful music for as long as I did and at least I know &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;DMB&lt;/span&gt; will &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; always be there for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing my soul change like this is kind of hard to take at times....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-8265834370021304939?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/8265834370021304939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/05/groogrux-king.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/8265834370021304939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/8265834370021304939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/05/groogrux-king.html' title='GrooGrux King'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-4541795166486686488</id><published>2009-04-14T19:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:06:04.374-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How I wish to be Mayfair</title><content type='html'>You know, I love World of Warcraft. Yes I am a nerd. &amp;nbsp;(prepare yourself for geeky WoW talk)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my character race is called a Draenei: an odd cross between a gargoyle and .... goat...? Sounds hideous but actually she's quite beautiful. With dark purple skin and dark red hair, she rocks the World of Warcraft. Mayfair (of the Mayfair Witches) is a mage, meaning I get to stand back and blast the hell out of enemies with my wicked cool spells. Have someone you'd like to turn into a sheep? I'm your girl. I can make potions for my guild or enchanted stones to enhance my play. I can port my party to any city I wish (instead of taking the ships or griffins), or whip you up some tasty Mana Strudles. Basically, in a nut shell, I rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Nerd!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The game is facinating, detailing down to the tiniest butterfly flying around a random forest. The cities are filled with everything from taverns to get your character wasted, to toy shops where you can buy a motorized gorilla. Alchemy shops and black markets (where I bought a KICK ASS ghostly skull who follows me around).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could rant and rave for hours about this.... not that you care. Then again,  you are reading the mindless blog of a stranger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you ever get a chance to play World of Warcraft, please do. It's a mind trip and will get you longing to live in this whimsical world.... of warcraft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/nerdydmbchick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-4541795166486686488?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/4541795166486686488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-i-wish-to-be-mayfair.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/4541795166486686488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/4541795166486686488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-i-wish-to-be-mayfair.html' title='How I wish to be Mayfair'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-484825362573220863</id><published>2009-03-25T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:08:30.439-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Southern Belle</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;, my heart is longing for the South so badly... I can even literally  taste the salt in the air. I've never lived there... only a few visits, but it's where my soul was born. I can't figure out, though, if its New Orleans or Savannah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always wanted to just pack my shit and go. Leave everything behind here in Arizona. Unfortunately I have severe ties to this state I cannot break just yet... but now more than ever I'm feeling the need to breathe Southern air again. I'm going to seriously start planning a trip in hopes that will satisfy my thirst for now, but I fear it won't quench it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For years I've lived a secret life in my mind that involves the life of a gypsy, you know, just picking up and leaving whenever the wind blows too hard. Working when I need money, sleeping when I need sleep. I don't know what's been stopping me. Fear? partially, but not entirely. I know I can do it... maybe it's a fear of leaving the familiar. No, no that's not it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And THIS is what I mean when I say - My head won't leave my head alone. I need to just shut up, close my eyes, and DO it. But there is so much I'd be leaving behind.... including some dear friends and an awesome partner. My family? eh, I can live without them for a while for sure. They're better loved from afar if you know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now I'll just keep surrounding myself with morbid pictures of Southern cemeteries and breath taking plantation homes. Send good energy my way, though, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good intentions to make the right choice at the right time....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-484825362573220863?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/484825362573220863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/03/southern-belle.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/484825362573220863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/484825362573220863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/03/southern-belle.html' title='Southern Belle'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-7361955305000781623</id><published>2009-03-23T11:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:02:52.916-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Office Space</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;My own personal living hell. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know rarely do we end up where we expect in life, but really? I was not meant for this. If you've seen the movie "Office Space," you have an idea of my life Monday - Thursday and Saturdays: 7am to 3:30pm. It's a not-so-cozy office in the North Valley, my work I will keep anonymous for reasons (again) I know you'd understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The office is full of stuck up women who don't smile, probably because they're afraid of actual HUMAN contact. A majority of them speak &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Romanian&lt;/span&gt;.... which is just what I want to hear all day long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my older sisters is the head executive of HR. I thought this would be extremely cool at first, until I realized she's no different at work than outside of it. She's controlling in her own, sick, sadistic way... and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; feels the need to try and fill my mothers void in this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, she and I have different mothers but my mother took care of her starting at an early age. Sister has had to live her entire life with everyone telling her which woman to call "Mom." This is not fair to her, I completely understand but my mother is gone and sister needs to accept she is never coming back. I'm 10 years younger than her and I've already got that down. Working with her means having her in my face constantly, trying to say and act the way she thinks Mom would. And believe you me, she is WAY off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I got a promotion. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; I didn't get it the way the main character in "Office Space" got his. I'm being thrown into this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;position&lt;/span&gt; for reasons I haven't quite figured out yet, but there is certainly an underlying issue here. I think it has to do with the fact I've been trying to transfer departments.... and they can't afford to loose the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;person ell&lt;/span&gt;. So hey, lets promote me and hope I stay. Forget the fact I have NO idea what I'm doing and when I ask for help my supervisors turn the other cheek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I need is the red stapler and a name tag that reads: Milton.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I hope one day I find my place in this world. THIS company certainly isn't it. I've made a few small friends here.... but honestly if I could leave tomorrow and never see any of these people again, I wouldn't loose any sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drag my ass in here 5 days a week, just to find I'm fighting nodding off for 8 hours a day. What a waste, huh? I totally know. It seems I've traded one prison for another. So why am I still here? Well, &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ffff99;"&gt;it's not where I need to be, but it's not where I used to be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just another stepping stone. But I am SO over this one. I'm praying the universe will send me the next phase in my life soon, because THIS is ridiculous.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-7361955305000781623?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/7361955305000781623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/03/office-space.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/7361955305000781623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/7361955305000781623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/03/office-space.html' title='Office Space'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-8165650754906672543</id><published>2009-03-20T16:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:00:33.304-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weedjle and Me</title><content type='html'>Hell yes. I buy it. I smoke it. I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's all I have to say about that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-8165650754906672543?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/8165650754906672543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/03/weedjle-and-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/8165650754906672543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/8165650754906672543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/03/weedjle-and-me.html' title='Weedjle and Me'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-3930517125903558081</id><published>2009-03-10T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:00:16.509-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where has all the music gone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;You know, it's so sad to me that more and more people are uneducated when it comes to music. I talked to someone today at work who doesn't know who The Doors, Led &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Zeppelin&lt;/span&gt;, Tom Petty, Dave Matthews, Janis Joplin, John Lennon, or Daniel &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Lanois&lt;/span&gt; are. Can you believe that? This guy is MY age. Granted, I'm only 26 and have the mind of a 45 year old, but still! How can you not know who JOHN LENNON was?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, music is becoming so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;obsolete&lt;/span&gt; and it makes me sad. =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend I went to the "Art of John Lennon" exhibit in Scottsdale, AZ. It was so amazing to see his handwriting right in front of my eyes. Framed (and on sale for over $5,000) was the lyrics to Imagine..... written by John himself on parchment. Just to be able I've say I've SEEN that in real life is such a blessing....why doesn't anyone understand that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A while ago I met a 15 year old boy who asked me, "Hey, do you know who Beethoven is and if SHE is still alive?"   &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;WHAAAAAT&lt;/span&gt;! 15 years old and he doesn't know who Beethoven was? No, he didn't know, but he talked for a fucking hour about "fox racing" and going to the sand dunes. What the HELL are our schools teaching these kids?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had more money I would help keep music and art in our schools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, I've never wanted children....but when I hear things like this I think, "well maybe I NEED to have a child just to put some hope back in our future."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You may call me a dreamer, but I'm not the only one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please help me by spreading the good music. PLEASE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-3930517125903558081?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/3930517125903558081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/03/where-has-all-music-gone.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/3930517125903558081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/3930517125903558081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/03/where-has-all-music-gone.html' title='Where has all the music gone?'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-7850749092425252251</id><published>2009-03-07T10:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T07:58:00.876-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No reason, No Rhyme</title><content type='html'>Today, I'm just writing as a journal entry. No reason, No &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;rhyme&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my lunch break at work. I sit around these 3 women who are from Romania and though they are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pleasant&lt;/span&gt; to talk to, these women drive me insane! They sit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;allllll&lt;/span&gt; day long talking a thousand miles a minute in Romanian and if I ask for help with anything they discuss it amongst themselves in their language... and instead of explaining the issue to me, they just give orders and walk away. Ahh my "Office Space" job...&amp;nbsp;I don't know if I've mentioned where I work; I have 2 jobs. This one, I will keep anonymous for reasons I know you'd understand. I am an entertainer at a topless club for job #2.  It's so weird.... 2 completely different lives I live... and I'm bored with both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I've decided I really don't want to dance anymore. I get so tired of pretending to care what my customers have to say.&amp;nbsp;It seems no one has anything interesting to say anymore. I can't stand what society dubs as "cool," you know? John Lennon, Dave Matthews, Janis Joplin.... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;THAT'S&lt;/span&gt; cool to me.  Books, movies, and spirituality....&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;THAT'S&lt;/span&gt; cool to me too. Not motorcycles, muscles, and who can drink the most beer.  Being a topless entertainer isn't as easy as one would think. It takes a lot of self control and patience....I'm loosing both. When I go to work, I find myself smoking on the patio all day to avoid the men that come in... which means I don't leave with much money anymore.  At least I'm not stuck, like some of the 30+ year old women I work with. I have an "out," but the economy is down so bad right now... being a single girl living on her own doesn't exactly mean an easy-does-it schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random....I told you, No Reason, No &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Rhyme&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I saw Coraline &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;last night&lt;/span&gt;. My buddy went with me... we got SUPER stoned before hand and let me tell you, if you get the opportunity to do this, please take it. That movie is insanely bizarre. I absolutely loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voices and "shadow people" I encounter are getting more and more intense as the days go on.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Last night&lt;/span&gt; a dear dear friend of mine was crying because she had just lost her dog. =(   I could feel her hot tears on my face and hear her crying. When I text her, she admitted this is what she was doing at that moment. I know it's an amazing gift I've been given, but sometimes I have to ask myself, "what is the purpose?"  Why was I given this? I don't see how I can put it to any good use, you know? It's more .... just..... &lt;em&gt;there&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well anyways, thank you for reading my pointless blog today. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt; I hope I find you feeling well, my friend. Have a good one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-7850749092425252251?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/7850749092425252251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/03/no-reason-no-rhyme.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/7850749092425252251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/7850749092425252251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/03/no-reason-no-rhyme.html' title='No reason, No Rhyme'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-55253401713677617</id><published>2009-02-24T12:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T07:54:52.988-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Shadow People...</title><content type='html'>I call them this only because I have no other way of explaining them. I see them everywhere... on the streets, in the mirrors, outside my home, in a store, in a car...&amp;nbsp;After my accident I started seeing these "shadows"  and they never speak to me or even make contact (with one exception I will get to...), but I can see them and I believe they are aware that I can. They have no detail to them, just a sillouette-like figure and they react to the things people do around them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, the other day I was at the market when I saw a "shadow person" follow someone down the frozen isle. It was a woman in her 40's, dressed in a suit. She was nothing out of the ordinary. It followed her all the way to the frozen corn where it stopped, placed a hand on her shoulder and turned to look at me. I stood, staring for a moment until the woman looked at me herself, with obvious confusion. As though to say, "what the fuck are YOU looking at?" I quickly turned and acted as if to be picking out some frozen dinners... when I looked again it was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are these "shadow people" angels? Maybe just beings from another place, I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I was buying an energy drink early in the morning at a gas station. As I was walking to the counter (not paying attention to where I was going), I suddenly saw from the corner of my eye a "shadow" shoulder check me so hard, I threw my arm back and jumped about 5 feet in the air. The kid at the counter (probably no older than 16 or 17) had the most shocked look on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "did you just SEE that?!?!"&lt;br /&gt;"Uh....No...." he said, not sure what I was going to do next, probably.&lt;br /&gt;"You &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt; just see that thing run into me? Right here?"&lt;br /&gt;"No ma'am, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood staring at him for just a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened. I just shook my head at myself and said,&amp;nbsp;"okay then. thanks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought my drink and got out of there before he called the police.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"shadow people." What are your thoughts?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-55253401713677617?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/55253401713677617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-shadow-people.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/55253401713677617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/55253401713677617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-shadow-people.html' title='My Shadow People...'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-8416679132909322271</id><published>2009-02-17T10:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T07:50:12.773-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My lucky 39</title><content type='html'>What a weird number to have as your lucky one, huh?  I started noticing the number 39 pop up in my life when I was about 13. I was waking up every single morning within the hours of 4am and 6am... all with the last two numbers on my clock being 39. Since then, always the number finds me!  When I was in my accident I had 39 stitches inside my abdomen. It happened at 11:39 am.  The only time I've ever won the lotto... the winning number was 39.  And after taxes I won 239 dollars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure I would consider this a "lucky" number, being that I died the second time at 12:39 (exactly an hour after my accident happened). But then again, I never feel horrible when I see the number, just a strange familiar feeling. Someone once told me it's a sign that I'm "on the right track in life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been teased about it in the past... being told I'm copying stories such as that movie, "Number 23." Well here's the thing... I don't have to add things to 39. The number 93 means absolutely nothing to me. I don't have to LOOK for the number...because like I said, it always finds ME first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-8416679132909322271?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/8416679132909322271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-lucky-39.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/8416679132909322271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/8416679132909322271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-lucky-39.html' title='My lucky 39'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-6171125390182044245</id><published>2009-02-10T10:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T07:45:24.264-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disgusting!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;You know, I heard a story today that made me sick to my stomach. I think my new job should be the job that Karma has. I have a lot of great ideas for those disgusting people in this world...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story I heard was about some kids in England who were caught holding 2 puppies over a bonfire, watching the fur singe off their tummies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What..... the.... FUCK.... ???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh!! Utter disgust! Dave Matthews quoted once: "There's evil people, but they still came weeping out of somebody's vagina...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(the puppies lived, by the way. So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; good...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-6171125390182044245?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/6171125390182044245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/disgusting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/6171125390182044245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/6171125390182044245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/disgusting.html' title='Disgusting!'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-8984951833412574799</id><published>2009-02-09T10:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T07:44:14.902-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Greatest Woman I Ever Knew...</title><content type='html'>She had red hair and green eyes. She grew up in the Amish community. She loved the Bee Gees and she loved Dave Matthews Band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was my mother, Ruth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She battled what started as breast cancer for more than 7 years. Most of my memories of her involved her illness... I can hardly recall the days before the cancer. She suffered through endless &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Chemo,&lt;/span&gt; radiation, and even a bone marrow transplant.... and I can count on one hand the number of times she complained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She died exactly 2 weeks before my 18&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday. She &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; see me graduate, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; help with my dress the day of my wedding, and she wouldn't be there if I ever had a child. My entire family was torn apart by her death and none of us have really healed. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; think anyone really heals after something like that.  Its sad, my family and I have turned our backs on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;each other&lt;/span&gt; (which is a long story for another time)... and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; not what Mom would have wanted. But how was she to know things would be this way without her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 14, 2001 I was pulled out of my science class to be taken to the hospital where my mother was told she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;wouldn't&lt;/span&gt; live to see dinner time.  A lot of things were said between her and I that day, but the one thing I remember the most was when we talked about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;DMB&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, my mother and I had an agreement: We would not see Dave Matthews Band live without the other one there. When her time came, we still hadn't seen them. I said to her, "Mom, this is not fair. You cannot die today! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;There's&lt;/span&gt; so much we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;haven't&lt;/span&gt; done together. Who will I see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;dmb&lt;/span&gt; with?"  she told me, "The next time they come to town, I want you to go see them. And when you see Dave up on stage....when you see him in the spotlight... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;thats&lt;/span&gt; where I'll be, in the spotlight."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few hours later she was gone. Out of my life, forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, though? I'm sure if you, dear reader, have lost a loved one you've asked the same question. WHY? My mother was everything that defines beauty... and now she is gone. Turn on the news tonight and you will see rapist and child molesters. Why not them? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Isn't&lt;/span&gt; that a horrible thing to say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Horrible or not: I'm sayin' it. Think I'll make a bumper sticker that says, "Tell your God to stop picking on people with cancer and pay attention to the child molesters." lol Could be a winner...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-8984951833412574799?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/8984951833412574799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/greatest-woman-i-ever-knew.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/8984951833412574799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/8984951833412574799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/greatest-woman-i-ever-knew.html' title='The Greatest Woman I Ever Knew...'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-7801206660494439021</id><published>2009-02-04T10:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T10:58:50.739-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The homeless guy and the flower</title><content type='html'>This morning before work I stopped at a local gas station to pick up a few goodies and I saw a homeless guy leaning against the dumpster outside. There was an empty field next door littered with trash and such... right in the middle was a weed with a pretty yellow flower popping out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I picked the flower and without saying a word, took it to the dirty man slumping on the ground. He didnt say anything for a few seconds, then he looked up at me and sighed, "thank you, young lady. That's exactly what I needed today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just smiled and said, "right on."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats all it takes sometimes, people! Spread the love....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-7801206660494439021?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/7801206660494439021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/homless-guy-and-flower.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/7801206660494439021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/7801206660494439021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/homless-guy-and-flower.html' title='The homeless guy and the flower'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-221190768421107371</id><published>2009-02-03T12:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T07:40:57.560-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All about my death...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Death? yeah, I know what &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; is...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June 23rd, 2003: I was driving to a sisters house when I swerved to miss a dog on the highway. Speeding? yes. Wearing my seat belt? yes, but it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt; matter....4 weeks later I woke up from a coma in ICU. What had happened was this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a dog on the highway. From the looks of it, he was homeless and starving. Knowing better, I swerved to miss it. I sped out of control and flew into oncoming traffic where I was hit by a truck. Pronounced dead at the scene and was gone for about 6 minutes. I was flown by helicopter&amp;nbsp;to a nearby hospital where I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;flat-lined &lt;/span&gt;a second time, this time being completely dead for almost 10 minutes. My family was told "if" I ever woke from my coma, there was a 94% chance I would be brain dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruptured my spleen and gallbladder, tore my liver in 2 pieces, and collapsed both of my lungs. Broke my hips and pelvic bone, broke both of my feet, and broke the back of my skull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke from my coma, I couldn't talk due to the great number of tubes protruding from both my mouth and chest. Apparently there was a nurse in ICU who could understand sign language and for 4 days after I woke, I spoke to her using my hands. Please understand, dear reader, that &lt;strong&gt;I do not even know how to spell my own name in sign language&lt;/strong&gt;. I knew things about the doctors and nurses, personal things. Things about their children and their private lives. How? I don't know how, but it just came into my head as they walked by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard (as I'm sure you have also) stories of people who have had a near death &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;experience&lt;/span&gt; and discovered they had developed a gift of some sort. I believe this has happened to me. Before my death(s) I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; have any abnormal capabilities , and let me tell you.... since then my life has been one hell of a roller coaster ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me take a moment here to talk about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;dmb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. There was a period of time after I woke from my coma when all I could do was sob. No matter how much morphine I was given, I just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;wouldnt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; stop crying. My father said, "I know what to do!" He ran to the nearest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and purchased a portable CD player and DMB's Crash album. He says as soon as he put those headphones on my head and pushed "Play," the crying stopped. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;listened&lt;/span&gt; to that album on repeat for more than 2 weeks...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Aaaanyways&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, Back to the story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was told by my doctors I would never walk again due to the way my hips and pelvic bone were broken. Any weight put on my legs would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;re break&lt;/span&gt; the bones because they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; heal correctly. So I spent 4 months (at 19years old) preparing to give up horse back riding, dirt bike riding, hiking, swimming, modeling, 4x4-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, and many other cherished hobbies. Alas, my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;stubbornness prevailed&lt;/span&gt;. 14 months later I was walking, with a cane mind you, but still....walking on my own 2 feet again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a very long haul since then... full recovery has not been something I've reached yet, and its been almost 8 years. I walk with a cane on occasion now, but still am dealing with mass amounts of pain. I try not to complain though! I beat all odds and am a miracle, yes, I am very aware of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the events since then? The voices, the visions and the people I see? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Ahhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;thats&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; a story for another time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next time you get in your car to go for a ride... think of me, my friend. Be sure to put on your seat belt, just hit the dog and go the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;freakin&lt;/span&gt; speed limit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-221190768421107371?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/221190768421107371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/all-about-my-death.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/221190768421107371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/221190768421107371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/all-about-my-death.html' title='All about my death...'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806250863629441056.post-9079094871974857693</id><published>2009-02-03T10:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T07:33:38.917-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Something you should know...</title><content type='html'>Let us call me, Dancing Nancy, shall we?  I feel this is appropriate as my heart lies with the Dave Matthews Band. As I tell you of the events in my life, you will understand why. I've been down many roads, witnessed many troubles, survived many tragedies, and been blessed in more ways than i can count....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Marriage to Divorce,  from my mothers death to my own (twice!), from 2 rapes to drug addiction, from at times, agonizing psychic  abilities to constant chronic pain... working in a strip club to working in a cubicle. Living my life as a bird in a cage to recently breaking free.... And in one way or another, Dave Matthews has sung about all of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are a fellow &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;dmb&lt;/span&gt; lover, please let me know, as I would like to know my readers can understand the love and respect I speak of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So sit back, dear reader, and be prepared to say, "No &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;freakin&lt;/span&gt;' way..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4806250863629441056-9079094871974857693?l=dancingcs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/feeds/9079094871974857693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/something-you-should-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/9079094871974857693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4806250863629441056/posts/default/9079094871974857693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dancingcs.blogspot.com/2009/02/something-you-should-know.html' title='Something you should know...'/><author><name>VodouSue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05033702846692458221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hVdRCFOuY_c/TXJSAveBIJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IFPQ3LNnwc4/s220/194582_1831214575698_1100386167_32184080_7216455_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
