<?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-19321652</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:40:39.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As Told By Moi</title><subtitle type='html'>So, this is me. I'm 15 years old, and live somewhere in California. I go to High School, I like swimming and drawing and sleeping. I like people that are nice. I love my friends and family, but they get on my last nerve sometimes. I love the rain and dancing in it.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14871075938267989701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19321652.post-113867743333009634</id><published>2006-01-30T18:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T19:17:13.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The List of Things I HATE About My House</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;1. It's no more than 800 sq. feet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;2. The only door in the whole entire house is to my bedroom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;3. No oven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;4. My walls are textured so poorly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;5. My room was made a year ago, and It was constructed terribly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;6. We have a curtian thats apporximately .5 mm thick for our bathroom door. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;7. Out hot water for the shower runs out in 6 minutes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;8. The cold water tab on out sink in the bathroom is practically impossible to turn off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;9. It's not insulated&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;10. The fucking cat's litter box is under the kitchen table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;11. We don't use the kitchen table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;12. The garbage can is in this spot where where you have to pick it up and move it to get to a plate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;13. Our refridgerator&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;14. How we keep at least 450 plastic bags under one of the five steps leading to our kitchen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;15. There's always at least three spiders in the shower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;16. The shower dosen't drain properly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;17. After it does drain, you have to clean it when you're already dry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;18. How the lightswitch in my room is behind my door, against the farthest wall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;19. how our door is impossible to shut in the winter, for it's made out of wood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;20, How we only have two burners for our stove.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;The stupid fucking lepoard print curtians that cover our cupard and shelf in the bathroom. Oh yeah, and thats whats made out of the bathroom door. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;21. My mothers bed is three inches away from the front door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;22. our sliding glass door is literally impossible to open, so we have to go out the front and walk around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;23. The light for the kitchen is behind the refrfgerator.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;24. The microwave is on top of the refridgerator&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;25. We have a armoir taking up half the living room, which is full of wrapping paper materials.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;26. We never have any tape or glue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;27. The  kitchen and bathroom flood at least once every winter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;28. To clean it up, my mother puts down old rags.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;29. We don't have a place to eat dinner&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;30. I don't have a closet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;I might add more later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19321652-113867743333009634?l=or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/feeds/113867743333009634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19321652&amp;postID=113867743333009634' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113867743333009634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113867743333009634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/2006/01/list-of-things-i-hate-about-my-house.html' title='The List of Things I HATE About My House'/><author><name>Lena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14871075938267989701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19321652.post-113867634677614636</id><published>2006-01-30T18:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T18:59:06.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Yeah, so not much but a lot has happened at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went downtown with Veronica, and she brought some smirnoff. I drank a little bit, but realized while I was ahead that drinking is so stupid. I mean, I personally think it's all phoscological. Veronica pretended like she was drunk, even though she had about three ounces. She brought it in a coke bottle, and It was exactly half full, so thats about 10 oz. then I drank about 2 oz. and there was about 5 oz. left when she stopped drinking. So obviously she was faking it, which sparked a great expiriment I want to conduct.&lt;br /&gt;I'll either have a party, and be all nonchalant and offer people alcohol, or it will just be me and her. What I'll do is have someone buy me a bottle of some unknown, foregin alcohol, and buy a bottle of tonic water. Now, tonic water doesnt taste like alcohol, but I bet I can convince Veronica that it's my parents weird shit. So I'll pour the tonic into the other bottle, and see if she pretends to be drunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"&gt;Win, I still like him, but I'm kinda slowly drifing from it. But I feel like if I go out with anyone else, I'm just settleing for second best, which I HATE. We started new classes today, so maybe I'll find someone in my class to like, Alice started to go to my school today. So far, it's been fine, but I still have 18 weeks left of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Molly started going out with this guy Reese, but before anything happened, she stoped liking him. I made her realize she thinks she likes everyone she meets, but then realizes she just likes the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;idea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt; of going out with them. And now shes for sure not going to my school, which is the best news. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;On the 10th, something that I can't really explain happened. It kinda resolved a LOT of things for myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;This really irritated me. The other day, Molly and I were taking a survey about each other. And one of the questions was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Where do you think your friend will be in ten years? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;And Molly answers, "I think you won't go to college. You dont have enough motivation. You will probably be living with your mother."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;You see, college to me, is more than just going to get an educatiuon for job preperation. It's freedom. What Molly dosen't realize, is that since neither of my parents went to college, It gives me more motivation, cuz I REALLY don't want to end up like them,&lt;br /&gt;Many things are like that for me. I kinda learn the hard way. Like my dad, he used to smoke pot, and it would make me really angry, so now I think it's disgusting. And my mom used to smoke cigarettes, and that was terrible, so in a way, I've been taught a better lesson. Molly's parents are so perfect. I mean, her mom's fucking insane, but her dad has a nice job, went to Coulmbia, and would never think about drinking or doing drugs. And now, shes kinda curious about drinking.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying that there isn't things she could learn the hard way from, but she has a pretty easy life financially and I don't.&lt;br /&gt;It kinda reminds me of Kelly Clarkson's song Because Of You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19321652-113867634677614636?l=or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/feeds/113867634677614636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19321652&amp;postID=113867634677614636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113867634677614636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113867634677614636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/2006/01/updates.html' title='Updates'/><author><name>Lena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14871075938267989701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19321652.post-113636644187057377</id><published>2006-01-04T00:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T01:20:41.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Collide</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt;I really feel like Hilary Duff in The Perfect Man, when she says she want's to move.&lt;br /&gt;When Howie Day's "Collide" is playing.&lt;br /&gt;I'm really wishing I were at an all girls boarding school right about now.&lt;br /&gt;Molly and Clarice sometimes. They drive me nuts.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh Lena, you're so asexual. You're so not open with your sexuality. But were just joking."&lt;br /&gt;Well FUCK YOU! I'm one of the most sexually open people I know, and thats saying a lot being surrounded with 15 year olds.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just not open with them, Because all they ever do is critize. And it drives me nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you wanna hear it?:&lt;br /&gt;In junior high, it was okay. My friends were nice. Boys weren't really in the picture for anyone, so it didn't matter. Molly told us she was moving across the country. We were all devestated, but were all also secertly okay with it cuz it gave us breating space. Clarice and I decided to go to the high school on the other side of town, which is actually where I live. We were independent from everyone else. It was nice. We had guy friends. And girl friends. Alice was at the other high school. Alice, you see, is really complicated to explain. She kind of hates everyone, except for me and Molly. She is such a "all talk but no action" kinda girl. Anyways, in spring of freshman year, Molly told us she was moving back.  We were all estastic, but secretly wished she would stay. Just a little part of us though. So Molly moved back in the summer, and went to the high school closest to hers. Not where me and Clarice went. Not where Alice went.&lt;br /&gt;Sophomore year, this year, Clarice joined band. I normally wouldnt have a problem with that, but she's getting really caught up in their realm and her other friends are her last resort. Molly and I have a great friendship, but sometimes, shes so nosy and weird about things. Alice and I were close or freshman year, but kinda faded away cuz she was getting out of hand. I still talk to her and see her from time to time, but she really hurt Molly when Molly moved.&lt;br /&gt;You see Alice and Molly were really close from the beginning of 8th grade to the middle/end. Alice basically told Molly all of the things she hated about her one day, and I didn't want to get hurt like Molly did.&lt;br /&gt;So tonight, I find out Alice is now switching to my school. Of course she will never hang out with me, and be really weird. But who knows. Like I said, shes all talk. But sometimes she can fool you, I mean you never know with that girl. Then Molly tells me shes seriously thinking about switching. And becoming part of band. Which will leave me.&lt;br /&gt;Abandoned.&lt;br /&gt;I have other friends, Veronica and Blake, and Elisa. These are the ones that I actually hang out with.&lt;br /&gt;The I have ones that I hang out with in school. But Its not the same.&lt;br /&gt;I know I may sound selfish, but I don't want Molly to switch. Alice I wont ever see at school, so I don't really care. But Molly. That would kinda suck like a two dollar whore.&lt;br /&gt;And boys.&lt;br /&gt;I've decided I don't like Dusty anymore. Kinda obvious. Cedric, well, I would go out with him if he asked me out, but I'm not attracted to him.&lt;br /&gt;Win. Well, tonite I told him I liked him over AIM and then said I was joking. But really, that would be weird. I mean, I've only met him once!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am at 1 AM and seriously considering boarding school. Really kind of wanting to start over.&lt;br /&gt;And now I feel so desprate, I'll say yes to anyone that asks me out. But thats typical for a teenager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep thinking into the future. Thinking about how I only have 2 years 5 months left until College. Until I can escape. Or even further, when I will have friends that I go to jazzy clubs with when I'm twentysomething. And maybe the I'll have a nice boyfriend. Maybe then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But until then, I'm stuck singing Jack Johnson's tune Sitting, Waiting, Wishing.&lt;br /&gt;That's bascially my theme song.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19321652-113636644187057377?l=or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/feeds/113636644187057377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19321652&amp;postID=113636644187057377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113636644187057377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113636644187057377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/2006/01/collide.html' title='Collide'/><author><name>Lena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14871075938267989701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19321652.post-113635042488796927</id><published>2006-01-03T20:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T20:53:44.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Daily</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Word of the Day:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold; font-family: courier new; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;gastronome&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt; \GAS-truh-nohm\, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;noun&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!-- wotd="gastronome" --&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt; A connoisseur of good food and drink.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Mood: Shiny&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Color: Beige&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Eating/Drinking: Skor Bar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Song of the Day: Tom Petty- Free Fallin'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Lyrics: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;She’s a good girl, loves her mama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Loves jesus and america too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;She’s a good girl, crazy ’bout elvis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Loves horses and her boyfriend too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;It’s a long day living in reseda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;There’s a freeway runnin’ through the yard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;And I’m a bad boy cause I don’t even miss her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;I’m a bad boy for breakin’ her heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;And I’m free, free fallin’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Yeah I’m free, free fallin’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;All the vampires walkin’ through the valley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Move west down ventura boulevard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;And all the bad boys are standing in the shadows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;A ll the good girls are home with broken hearts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;And I’m free, free fallin’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Yeah I’m free, free fallin’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Free fallin’, now I’m free fallin’, now i’m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Free fallin’, now I’m free fallin’, now i’m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;I wanna glide down over mulholland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;I wanna write her name in the sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Gonna free fall out into nothin’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Gonna leave this world for a while&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;And I’m free, free fallin’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;Yeah I’m free, free fallin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19321652-113635042488796927?l=or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/feeds/113635042488796927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19321652&amp;postID=113635042488796927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113635042488796927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113635042488796927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/2006/01/daily.html' title='Daily'/><author><name>Lena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14871075938267989701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19321652.post-113632538674843228</id><published>2006-01-03T13:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T13:56:26.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Him</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;To me, Him is two/three people at this moment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Dusty*-  I talked to him for 1 1/2 hours for a semester last year. He's cute, and nice, and would make a good boyfriend, but I don't talk to him anymore. Plus, he is living in Vancouver for part of the year, like he does every year, so it's pretty hard to go say "Hi" to him at school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Cedric*- He's currently in my english class. He's also cute, nice, smart and would make a good boyfriend. He's semi-popular, but that dosent mean anything. He's the eaisest to communicate with, since I have class with him every day. But we switch classes in a few weeks, and I'm not gonna tell him I like him, cuz I don't really. I mean, I do, but not that much. Not like Win*.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Win*- Wow. He's amazing. Really smart and passionate. Uber hot. We love the same music and movies. A hopeless romantic. Would be a great boyfriend. So what's the problem? Well, I've only met him once. I've talked to him on myspace and AIM a few times. I mean, he knows who I am. It's hard to talk to him at school. First off, I don't have any classes with him, secondly, he only goes to our school part time. He does the independent studies program. So he's at school for one class. But literally, wow!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;I wish one of them would just ask me out. I know thats a lot to ask, but thats the truth. I could tell them I liked them, but for Dusty, well hes in Vancouver, and thats kind of faded anyways. Cedric would be the easiest, but I don't like him enough. I would say yes if he asked me out, but I really have to like someone to tell them. Win, now I almost feel like telling him, but I've only met the guy once! I guess that could be a good thing, cuz then I dont have to see him everyday and be akward. But it would be so weird to tell him. He would wonder how I like him through meeting him once. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;But I mean, Molly* likes someone shes only met once. Tristan*, one of the guys who asked me out, has never really met me! So it's not uncommon, it's just weird.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;I'm a wreck!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;* Sorry I haven't been mentioning this before, but names have been changed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19321652-113632538674843228?l=or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/feeds/113632538674843228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19321652&amp;postID=113632538674843228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113632538674843228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113632538674843228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/2006/01/him.html' title='Him'/><author><name>Lena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14871075938267989701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19321652.post-113632438607316748</id><published>2006-01-03T13:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T13:39:46.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Will You Go Out With Me"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;I think it's a pretty fucking weird thing to say since you do the exact opposite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been asked out by 5 guys, and all of them have used this phrase. In response to one of them, I asked "But where are we going?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't understand, but really. why "will you go out with me"? Teenagers do the opposite. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt; They say "We're going out" but they've never been on a date. They just do physcial stuff and see each other at school or at their houses. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;It's just really stupid. Once you're "going out" with someone, you are automatically their girlfriend/boyriend. It's not "Lets see how things go" but "Were now a couple."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;Even if someone hasn't done a single thing with the person, they say "I'm breaking up with you"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;Like Molly*, she "went out" with one of my friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;But did she really? I mean, he asked her out, and she said "I guess".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;Then literally a day later, without having seeing him, she calls him up and say's "I don't want to go out with you anymore" It may seem mean, but if you knew the guy, it's not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;Back to my point. When she responds to the myspace surveys, and they ask if she's ever broke up with someone, she answers yes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;Yet if they ask her if she's ever had a boyfriend, she says no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;Would you guys consider this a "break up" cuz I  just consider it her changing her mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;You tell me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19321652-113632438607316748?l=or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/feeds/113632438607316748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19321652&amp;postID=113632438607316748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113632438607316748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113632438607316748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/2006/01/will-you-go-out-with-me.html' title='&quot;Will You Go Out With Me&quot;'/><author><name>Lena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14871075938267989701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19321652.post-113632371109997435</id><published>2006-01-03T13:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T13:28:40.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey People</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Boys.&lt;br /&gt;They can be so complicated, but so can girls so I can't  be talking.&lt;br /&gt;It seems like my friends go into competition over boys. Not necessaily the same boy, but boys in general. As in, who can get a boyfriend the fastest. Some of my friends don't do this, but Molly* does A LOT. She pretends to like guys to see if she can get them, but the boys realize what shes doing and it never works. It seems the only reason shes doing this is to have a boyfriend before me. And I just know that if she does, two days after she's going out with someone, she'll make a remark like "You really need a boyfriend. Theyre great." or "I can't believe you don't have a boyfriend yet."&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I want a boyfriend, I'm tired of being single, but part of me just wants one to say I have one. Or to be able to answer some questions on those stupid myspace surveys with "yes" instead of "never".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19321652-113632371109997435?l=or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/feeds/113632371109997435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19321652&amp;postID=113632371109997435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113632371109997435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113632371109997435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/2006/01/hey-people.html' title='Hey People'/><author><name>Lena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14871075938267989701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19321652.post-113298536897224497</id><published>2005-11-25T22:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-25T22:09:28.980-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome!</title><content type='html'>Well, This is my new blog.&lt;br /&gt;I hope to post about everyday, but I might be busy.&lt;br /&gt;I usually post random thoughts or things that are bothering me.&lt;br /&gt;Hope You Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19321652-113298536897224497?l=or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/feeds/113298536897224497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19321652&amp;postID=113298536897224497' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113298536897224497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19321652/posts/default/113298536897224497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://or-so-you-thought.blogspot.com/2005/11/welcome_25.html' title='Welcome!'/><author><name>Lena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14871075938267989701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
