<?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-5069915088624899434</id><updated>2011-07-07T19:18:00.795-06:00</updated><category term='Stories'/><category term='Family'/><category term='Dreaming'/><category term='Feelings and Shit'/><category term='Music'/><category term='Love'/><category term='Friends'/><category term='Band'/><category term='Work'/><category term='Thoughts'/><category term='Golf'/><category term='Writing for the sake of writing'/><category term='Commitments'/><category term='Miscellaneous'/><category term='Vacation'/><category term='Sports'/><category term='Good things'/><category term='Lists'/><category term='Facts about me'/><category term='The weekend'/><category term='School'/><title type='text'>I Wish I Was a Writer</title><subtitle type='html'>words of love along the wire</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>360</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-1241553990706840305</id><published>2010-01-31T20:46:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T21:09:13.467-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commitments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writing for the sake of writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>attention good people of the universe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;After three years of blogging about stupid things, I have decided to stop blogging on Blogger and instead move to tumblr.  This is basically because:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;a) I already have a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://allisonfire.tumblr.com"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;tumblr page&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; where I just reblog and like photos and stuff that other people post, so it's easier to just manage my blogs on one website.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;b) Tumblr is just really easy and I like the layout there a lot more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;c) Honestly, I feel like I want to have a public blog that my friends can read (yes, very self-centered) and there are a lot of things I have written in this blog that I feel are very personal.  I know, hey?  I have this blog available to the whole wide web and I think it's too personal! Hilarious!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'm not going to delete this blog but I will not post here anymore.  There are way too many posts on this blog to erase this whole thing!  Although, there are a lot of ridiculously depressing posts and a lot of ridiculously cheesy posts going on here with all of the memories and good stuff I wrote about.  This whole blog was exactly what I wanted to be - a way to remember things that are going on with my life - but I feel like starting fresh will be good.  I guess I should've done it at the beginning of the month to make it more symbolic, hey?  Ah well.  I'm going to try to incorporate more short and sweet things and try to stop with the pretentious non-paragraph posts.  Maybe I'll try a different writing style; every time I read over my posts, I hate the way I put my words!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So here is the link to the new blog: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://setooo.tumblr.com"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;http://setooo.tumblr.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;. I'm sorry if this is a hassle, since I won't be up on your dashboard anymore, but to be honest, I'm not that interesting so you don't have to be obligated to follow me anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Goodbye I Wish I Was A Writer, June 30, 2007 - January 31, 2010, 360 posts.  You were a good listener.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt; mushaboom - feist&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/5069915088624899434-1241553990706840305?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/1241553990706840305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=1241553990706840305&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1241553990706840305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1241553990706840305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/attention-good-people-of-universe.html' title='attention good people of the universe'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-1059869787948734601</id><published>2010-01-30T02:27:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T02:31:59.496-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facts about me'/><title type='text'>realization</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/S2P8P9CLYoI/AAAAAAAAAG0/PNVm3GZkgXs/s1600-h/DSCF1025.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/S2P8P9CLYoI/AAAAAAAAAG0/PNVm3GZkgXs/s320/DSCF1025.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432462926550884994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I used to think that I always wanted to be surrounded by people I knew, even if I didn't know them very well.  But these days I feel like unless I'm with the people I really want to be with (you know who you are), I'd much rather be alone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; liver and tan - the neighbourhood council&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/5069915088624899434-1059869787948734601?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/1059869787948734601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=1059869787948734601&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1059869787948734601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1059869787948734601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/realization.html' title='realization'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/S2P8P9CLYoI/AAAAAAAAAG0/PNVm3GZkgXs/s72-c/DSCF1025.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-1255219093377731802</id><published>2010-01-29T00:01:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T00:04:20.848-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>grow up and blow away</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;Today after I got home from school, I played Rock Band with my brother and then we looked up cheap watches on eBay for him to buy.  While I was sitting on his chair, he stood beside me and leaned on my shoulder.  I don't know why, but I've always loved it when he leaned on me.  Like when we were in the car and he'd rest his head on my shoulder because he was tired.  He is growing old!  We're both growing and it's strange and weird.&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/5069915088624899434-1255219093377731802?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/1255219093377731802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=1255219093377731802&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1255219093377731802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1255219093377731802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/grow-up-and-blow-away.html' title='grow up and blow away'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5512054664294368453</id><published>2010-01-27T08:46:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T08:50:34.474-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellaneous'/><title type='text'>it's the middle of the week</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/S2BgipCH7tI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Eltl96IUGfc/s1600-h/DSCF1015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/S2BgipCH7tI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Eltl96IUGfc/s320/DSCF1015.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431447298855399122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And I would just like to say that this whole week isn't actually as hard as I thought it was going to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-5512054664294368453?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5512054664294368453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5512054664294368453&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5512054664294368453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5512054664294368453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/its-middle-of-week.html' title='it&apos;s the middle of the week'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/S2BgipCH7tI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Eltl96IUGfc/s72-c/DSCF1015.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-7116972430707684900</id><published>2010-01-25T23:31:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T23:40:54.201-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>it's easy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;I've been opening up to more people lately than I used to before ... maybe it's because it doesn't exactly hurt very much anymore.  Good thing?  Yes.  The past year and a half have been quite the vertical climb, I have to admit.  There are still a lot of times where the memories come back, but hey, I know they are only memories.  It was good while it lasted, but things are good right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So.  Calculus is fun.  My professor makes it all simpler, and time goes by faster with him.  He's just got this quality that makes me respect him and enjoy learning from him.  I hung out with Heather for a little while, I wish we could've spent more time together.  I ate dinner alone, which was weird because my iPod died and I didn't bring my laptop in hopes of doing some math (dumb), so I just sat there and thought about things.  Art class was really interesting, I love looking at other people's work and today we got to see a lot of stuff my art teacher's done.  He is so funny!  "I gave this table to my mom and dad and they ruined it.  Stupid mom and dad!  They're always disappointing me.  I'm never giving them another artwork again EVER!"  I couldn't help but laugh.  Anyway.  Walked back to math sciences with Stephanie, we talked about stuff like God existing and other things and it was nice.  It always feels like I'm chipping off some of the hurt I have built up inside of me when I talk to other people about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt; giving up the gun - vampire weekend&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/5069915088624899434-7116972430707684900?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/7116972430707684900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=7116972430707684900&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7116972430707684900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7116972430707684900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/its-easy.html' title='it&apos;s easy'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-7021359613744592252</id><published>2010-01-24T13:02:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T13:08:26.073-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>what happens when you die?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Because classes and classes of science have told me that nothing disappears.  Where do all of your thoughts and memories and feelings go when your brain stops?  Who are you after you're dead?  You're just a body, you're just a statistic.  You are only a physical reminder of who you used to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I think that is the one thing that scares me about dying.. not having any more thoughts.  Thinking is all that I do!  I think that is the only reason I write this blog, because if I didn't and I died, nobody would know who I was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; red sun no. 5 - owen pallett&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/5069915088624899434-7021359613744592252?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/7021359613744592252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=7021359613744592252&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7021359613744592252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7021359613744592252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-happens-when-you-die.html' title='what happens when you die?!'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-9178656775079289566</id><published>2010-01-23T00:50:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T00:54:58.203-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>so this is happiness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/S1qqjc7LRsI/AAAAAAAAAGk/XxJt618wnhU/s1600-h/DSCF0006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/S1qqjc7LRsI/AAAAAAAAAGk/XxJt618wnhU/s320/DSCF0006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429839826785093314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Lately I've been going out in the dark and taking pictures of snow-covered trees, because they are beautiful and it feels more like me.  Bronwyn and I hung out yesterday because she lost her keys and went to find me at work to use my cell phone ... we ended up driving to DQ for dinner, going to her religion class, buying pizza, and picking up her sister.  Today I went to go see Avatar with Tallan, Bronwyn, Natalie, and Sheila, and it was the best.  My laugh felt real&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/5069915088624899434-9178656775079289566?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/9178656775079289566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=9178656775079289566&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/9178656775079289566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/9178656775079289566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/so-this-is-happiness.html' title='so this is happiness'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/S1qqjc7LRsI/AAAAAAAAAGk/XxJt618wnhU/s72-c/DSCF0006.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-8295277701271919371</id><published>2010-01-20T11:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T11:17:30.123-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>i don't know</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;Last night, as I was trying to fall asleep for the second time, my sister said something extremely rude to me.  I was so angry I cried, and I couldn't stop crying and my blanket and pillow were soaked and the right side of my chest hurt.&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/5069915088624899434-8295277701271919371?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/8295277701271919371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=8295277701271919371&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8295277701271919371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8295277701271919371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-dont-know.html' title='i don&apos;t know'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5769980900259596023</id><published>2010-01-19T18:18:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T18:20:43.729-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>please please me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;Every day I feel like I know less and less people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It feels weird to go to one class and then play cards at Mac Hall for an hour and a half after.  So much wasted time.  I really don't have much to do, though, so I'm not going to feel guilty.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt; get back - the beatles&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/5069915088624899434-5769980900259596023?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5769980900259596023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5769980900259596023&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5769980900259596023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5769980900259596023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/please-please-me.html' title='please please me'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3783618772378154322</id><published>2010-01-17T21:19:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T21:28:40.060-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>woooooooo!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;Yesterday was absolutely hilarious.  I worked for six hours, and then went to Jenny's house for her birthday.  The other girls got me to dress up (I had to borrow everyone's everything, and they put makeup on me) and then we headed over to this guy name Jason's house to go predrink.  After a couple shots of vodka, and trying to figure out rides (which apparently was extremely hard), we all went down to the Whiskey.  It was pretty much dead when we got there.  Jenny got a couple more drinks.  The girls drank.  I chilled out with the guys.  More drinks.  Pretty soon, all the girls were dancing and I was hanging out at the table with all the guys.  I talked to Paul a lot and it was pretty fun.  He bought us a round of drinks, and then occasionally I'd see Jenny and all the other girls dancing and I couldn't help but laugh!  Jenny was so drunk she was being supported by everyone else, and every few minutes someone would shout "happy birthday Jenny!" and everyone would chant her name, and everyone else would look at us like we were crazy.  I loved it.  Dancing with them was fun.  A guy I met that night (but I can't remember his name!) who was friends with Jenny kept doing cheesy dance moves with me, and then he kept asking me why I wouldn't go and dance.  So we all danced around together.  I helped one of the girls go to the washroom because she was done and everyone kept telling us to cut her off. It was fun but I'm not the biggest fan of clubs so I left early with Gabe.  Everyone was so drunk!  It was so amusing.&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/5069915088624899434-3783618772378154322?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3783618772378154322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3783618772378154322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3783618772378154322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3783618772378154322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/woooooooo.html' title='woooooooo!'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2853530134379355899</id><published>2010-01-13T23:53:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T00:05:53.113-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>yawn</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;Okay I have to go to bed soon (I really haven't been going to bed early OR drinking enough water, my bad times two), but I guess I haven't blogged for the past two days and I will probably forget some funny stuff that has happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yesterday I went shopping with Cailey and Mikki because I didn't have any classes.  We basically went shopping for stuff for their trip, so I just chilled out.  I bought a mint chocolate at MEC because I was so hungry and it was great.  After that, we found a place called The Holy Grail that makes delicious food!  Fries and hamburgers and paninis, mmmmm so good.  After that, they went to the library and I went to the mall to buy Heartland and Contra which are both amazing!  Heartland is just chocolate to my ears, Owen Pallett is a genius.  It all just works, even though there are so many layers to his songs.  Oh man oh man.  I can't stop listening to it on repeat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;After that I went to work, some girl was really snarky about eating food in the lab (you're not allowed to eat in the lab and we have numerous signs saying so).  "Oh, really?  I've never been told that I can't eat in here."  OH REALLY?  Ugh.  It was a pretty long day, but nothing compared to today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'm so not used to spending an entire day at school.  I really enjoy my math 271 class because my professor is really interesting and the stuff he teaches his interesting.  I really wish, though, that he wouldn't have a lab tomorrow so I could just not go to school tomorrow until work again, but oh well.  I had lunch with Natalie and later Sheila, and I just didn't feel like going to calculus so I didn't go.  I think we were just reviewing integrals anyway, so it wasn't that big of a deal.  I can't skip anymore classes though.  Philosophy was really weird, it all felt like common sense stuff.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Art was really funny today.  It's so late that by that time I wish I was already at home, but then my art professor shows us how to make clay busts and plaster sculptures and it's really interesting.  And my professor ... oh man.  While he was kneading the clay, he asked everyone if they had used clay before.  He then told us a story about how in high school, he made a bong out of clay.  His laughter is so infectious.  Later on, when he was showing us the plaster demo, the first balloon popped, and then the second balloon popped, and then there was a leak in the bag.  So when he tried to do it over again, when he was cutting the string of the other balloons on the nozzle of the plaster machine off, he inadvertently sliced open his balloon, causing plaster to spill everywhere.  It was too funny.  I'm really glad I joined this art class!  The people are nice and it's just so relaxing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  keep the dog quiet - owen pallett &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/5069915088624899434-2853530134379355899?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2853530134379355899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2853530134379355899&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2853530134379355899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2853530134379355899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/yawn.html' title='yawn'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-156136211561019769</id><published>2010-01-11T22:55:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T23:03:09.440-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>today was the first day back at school</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be!  I like my professors.  Or, at least the ones that I met.  My math 271 professor has a great Asian accent and he is good at explaining things.  I didn't learn anything really in my computer science lecture, I had lunch with Natalie, someone else was filling in for my math 253 professor and he was kind of mean.  I was really tempted to take a nap.  My philosophy class was cancelled so I went to the bank and to Starbucks and to London Drugs to try to kill time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I worked and then hung around in Mac Hall.  Just as I was about to go to my art lecture, I saw Noor and Roger on Omegle having hilarious conversations with strangers.  It tempted me to skip my lecture, but I decided to go anyway.  I rode the elevator up with a girl, and after we both got off on the sixth floor, she asked me what class I was in.  She was very outgoing, I wish I was more like her.  My art class is really small - probably twenty people!  The girl I befriended then introduced herself to the other three people sitting near us, so I introduced myself, and I guess we are friends?  Or at least friendly.  It was nice.  My art professor is hilarious!  He kept cracking us up unintentionally during class, with his pneumonic devices and his troubles with the computer.  We got a tour of the art building, and then we got to go home early.  I finally found out what my class is about - sculpting!  I get to sculpt!  I'm kinda excited.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; i'm a loser - the beatles &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/5069915088624899434-156136211561019769?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/156136211561019769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=156136211561019769&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/156136211561019769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/156136211561019769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/today-was-first-day-back-at-school.html' title='today was the first day back at school'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-4253006771961041125</id><published>2010-01-10T22:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T22:55:13.428-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>to do</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;Start a taxi fund.  Drink two litres of water whenever I want to go drinking.  Look up "butthole of the earth".  Rewatch my old videos from Montreal and camps.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Oh how I missed Brittany Rae!  Today was fun.  I also watched Hard Day's Night with my brother and older sister and it was hilarious.  I don't want to go back to school!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;:&lt;/b&gt;  willow tree - chad vangaalen&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/5069915088624899434-4253006771961041125?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/4253006771961041125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=4253006771961041125&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4253006771961041125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4253006771961041125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/to-do.html' title='to do'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3987180926743371457</id><published>2010-01-10T00:47:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T01:27:06.446-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>today was a long day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt;10.5 hour long shifts are tiring.  It was slow, and I wore my boots which killed as the day went on (dumb decision on my part).  Annie and I went on a dinner date.  I helped my sister sell a bunch of raffle tickets.  Kyle pocket-dialed the police and they came while we were doing inventory.  I'm so tired of counting things (oooooh is this a bigger picture reference?  No.  No it's not.).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to: &lt;/b&gt;yesterday - the beatles&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/5069915088624899434-3987180926743371457?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3987180926743371457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3987180926743371457&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3987180926743371457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3987180926743371457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/today-was-long-day.html' title='today was a long day'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-1441736417959278031</id><published>2010-01-09T01:35:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T01:21:46.592-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>i like these things</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt;Movies, no matter how strange or inappropriate, with good friends.  Train operators who comment about the weather and hockey games on your commute.  Rock band with inexperienced players.  New agendas, long conversations, playful fights involving grabbing rods (you know, the rods with clampers at the end of them so you can grab things without having to get up).&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/5069915088624899434-1441736417959278031?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/1441736417959278031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=1441736417959278031&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1441736417959278031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1441736417959278031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-like-these-things.html' title='i like these things'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5574355548078308980</id><published>2010-01-07T19:56:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T20:04:49.236-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>what i hate more than most things</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Is waiting.  Not knowing whether you're going to be relieved or let down.  Putting everything on hold because you need this in order to keep going.  Letting it take over your mind, causing paranoia, or false hope, or unnecessary scenarios.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I think I'm just too impatient.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;  gold gun girls - metric&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/5069915088624899434-5574355548078308980?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5574355548078308980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5574355548078308980&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5574355548078308980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5574355548078308980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-i-hate-more-than-most-things.html' title='what i hate more than most things'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2267904442980183296</id><published>2010-01-06T21:43:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T21:45:40.755-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><title type='text'>life goes on</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I currently have a 3.34 GPA.  I guess it's pretty good considering the amount of time I spent awake/paying attention in my classes.  Linear algebra was disappointing though, I honestly thought I did well on that final.  Oh well.  I guess I'll try harder next semester.  I'm going to get the book my cousin recommended to me and study better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Right now I'm listening to Contra, Vampire Weekend's album that's coming out next Monday.  It's good!  It's really catchy.  And then after I'll listen to Owen Pallet's live recording, and then another live recording.  I'm excited for Friday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;edit:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  I forgot to write about the dream I had last night!  I dreamed I somehow acquired a Canon 50D so I was taking pictures of my family, my house etc. but all of the pictures kept coming out terrible.  I didn't understand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  taxi cab - vampire weekend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-2267904442980183296?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2267904442980183296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2267904442980183296&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2267904442980183296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2267904442980183296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/life-goes-on.html' title='life goes on'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2772262344007089316</id><published>2010-01-05T14:25:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T14:26:17.271-07:00</updated><title type='text'>p.s. i'm not sad!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt;Just thinking.&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/5069915088624899434-2772262344007089316?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2772262344007089316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2772262344007089316&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2772262344007089316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2772262344007089316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/ps-im-not-sad.html' title='p.s. i&apos;m not sad!'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3083954749282136846</id><published>2010-01-05T13:25:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T14:18:21.854-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreaming'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>heat her up, set her on fire (i love to see that spark in her eyes)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Man, I used to write okay before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Maybe today I'll bake cookies with Cailey, or get my credit card, or read a book, or play Rock Band with my brother.  I wish someone would ask me to hang out for once, it's always the other way around.  I could be a hermit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Last night I had a dream that I had to go to social studies, and my grade four teacher was teaching.  It took me so long to find the classroom, and when I got there everyone I knew but weren't really friends with were in that class, and I had to squeeze myself between two people with a desk that wasn't really a desk but a piece of foam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;  starlight - muse&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/5069915088624899434-3083954749282136846?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3083954749282136846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3083954749282136846&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3083954749282136846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3083954749282136846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/heat-her-up-set-her-on-fire-i-love-to.html' title='heat her up, set her on fire (i love to see that spark in her eyes)'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6404651414650334916</id><published>2010-01-05T00:18:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T00:21:00.779-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><title type='text'>may the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorows</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small; "&gt;I went to the Kilk today with Cailey, Tess, Ciaran, and their friend Scott for wing night.  So many people from Abe were there; we ran in to Riley, who then took us around the bar to see other people, like Nico, and Cole, and a bunch of those guys.  It was pretty surreal.  Riley was pretty funny because he was so drunk.  Do you ever get that feeling where you feel like you're all alone, even though you're with a group of people?&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/5069915088624899434-6404651414650334916?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6404651414650334916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6404651414650334916&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6404651414650334916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6404651414650334916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/may-best-of-your-todays-be-worst-of.html' title='may the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorows'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-7808433357303514234</id><published>2010-01-04T00:13:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T00:17:38.105-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>luk yu</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I went to a birthday party for a friend I don't see very often, but I love being around him.  He's so funny.  I wonder why I don't do this more often; they are great friends who honestly care, who are nice and very genuine.  They were my first friends at high school; I wonder why we're not so tight anymore.  I guess because I tend to drift around, and I found people who I really wanted to hang around and I had to compromise.  I'm sorry about that.  I wish there was more time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sometimes I still miss you.  There are feelings that still linger.  I think most of it is because I'm wondering why you don't miss me; that's a blow to my self esteem.  I feel like I need a good, long, easy conversation with someone.&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/5069915088624899434-7808433357303514234?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/7808433357303514234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=7808433357303514234&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7808433357303514234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7808433357303514234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/luk-yu.html' title='luk yu'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-7711749585756821728</id><published>2010-01-02T22:14:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T22:18:04.379-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>today is january second</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small; "&gt;I worked for the first time in three weeks and played Settlers of Catan with my siblings.  I sold raffle tickets.  Sometimes I wonder if I am really boring, I can't ever have a great conversation with any of my coworkers.  I got approved for my credit card, I guess I'll pick it up on Monday.  I was supposed to have plans tonight but I didn't really know what was going on.  Someone asked me to go see Avatar in thirteen minutes, but I'm feeling lazy and I don't feel like doing anything anymore.&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/5069915088624899434-7711749585756821728?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/7711749585756821728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=7711749585756821728&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7711749585756821728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7711749585756821728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/today-is-january-second.html' title='today is january second'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-510475197079515656</id><published>2010-01-01T17:36:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T18:00:20.518-07:00</updated><title type='text'>why is this going so slow?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;Wow.  I am resolving to never ever drink as much as I did last night, because that was pretty ridiculous.  It was fun though!  But today it was pretty awful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I guess I'll backtrack a couple days, since I haven't been going on here lately.  Two days ago, I hung out with Heather all day and it was really great!  We went shopping on 17th and talked and got our asses kicked by the cold.  We went to both Purr locations and got nice stuff.  We gave a homeless man some change and he wiped off the snow from her car.  Heather thought he was telling her to find another parking spot.  We ate at Nellie's and it was delicious, and then we tried to eat a brownie but it was just too big.  We went to TD and didn't find anything there, and then she dropped me off at my friend's apartment, where I spent the night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;We went to Superstore to go buy food and liquor, and then we started playing Sociables which was kinda fun.  At first it was Maggie, Nick, Jade, and me, and then Toni showed up.  After a while we started Skyping with Jacqui, but the internet kept cutting out, and then Jesse came and drank a lot of my vodka.  Masart came a while later and Toni and Nick left, and we played Sociables again.  Jesse, being totally drunk, stripped off all of his clothes for picture time, even though Maggie meant to be in the shower with his clothes on.  Then he made Jade do the same, but in her underwear.  Then we all felt like we had enough to drink so we just laid on the bed and talked.  Well, listened to Jesse talk about the girl he was in love with until he passed out.  Later we tried to get him to wake up because he had to drive home to give his dad his truck's key, but he wouldn't wake up.  When we finally tried to move him, he puked all over the carpet and it was so disgusting.  We cleaned it all up, and even though I really didn't want Masart to drive home because he was still drunk, he did and that scared the shit out of me.  Seriously, I hated the fact that I was letting him go home, but he wouldn't stay over, or decide to take the train, or let us call him a cab.  He texted us later and told us that he got home alright, but seriously I never want to be put in that situation ever again.  We went to bed at 5:30, after a heart-to-heart with Maggie and Jade, and woke up at 11.  I got home at around two, and vacuumed/washed the hardwood floors.  Then I took a nap because I was so freaking tired. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I went to the Drum and Monkey to meet up with Heather, and also Tess, Ciaran, and Cailey because they decided to go there too.  First I found Cailey and them, and then Heather came by and brought me over to her table to meet her friends.  This guy named Cam kept talking to me about UVic, and about being a park ranger or something like that.  It was kinda funny and weird at the same time.  After a little while I went back to hang out with Cailey and them, and we decided to head back to Tess' house to play games and stuff after a shot.  Cailey's mom picked us up, and dropped us off at Ciaran's car.  The two minutes standing out in the cold was so bad I couldn't stop shivering!  Thank goodness the car ride was short.  We brought a whole bunch of liquor from her basement fridge, and the vodka in her kitchen.  We also got chips and dip.  I first started out with a Corona which turned out to had expired on May 2, 2009, so it was really really strong (that was drink number three for the night, by the way).  There was only fifteen minutes until the countdown and none of us were drunk yet, so we decided to play chandeliers.  I put way too much vodka in my drinks!  It was half and half, and I had to drink four times.  And I chugged them all down, it was ridiculous.  Tess freaked out that there were only two minutes until midnight, even though it was 11:48 and not 11:58 so that was really funny.  After we decided to stop drinking because I knew I was done, and we had only played for seven minutes.  I couldn't stand for some odd reason, so I ended up lying on the ground, and Cailey couldn't stop laughing at me and her laugh made me laugh and my laugh made her laugh, so we just couldn't stop laughing because I was really drunk and she wasn't really, but it was just so funny.  Tess yelled at us to go downstairs to watch the countdown on the TV because we didn't really know which clock was right, so we made it just in time to count down from five!  We banged pots and pans and I made Tess and Ciaran kiss.  Tess wanted to count down again because she liked banging the pot, and I laughed at that and Cailey laughed at me.  We just could not stop laughing.  We went to go play Dutch Blitz, and I couldn't go fast at all.  It was as if everything was in slow motion, and I kept doing things wrong and I kept laughing which made it really, really hard.  Ciaran won and then we decided to stop playing because it was too hard for me and Cailey.  The rest of what happened is kind of a blur, I think Ciaran took the rest of the pictures on my disposable camera because it's now down to zero, and I can't remember if I puked in the bathroom, or if I only puked in the bucket that Tess provided me with.  Ciaran was really nice, he held my hair back and rubbed my back while I puked, and gave me bread and water and I just felt so ridiculous.  I kept apologizing and saying how embarrassed I was.  My dad picked me up and him and my sister laughed at how drunk I was.  Then we picked up my younger sister and she judged me.  I ate a mini orange and drank another glass of water before I went to bed, but that did not stop me from having the worst hangover ever today.  It was so bad!!  I am never drinking that much again, ever.  I swear on my life.&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/5069915088624899434-510475197079515656?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/510475197079515656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=510475197079515656&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/510475197079515656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/510475197079515656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2010/01/why-is-this-going-so-slow.html' title='why is this going so slow?!'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6726965775871360547</id><published>2009-12-27T11:07:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T11:17:35.987-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>lucy in the sky with diamonds</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small; "&gt;I got my braces off on Wednesday, and then went to a party that night.  Not going to lie, I felt pretty great .. the lack of braces + no glasses + wearing a dress and makeup really did wonders.  It was a fun night!  I talked to a lot of people I haven't seen in a while, and Riley and I spent a lot of time just sitting on the couch and talking about anything.  What an easy conversation!  I really miss that.  On Christmas Eve, I just hung around the house a lot.  After church, my siblings and I played Settlers of Catan before going to bed.  My younger sister and I watched New Moon on my laptop at two in the morning, until I was way too tired to keep my eyes open.  That movie was so boring I had to go to sleep halfway through it!  Anyway.  Christmas was as good as Christmas can get.  My older sister got me a cardigan and a necklace, my parents and grandparents and aunt got me money, my brother got me mint chocolate, and my younger sister got me five non-judge cards and a disposable camera.  We played a lot of Beatles Rock Band (that game rules!) and then headed off to my aunt's house for Christmas dinner with all of my cousins.  During dinner my cousins kept refilling my glass of wine.  After that, we played Taboo, guys versus girls and it was hilarious.  My brother is pretty good at it!  Then our moms made us take a family picture on the stairs, which was a gong show.  We then all played Beatles Rock Band and it was crazy!  It was so weird to hear all of your cousins belting out Come Together, and everything like that.  But I loved it.  I also love when all my cousins get together and do something as a unit, kind of like when we were little and all played basketball during the summer.  What good times.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yesterday I went out shopping on 17th Ave with my younger sister.  We got some stuff from American Apparel, and then we went to Purr and everything was 50% off!  We both got winter jackets.  I helped her get eight dollars refunded when they accidentally overcharged for her jacket.  We met up with my older sister after and shopped again at Purr, and then went to Farm for a quick dessert.  I went to Amelia's house after dinner to hang out with Cailey, Mikki, Tess, and Amelia and to catch up.  We played a Harry Potter trivia game and then just talked a lot.  I found out some stuff about them I really didn't expect!  When I got home, my sisters all hung out in my older sister's room and talked for like two hours.  Which was really nice.  I love my sisters and they are so hilarious and honest.  This Christmas break rules.&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/5069915088624899434-6726965775871360547?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6726965775871360547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6726965775871360547&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6726965775871360547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6726965775871360547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/12/lucy-in-sky-with-diamonds.html' title='lucy in the sky with diamonds'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-323635194070950317</id><published>2009-12-23T00:28:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T00:32:43.747-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>well someone's a little cocky</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't feel drunk right now but I kind of am, well my head feels really heavy and I keep misspelling things.  Except the spell check red squiggly line always pops up so my writing is a lot more intelligent than I am right now.  I had a fish bowl, Irish car bomb, bottle cap, and one and a half beers tonight.  I should be called the champ because I am the champ at chugging drinks.  Seriously.  It was so much fun tonight seeing everyone again!  I did a lot of yelling.  And high fiving.  That car bomb wasn't as bad as the waitress made it out to be!  But yeah.  Secret Santa was really fun too, I got a nice gift from Paul; an American Apparel sweater and the CD I put on my wishlist.  Except the sweater is a little too big, so I"m going to exchange it for a different size.  Maybe a different style, I'm not sure yet.  Anyway.  Today was a good day, from going shopping with my sister to making cookies at Kim's house, to the hot pot and gift exchange to the bar.  Life has been really really good lately!  And I think they'll just keep on coming!&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/5069915088624899434-323635194070950317?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/323635194070950317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=323635194070950317&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/323635194070950317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/323635194070950317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/12/well-someones-little-cocky.html' title='well someone&apos;s a little cocky'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2684310874186432740</id><published>2009-12-22T00:43:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T00:48:43.688-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>i have the equipment for that</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small; "&gt;I went out for tea with Jessica today, it was the first time I've seen her since the second week of September!  We had a good long talk about drinking adventures and just random stuff in general.  I love hanging out with her!  I don't know why, but I always worry that we won't have anything to talk about, and every time I'm wrong.  She is just such a great person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;After we went into some stores in Kensington, and talked to Sheila while she was working, I headed back to the train station and met up with Grace to go to Kim's house for our Disney marathon.  We watched Toy Story!  And The Grinch Who Stole Christmas!  Then we popped open the sparkling wine Bonnie brought outside in her backyard, because we shook the bottle just to pop the cork.  It was freezing outside, but so beautiful.  We had some drinks, Bonnie showed off her Asian glow, and then we watched 101 Dalmations and finished it off with The Lion King.  Although we didn't get to finish either, because we spent some time talking about what's been going on with everyone.  Which was totally fine, I loved it either way.  I got home and found out that my anthro prof changed the grade distribution so my former B+ is actually an A-!  I was so happy!  I've got another busy day tomorrow, so I guess I'll head off to bed because it is already almost 1:00?!  Crazy.&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/5069915088624899434-2684310874186432740?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2684310874186432740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2684310874186432740&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2684310874186432740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2684310874186432740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-have-equipment-for-that.html' title='i have the equipment for that'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6568689078805887305</id><published>2009-12-21T02:43:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T02:48:56.328-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>nom nom nom</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I went over to Sheila's house today to get together with Natalie, Sheila, Amanda, Bronwyn, and Mikki for the first time since September.  That's a long time to not see your best friends!  But it was so much fun!  It was very comfortable, like a cozy blanket you pull out when it's cold outside.  Anyway.  We went out to the Christmas lights in Confederation Park to take pictures.  It was very cold.  Mikki wiped out in the snow twice.  The batteries in my camera died pretty fast.  We stood in teepees lined with Christmas lights and spun around while staring at the top of them, causing extreme dizziness and lots of crashing and falling.  We headed back to Sheila's house and ate corn dogs and drank hot chocolate.  We took cheesy Christmas portraits, and then Sheila's dad let us use his D3000 so we had a lot of fun taking modelesque photos.  I love taking pictures, and nice cameras, man oh man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I can't believe how soon Christmas is coming up!  I'm so glad I am done all of my exams, it's nice to not have to worry about that kind of stuff. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  many lives -&gt; 49 mp (live) - owen pallet*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;it's so weird that it's now under Owen Pallett, instead of Final Fantasy!  It's crazy!&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/5069915088624899434-6568689078805887305?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6568689078805887305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6568689078805887305&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6568689078805887305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6568689078805887305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/12/nom-nom-nom.html' title='nom nom nom'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3782160044793683046</id><published>2009-12-14T17:49:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T17:55:36.773-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>trying to keep this alive</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I think I have some stuff I want to remember, so I'm going to write it down here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yesterday I went with Mikki to Kaffa, and we stood at the door awkwardly waiting for Michael Bernard Fitzgerald to come meet us.  That was a fun hour!  He bought us tea/hot chocolate and we spent an hour just talking.  He is so easy to talk to.  I bet if we talked for longer, I would've managed to tell him my entire life story.  Embarrassing.  Anyway.  We talked about university, travelling (Mikki to Asia, him to Australia back in the day), snuggies (for people and dogs), Harry Potter, watching movies by yourself, Tiger Woods, driving bands in vans, cameras, Beatles Rock Band and video games, working, tight jeans, yogurt, and probably a lot more that I can't remember anymore.  He is a really nice guy.  I then went home and really tried to study, but I just kept getting distracted.  I stayed up until three in the morning trying to remember stuff about primates.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't want to remember what happened today.  My finals ... aren't going too great.  It's disappointing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;  this city's a mess - said the whale&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/5069915088624899434-3782160044793683046?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3782160044793683046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3782160044793683046&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3782160044793683046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3782160044793683046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/12/trying-to-keep-this-alive.html' title='trying to keep this alive'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3757213744103230560</id><published>2009-12-13T18:22:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T18:30:20.892-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facts about me'/><title type='text'>i'm allison,</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;I over think things to the point that they infect my dreams.  I am terrified of awkward situations and falling down stairs.  I appreciate people who make conversations easy.  I also appreciate good hugs.  If I love a song, I will play it 80 times in a row and still love it.  My favourite thing in life is photography.  I also golf, and I still like Tiger Woods.  When I say I love you I mean it, and when you break my heart it hurts a lot.  I've had a lot of people walk in and out of my life, so I find it hard to trust people.  Sometimes I'm not even sure if I trust myself anymore.  Sometimes I have no idea what I'm feeling.  There are certain songs that will make me want to cry.  I don't know what my life is turning out to be, but I guess nobody knows.  I should be studying for my anthropology/calculus finals tomorrow, but I am a procrastinator.  I can remember very specific points of my life, and sometimes it disappoints me when the person I share the memory with doesn't remember.  I am an awkward person and I'm not really sure why anyone is friends with me.  The end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt; suzie (i love you) - michael bernard fitzgerald&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/5069915088624899434-3757213744103230560?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3757213744103230560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3757213744103230560&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3757213744103230560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3757213744103230560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/12/im-allison.html' title='i&apos;m allison,'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-8415825787154814483</id><published>2009-12-12T00:28:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T00:43:21.234-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreaming'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writing for the sake of writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>weird stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small; "&gt;I've been having weird dreams lately.  Well, I don't really think they're dreams .. they are more like conversations with people that parallel reality but aren't actually true.  I had a conversation with Cailey via text messages, even though a) my phone wasn't turned on and b) I was sleeping.  I think she was apologizing for not replying to my text the pervious night.  Another dream I had was that I didn't win the photo contest that Michael Bernard Fitzgerald had, and that some guy with a lame photo won instead.  Except that he wasn't announcing winners until this evening, and this dream took place this morning.  Seriously, brain, what's going on?  Is it all the studying?  I'm actually doing some, which is a relief because if midterms taught me anything, it's that I procrastinate A LOT and even when I think I'm doing lots, I'm doing nothing.  I actually set myself up this time around so I can't access any website that would promote my procrastinating, which has lead to countless hours of studying.  Yes!  This thought is so run on, but that might be because it's 12:32 am.  Also, I tend to think in this way.  I had my computer science final this evening, and I really hope it went alright.  I didn't have any time to check over because I had just managed to finish writing my program for the second written question.  Which I did wrong!  Which I didn't really know what I was doing and kinda just wrote something that made sense in my mind but might not make sense in real life!  Agh!  Computer science is such a hard test to write because over the year you get so use to writing all of your scripts on your computer, and so it catches all of your errors.  When you write the actual exam, though, you have to make your brain the computer and process it.  Which makes figuring out stuff like recursion hard!  And syntax stuff!  And even simple math makes me nervous!  I just hope that the bell curve really plays on my side, and that I pass this course.  If I was really setting my goals up high, I would hope for an A- but that is pretty lofty.  I am hoping for A-'s in calc and anthropology, though.  And maybe math 211.  They are pretty doable.  I need:  an 85 on my calc final, a 90 on my anthro, and probably an 85 on my linear algebra exam.  This weekend is going to be hardcore!  Non-stop studying for two subjects at once, and then a three hour review session at the university to hopefully help me understand what the heck is going on with derivatives and integration!  Because honestly, even though I understood it all no problem last year, my professor likes to take crazy numbers and transform them like nothin' cause it somehow works!  And I don't know why!  So hopefully this helps me out.  I scraped a 72 on my calc midterm with pretty much no studying, so I feel like 85 is attainable.  Nay, 90 is attainable!  I'm going to ace this stinkin' test!  There are a lot of exclamation points going on in this ridiculously long, run on paragraph.  Anyway.  I also need to maximize my studying tomorrow (which is actually today, because it is 12:39 am .. seriously.  I am bad at going to bed early.) because on Sunday, I'm going to go have tea with Mikalina and Michael Bernard Fitzgerald.  Because I did win that photo contest!  Well, top five.  I wonder how many people actually entered that contest ... actually no I don't.  Well I do.  I'm also wondering if the other winners will be in on this tea date too, because that'd be weird.  Also, I am nervous for this encounter.  I'm bad at not being awkward, and I'm scared of awkward situations.  What is going to happen?!  I don't know!  I hope that I am charming and I present myself in a non-stupid manner.  Maybe we will become friends!  That would be fun.  I feel bad for not owning any of his CDs .. his concert back at the beginning of the month was really good though!  Hmm hmm hmm.  Anyway.  This is a sad excuse for an update on this blog that I now forget to update.  Remember when I used to blog excessively?  Nah, you don't.  Back then there were two people who always read this blog!  Now there are zero!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt; gold guns girls - metric&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/5069915088624899434-8415825787154814483?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/8415825787154814483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=8415825787154814483&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8415825787154814483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8415825787154814483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/12/weird-stuff.html' title='weird stuff'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5685704168551560330</id><published>2009-11-29T21:27:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T21:35:59.274-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><title type='text'>how is school going?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;I surf the internet and play Wacky Wheels in archaeology, but I still go to class because of Bronwyn.  I can't understand my TA for computer science very well, and it's hard for me to concentrate during tutorials.  I feel like I have no clue how to do calculus when my professor teaches it.  I like learning linear algebra, but the homework assignments are confusing and I spend a lot of time trying to teach my friend how to do it.  During lectures I always drift in and out of sleep for minutes at a time.  I like my anthropology professor, and he makes learning about monkeys pretty interesting.  I have fallen asleep numerous times in my computer science lecture, and I haven't read the online textbook since the beginning of the semester.  I leave my computer science assignments until two days before it is due, and then I email my TA for help and panic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I spend breaks in between class hanging out with people and not studying.  When I have breaks where I don't find anybody, I end up going on the internet instead of doing anything productive, like finishing homework or studying (even though finals are only a week and a half away).  When I go home and go on the internet (yet again), or I play Rock Band with my siblings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;My work ethic is definitely all wrong for university.  I find it extremely hard to sit down and study.  For example, I currently have my archeology textbook open in front of me.  I have read three pages in the past half an hour.  I never go to bed before 11:30, even though I really want to go to sleep at 10 since I am sleepy all the time.  I get a lot of help from other people.  I'm not doing terrible in any of my classes, but I'm not doing the best and it's weird, because during the past twelve years of my education, I always tried to be the best.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; maybe sparrow - neko case&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/5069915088624899434-5685704168551560330?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5685704168551560330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5685704168551560330&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5685704168551560330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5685704168551560330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-is-school-going.html' title='how is school going?'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-4754810355826054013</id><published>2009-11-28T01:30:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T01:38:41.974-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>the way i see it</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small; "&gt;Sometimes I wish my heart would just explode so I wouldn't have to deal with all these feelings anymore.  I am still in love with you but I don't want to be!  I don't want to care about you anymore, because you don't care about me.  I'm in the worst bind, between wanting to see you all the time, or wanting to completely ignore you.  Most of the time I choose the latter, because that's just the way I am.  I am so sick of being reminded of how good we used to be, but when you told me you thought those letters were incredible, that made me feel good about myself.  Stop confusing me!  Stop making this all so much harder!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You made your choice a year and three months ago.  You can't expect me to be the same person I was way back then.  I'm trying harder and harder not to care if you miss me or not, because &lt;i&gt;you let me go&lt;/i&gt;.  You didn't want me!  And now I don't want you.&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/5069915088624899434-4754810355826054013?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/4754810355826054013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=4754810355826054013&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4754810355826054013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4754810355826054013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/11/way-i-see-it.html' title='the way i see it'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-269606679717442043</id><published>2009-11-17T22:03:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T12:12:27.896-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>things that are irritating</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;How often the phrase "poorly understood" was used in a chapter of my archaeology textbook.  Seriously, you couldn't think of any other way to say that?  You, sir, are a great author.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Emails from people in my anthropology class asking for notes.  In my English class in grade twelve, we all had to have homework buddies who we would ask about things we missed.  Make a friend and just exchange notes amongst yourselves!  I don't want to send you my non-existent notes and I don't want emails asking for them!  The worst is when they ask you about dates for exams, or what chapters exams will be on.  Everything is posted, look it up yourselves!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Computer science assignments&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Contacts.  They irritate my eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;People who talk in my calculus class.  The professor is already really quiet, I don't need you talking about non-math-related things when I am already struggling with understanding what she is saying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I stayed up until three in the morning last night studying calculus, and the quiz was super easy and that sucked a little.  I still need to learn how to prioritize and focus on school.  I'm hoping that the anthropology test went alright, please please please be at least 80!  During my math lab I talked to Cailey on Skype, I miss her a lot!  We have plans to go to a pub and eat wings and drink cheap beer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;School is really stressful, and there are so many things going on at once that most of the time I feel like I can't handle it.  I am really scared that I won't be able to do my computer science assignment.  I need to stick to my plan and work on it for an hour before the tutorial tomorrow.  And then my TA can discuss it and hopefully give me some idea as to how to do it.  And if all else fails, I'll ask Bronwyn's friend and pray that this all works out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I really can't wait for Christmas break.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt; love is simple - akron/family&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/5069915088624899434-269606679717442043?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/269606679717442043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=269606679717442043&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/269606679717442043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/269606679717442043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/11/things-that-are-irritating.html' title='things that are irritating'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-8517805938955679199</id><published>2009-11-14T21:09:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T21:13:34.060-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><title type='text'>a good long break</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I spent the whole day trying to memorize primate taxonomy.  Sportive lemurs are in the subfamily Lepilemurinae, family Lemuridae, superfamily Lemuroidea, infraorder Lemuriformes, suborder Prosimii.  WHAT NOW!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Anyways, I'm heading out to Vinyl to get my party on.  You know what I hate?  Cover!!  That's ten bucks that I could spend on beer.  Sad face.&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/5069915088624899434-8517805938955679199?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/8517805938955679199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=8517805938955679199&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8517805938955679199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8517805938955679199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/11/good-long-break.html' title='a good long break'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5891884735961051724</id><published>2009-11-12T21:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T21:33:28.512-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>ONLY FORTY ONE MORE DAYS?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;Exciting!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to&lt;/b&gt;: twilight galaxy - metric&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/5069915088624899434-5891884735961051724?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5891884735961051724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5891884735961051724&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5891884735961051724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5891884735961051724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/11/only-forty-one-more-days.html' title='ONLY FORTY ONE MORE DAYS?'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-343738346441852444</id><published>2009-11-07T00:44:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T00:46:48.212-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>daily things</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt;Last night I went to see Said The Whale with Lindsay and Sarah.  This evening I went to the Just For Laughs show with Bronwyn and Sheila.  Said The Whale was really good, I enjoyed the harmonizing.  Just For Laughs was hilarious, I couldn't stop smiling.  I guess I finally have to buckle down and start studying for my calculus midterm.  Which, might I add, is on Monday.  Yikes!&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/5069915088624899434-343738346441852444?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/343738346441852444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=343738346441852444&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/343738346441852444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/343738346441852444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/11/daily-things.html' title='daily things'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-7743118641419416413</id><published>2009-10-24T14:53:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T14:59:28.826-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>supersonic</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I still think about you all the time, I still love you.  Those words still feel so real.&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/5069915088624899434-7743118641419416413?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/7743118641419416413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=7743118641419416413&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7743118641419416413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7743118641419416413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/10/supersonic.html' title='supersonic'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6950716111632191261</id><published>2009-09-29T22:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T22:38:52.424-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commitments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writing for the sake of writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Golf'/><title type='text'>sick</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small; "&gt;I remember a time when I used to have to refrain from blogging more than once a day.  Now I'm struggling to blog once a month.  But this is the time when I need to remember what's going on!  This is the prime of my life ... I think.  It feels like it should be.  Nobody really uses Blogger, though.  Maybe I need an audience because really, even though I'm just so super self conscious, sometimes I just like attention.  I'm pretty hypocritical.  I think about these things in my mind, about the kind of people annoy me and then I realize that these people are me, from a previous time.  I'm growing up and away, and I don't know how I feel about this.  I miss when I used to have thoughts just flowing through my mind all the time.  Now I'm just lazy.  Lazy and tired.  I told myself that I'd go to bed at 10:30 tonight because I always stay up way too late to be alright for school the next day, but it never happens.  Well I am going to write this and then go to bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'm just going to do a short recap of what's been going on:  I went to Final Fantasy last night, I was a little skeptical about going because I already saw him in June and I'm sick and I'm really, really busy this week but then the thought that it was FINAL FANTASY overruled.  And thank goodness, he was absolutely amazing.  He's the kind of guy who you need to stare at, because he is so beautiful, and because his sound is so beautiful, and the fact that he's doing a million and one things at once up on that stage just leaves you in so much awe.  I can't wait for his new album, it is going to be so great.  All of his songs are fantastic.  Umm besides that I went to the clinic today to get diagnosed with a bad cold, which is good because at least it's only a bad cold, but bad because it's a bad cold.  Sometimes I think colds are the worst because all you can do really is wait it out while you have a stuffy nose and a sore throat.  And that's just the worst because it is so freaking uncomfortable.  I didn't go to school today.  I just sat at my desk with my blanket and studied, which is good because I actually think I got a lot more done than if I went to my classes.  Except hopefully I'm not too far behind in math.  Things I did today: one chapter for archaeology, calculus review, most of my linear algebra questions, and just the slightest bit of studying for anthropology.  Then I called it a day and watched all of my TV shows.  I'm hoping that this one day of rest was good for me, seeing as I've been busy every single other day and my weekends aren't really weekends anymore .. well they are but I'm not at home and I'm still super busy and stressed.  Golf is sucking right now.  Well the people aren't but my game is.  It's really frustrating.  I need to get better or I'm just going to be really depressed.  Um but yeah I just want to get better so that I at least do not feel like uttermost crap in Idaho, and I don't cause every single one of my teammates to catch my cold.  We're sharing a bus for eight hours, you know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So yeah .. 10:36.  I guess I'll go to bed.  The things on my to-do list feel like they are never getting checked off.  Like if I'm always doing work but it's never going away.  I guess I just got to keep my head down and grind it out.  I need to work hard.  I need to earn this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I think life is good?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:  &lt;/b&gt;took you two years to win my heart - final fantasy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&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/5069915088624899434-6950716111632191261?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6950716111632191261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6950716111632191261&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6950716111632191261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6950716111632191261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/09/sick.html' title='sick'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6763480603641580560</id><published>2009-09-27T22:41:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T11:20:05.754-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Golf'/><title type='text'>let's hug it out</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:georgia, serif;font-size:small;"&gt;I really enjoy being on the golf team.  This weekend was really fun, despite the fact that I am still playing kinda shitty and my throat feels like it's swollen to twice its size.  It is painful.  But anyways .. one of the guys' birthdays was on Saturday, so after our round we got ready and headed out first to a pub called Mojo's (we were in Lethbridge, by the way) to watch the preseason hockey game.  Kenny just kept getting shot after shot after shot.  We estimated that he drank probably fifteen.  Tim got Katie and me (since we are rookies) "initiation shots" that tasted like candy.  He then bought us each another drink.  Mine was a double vodka with lime .. which was pretty good.  That plus the shot plus a previous shot beforehand made me kind of tipsy.  After we paid our massive bill and Kenny puked on the ground, Lauren, Blake, Katie, Ashley, and I went to the McDonald's drive-thru to get some food.  We ended up sitting on a bench in the lobby chowing down.  Blake or Ashley found a random bag of chips in a bed of flowers so we ate some of those.  After the McFlurries, cheeseburgers, and fries were finished, we went to the club in our hotel.  It was such a blast .. we were dancing, and a couple of the guys bought us two more shots (one was pretty gross with cinnamon in it).  Tim kept yelling at me that I was the shit.  Katie and I headed back to the hotel at one in the morning, I downed five glasses of water, and woke up fine.  My game was slightly better but I really need to improve.  Honestly.  Katie and I got driven home by Blake with Kenny, and they kept picking up on random parts of our conversations, which were already really random.  It was a blast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;So yeah .. that plus the fact that the girls think the things I say are hilarious make me like them a lot.  Hopefully I go to Idaho next weekend because it's so much fun being around them.&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/5069915088624899434-6763480603641580560?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6763480603641580560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6763480603641580560&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6763480603641580560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6763480603641580560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/09/lets-hug-it-out.html' title='let&apos;s hug it out'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3545994800665719828</id><published>2009-09-12T22:42:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T22:47:49.867-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facts about me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Golf'/><title type='text'>while you wait for the others</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;I guess now that I'm eighteen, I'm discovering that I'm not the biggest fan of clubs, or of drinking.  It is probably because of the fact that I am Asian, therefore cheap.  And clubs and drinks are expensive.  But anyways.  Lots of my friends are finding it weird that I didn't get drunk on my birthday, and that I have not gotten drunk ever, but maybe it's nicer this way.  I am much more introverted than I thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Also, I met a cute guy yesterday, who kept smiling and saying hi to me at golf tryouts.  And then, just out of chance, he was sitting in my computer science lecture all alone.  I was so choked when we realized that he was supposed to be in the room next door; I didn't even get to know his name!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;But, I'm keeping my hopes up.  We're in neighboring lecture rooms on Fridays at the least.  And hopefully he made the golf team as well!  A nice engineer-golfer-boy who wears skinny pants and has a really great smile and is super nice .. how often does that come along?&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/5069915088624899434-3545994800665719828?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3545994800665719828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3545994800665719828&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3545994800665719828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3545994800665719828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/09/while-you-wait-for-others.html' title='while you wait for the others'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5731727191923612123</id><published>2009-08-22T01:26:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T01:28:41.169-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>it always hurts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You say you've been waiting to hang out with me all summer, but you have a girlfriend and I'm really nobody.  Plus, you don't even remember when my birthday is and that was the last time you really loved me (well this might not even be true) before you broke my heart.  I call bullshit.&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/5069915088624899434-5731727191923612123?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5731727191923612123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5731727191923612123&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5731727191923612123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5731727191923612123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/08/it-always-hurts.html' title='it always hurts'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-1913482482621741511</id><published>2009-08-20T22:50:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T22:53:06.160-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>just because</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I deleted over two hundreds friends because hardly know most of them, or never communicate with them on Facebook, deleted countless of statuses because they now sounded stupid, deleted over forty videos and hundreds of photo albums because they are irrelevant and redundant and there are just too many&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;and because my sisters told me that it makes me seem obnoxious.&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/5069915088624899434-1913482482621741511?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/1913482482621741511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=1913482482621741511&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1913482482621741511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1913482482621741511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/08/just-because.html' title='just because'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-8096077475876710039</id><published>2009-08-18T23:22:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T22:04:31.971-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Golf'/><title type='text'>note to self</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"I want a piece of chicken with a lot of barbecue sauce.  Oh wait, I'm wearing white."  I then wore a paper napkin around my neck and covered my shorts with the table cloth.  I'm just dripping with class.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Alana said that she was going to get a glass of pop, so I asked for one as well.  She returned with an empty glass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;When my name was announced for winning second low gross in my flight, they pronounced my name "Alyssa Set-o".   When they were taking a picture of us, they were trying to get us to stand closer and Alana yelled, "c'mon, squish in there Alyssa!"  It took me a while to realize she was talking to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;There was a paper trimmer in the middle of all of the prizes on the table, and immediately I knew I wanted that to be my prize.  When they finally got around to the draw prize, the second girl who went up took the paper trimmer.  I was the third.  My friends laughed so hard at me.  When the girl realized I actually wanted the paper trimmer, she traded her prize for mine, so I got the paper trimmer.  "I am going to trim SO much paper with this!" Then a lady came up and told me that it wasn't actually a prize; somebody owned it and it was about five or six years old.  So I had to give back the paper trimmer and get a new prize.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Kristina picked a prize bag with a bag of cement and a sleeve of shitty balls.  We thought that it was a joke prize so we opened the bag of cement ... to find a block of instant drying cement in there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Cities was a lot of fun this year.  I can be such an idiot most of the time.&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/5069915088624899434-8096077475876710039?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/8096077475876710039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=8096077475876710039&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8096077475876710039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8096077475876710039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/08/note-to-self.html' title='note to self'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2948048083025418531</id><published>2009-07-28T13:57:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T14:13:01.573-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>folk fest memory #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;When we were in the beer garden, Tori and I were sitting by the porta-potties waiting for Theresa and Mika to buy drinks.  We were talking when I saw Michael Bernard Fitzgerald walk into one of the porta-potties, and since Tori had just told me that she loved him I persuaded her to talk to him after he got out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So, as soon as he left the porta-potty, still wiping his hands with sanitizer, Tori booked it towards him and had a drunken conversation about how she loved him and how he was so cute.  Shortly after Theresa and Mika came back, and when I pointed to Mika that Tori was talking to Michael, she, also drunk, ran towards him and yelled that he was Michael Bernard Fitzgerald.  Many pictures were taken, and Mika tried to give him her phone number (when I told her she should).  It was great. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  four night rider - the rural alberta advantage&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/5069915088624899434-2948048083025418531?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2948048083025418531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2948048083025418531&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2948048083025418531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2948048083025418531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/07/folk-fest-memory-1.html' title='folk fest memory #1'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3071009911869707833</id><published>2009-07-17T21:25:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T21:35:11.301-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commitments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Golf'/><title type='text'>88-92-87-84</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;It's so weird when it's summer, it's like if I shelve one part of myself away and pull out another side of me.  Everyone from school disappears, and I'm super chums with everyone I golf with.  I love seeing my golf friends, because we only get two months of tournaments to hang out with each other for an hour, two hours tops - unless we get a tee time together.  Which is pretty rare.  Which makes it more fun, because it's not like we know each other inside out; it's like if every time we hang out, there's an explosion of new things that happened, new golf stories, new tidbits about each other that we never knew before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yesterday at the banquet I sat with Mandy, Kylie, Janelle, Casara, and Jen.  It was so funny; Mandy is so eccentric sometimes.  I had some amusing conversations and moments; waiting for our pasta was an adventure on its own.  Describing our pre-swing routines was also another moment that made me feel like dying of laughter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Today was pretty amazing because I got to play with Ali - something that is quite rare.  We are such a gong show when we're together; sometimes it's hard to stay serious because I know that if I look at her I'll laugh.  But it definitely made the mood of the game today so much lighter; we joked around about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; so everything wasn't such a big deal.  I think that helped my game, because I played pretty well except for one hole.  And we didn't come in dead last!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So I'm not going to nationals, which was extremely upsetting and disappointing when my dad first told me about it.  I mean, it was going to be the highlight of my summer - travelling to the other side of the country to play on a beautiful course, all by myself.  But then I thought about it a bit more.  It's expensive; it would be scary going all by myself; I honestly don't think I am a good enough golfer to go out there and actually be proud of my scores.  So although I really, really wanted to do this, I'm not anymore.  But it'll be okay, because then I get to hang out with the majority of my golf friends who aren't going to nationals, and we'll have a lot of fun.  I still get to go to Vancouver with my family.  I'll get to maybe hang out with some of my school friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And maybe I can ask for the Macbook now!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  sure can start - two hours traffic&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/5069915088624899434-3071009911869707833?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3071009911869707833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3071009911869707833&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3071009911869707833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3071009911869707833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/07/88-92-87-84.html' title='88-92-87-84'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-1973999641935667013</id><published>2009-07-10T22:12:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T22:14:27.452-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writing for the sake of writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facts about me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>honesty</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sometimes I wish that I could die in a car crash, just so I could give up without actually giving up myself.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"What a shame," they'd say, "she had years to look forward to."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;But I think I would be happy.&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/5069915088624899434-1973999641935667013?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/1973999641935667013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=1973999641935667013&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1973999641935667013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1973999641935667013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/07/honesty.html' title='honesty'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-1502910240740227273</id><published>2009-07-05T17:44:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T17:44:31.254-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>i just want to be over</title><content type='html'>you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-1502910240740227273?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/1502910240740227273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=1502910240740227273&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1502910240740227273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1502910240740227273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-just-want-to-be-over.html' title='i just want to be over'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-67236986710911825</id><published>2009-06-28T14:54:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T18:05:47.414-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>i wrote some witty banter</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Volunteered at the mainstage at Olympic Plaza, which consisted of sitting by the exit, telling people it was an exit and not an entrance, and getting yelled at by a Native American for not letting him in without a festival pass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;HOLY FUCK was .. holy fuck.  So good.  One of the best live acts ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Went over to The Loose Moose Theatre with Mikki, and it was surprisingly really good.  There are some kids my age who really know how to play guitar and sing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Volunteered at Artlife on Saturday, which consisted of helping put up posters for the poster show and sitting down to listen to some amazing female singers.  One of my favorites was Foonyap, who played violin/mandobird (sp?)/sang for Woodpigeon on Thursday.  She was so hilarious, and I don't even think she was trying to be.  My favorite song by her was the one about falling in love with a bicycle.  Followed by the one about falling in love with a robot.  The Doer and the Doddler was amazing, actually they all had such beautiful voices that soared and filled up the room and my soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ran into Morgan Greenwood at Artlife, he mistakened me for my sister but after we talked for a bit before he went with Knots to go get something to eat.  Then I ran into Austin from BRAIDS because Raphie was playing (as INDIENSOCI) but he was about to leave as well.  Oh and ran into Katie Lee and she convinced me to try and get into the HiFi to watch BRAIDS play.  INDIENSOCI played a sweet pop song as the last song of her set.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Walked over to The Palomino for the all-ages show and had a super garlic-y salad.  Seriously, there were massive chunks of garlic just there.  It burned my mouth and so I couldn't finish it.  So a big negative there .. especially since I paid $12.00 for that.  Oh but saw Jessica and Arielle there!  Had a good lunch with them before Jessica had to go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Brain Fever .. wasn't really my style of music, and when the (small) crowd started moshing, I got kicked in the shin and it hurts.  But the band after them was really good .. Keith was playing bass in it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Went to the HiFi alone because Mikki didn't think she could get in, and Kirsten ended up not being able to go.  I borrowed my sister's passport and holy crap I was so nervous.  The bouncer asked me for a birth certificate, and then I freaked out a little inside and asked if a passport was okay.  He said that actually a passport was better than a license, took a good look at the passport and at me, and then let me through.  I ran into Robin inside!  We talked a lot about the other shows we went to and had a good time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;BRAIDS took a while to set up, which sucked a little because their set ended up being so short.  They played four songs; three were new and one was Lemonade.  It was really great, even though it ended earlier than I thought it would.  I really hope they play Calgary in August.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Robin and I left after BRAIDS to go to the Warehouse.  Got in there as well (thank god I look like my sister), and it was so hot in there.  Githead was really good, then HEALTH played and were so energetic.  Finally Holy Fuck went on.  Robin, Tyler, and I were at the very front and at one point Graham Walsh's bum was right in my face while he was setting up.  That's how close were were.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Holy Fuck was CRAZY!  It was a million times more amazing than at Olympic Plaza because we were all just dancing and it was just the way the music made you feel .. I was just so happy the whole time they were playing.  There were a lot of moshers so I kept having to push back using the stage just so I could stand straight, and it was so hot and sweaty but I loved it. And then I shook Brian Borcherdt's hand after the set.  What a great way to end the festival.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-67236986710911825?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/67236986710911825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=67236986710911825&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/67236986710911825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/67236986710911825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-wrote-some-witty-banter.html' title='i wrote some witty banter'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-178183699062731679</id><published>2009-06-26T00:32:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T00:44:26.634-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>i sampled my voice</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Front row, almost directly in front of Final Fantasy.  He was funny, charming, and such a talented musician.  He played The Sea, The Butcher, Many Lives --&gt; 49MP, Flare Gun, He Poos Clouds, and This Lamb Sells Condos along with many new songs.  He then came back for an encore and giddily played What Do You Think Will Happen Next when somebody requested it, and The CN Tower Belongs To The Dead.  He set up by himself so "even if you thought the set was bad, at least you can't call him lazy!"  And showed us the sampling he did of his voice on his keyboard when trying to find the right setting.  I want to be his friend so badly!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Lined up for the Knots/Rural Alberta Advantage/Woodpigeon/Mount Eerie show way too early, but met a guy who was really cool and interesting to talk to.  It turned out that he used to play for The Grim Beat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Because I lined up so early, I was first in the church and I got a spot front and center.  Dead center.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Knots' voice is really good, I think he was a bit nervous though because he kept messing up his guitar playing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Rural Alberta Advantage!  I had never heard them but they were really good.  I love a good drum beat, it's even better when there are two going on at once.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Woodpigeon also rocked, I love their harmonies and when whistling gets looped!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Everyone was waiting for Mount Eerie because he had never played in Calgary before.  He has a really, really nice voice.  It's smooth and raw and just so genuine.  He is also a really funny guy, who talked about Michael Jackson and ended the show exactly when it was supposed to end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;My exams are done!  And I finished with a 92 in calculus so things are fine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;willow tree - chad vangaalen&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/5069915088624899434-178183699062731679?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/178183699062731679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=178183699062731679&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/178183699062731679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/178183699062731679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-sampled-my-voice.html' title='i sampled my voice'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-8261077773183841202</id><published>2009-06-21T00:36:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T00:41:39.797-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facts about me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellaneous'/><title type='text'>quenching your curiosity</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Would the 10 year old you be happy to see where you're at today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'm more or less the same person as I was seven years ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What did you last write an essay on?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Truth and idealism.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Is there anything you keep forgetting to do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yeah .. which is why I owe so many people so much money.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;If you were kicked out of your current house, where would you go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Mikalina's house, most likely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you have a reason to smile right now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Lots.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are you looking forward to anything?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Is there any boy or girl worth fighting for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;He's worth it, but I'm not fighting for him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Would you rather have knowledge or wisdom?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Wisdom is utilizing knowledge, so I would rather have wisdom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;If you could see any band in concert, who would it be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Hmm there are a lot of bands I would want to see.  But if it was ANY band, I would want to see Broken Social Scene.  Full lineup.  With Chad VanGaalen opening because that would rule so hard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do happy endings exist in your world?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The only happy ending is death.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you learn from your mistakes or find yourself constantly repeating them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I think I learn from my mistakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you believe that all members of the opposite sex are basically the same?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No, everybody is unique.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Admit it, you love postsecret.com, don’t you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I do love it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What is one quality that you really appreciate in a person?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I really love people who can say the things you need to hear at the right time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;At the good old general store, what particular kind of candy would you expect to be in the big jar at the counter?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Those Coca Cola candies.  I'm not really a big fan of candy in general.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What's the most messed up food combination that you've had that was actually good?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't necessarily mix up my food.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What's something that always makes you feel better about yourself?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Hugs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you feel more comfortable, in general, in the presence of males or females?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I feel more comfortable around certain people, regardless of gender.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What is your biggest annoyance about the people that go to your school?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So much drama.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What compliments do you receive most often regarding your physical appearance?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;My hair.  Although I just cut it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What song describes you perfectly?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The Season by The Dodos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you find out who is knocking before you actually open the door?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yeah, there is a window on my door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Think back to the last person you held hands with, would you kiss them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;If I was holding hands with them, I was probably really comfortable with that person .. so I would, on the cheek.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;If you were a doll, the accessories packaged with me would be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sunglasses, coloured pants, and shoes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I have a fear of:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Falling down stairs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Has a girl sat on your bed before?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who is the funniest person you know?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Gah so many to choose from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are you afraid to grow up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Not really, it's inevitable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What is your worst subject in school?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Biology, hands down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Have you ever been around someone who was high?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Probably.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What is something you wish you had more of?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Time and understanding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;When was the last time you cried?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Probably a couple weeks ago .. I hit a real low.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Last person you saw other than your family?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Er .. my extended family.  Other than that, my manager.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you wash your hair in the shower?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yeah, it's easier than in the sink.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you have someone who you can completely be yourself around?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;There are some people I am so myself around that it's almost embarassing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are you usually the first to say you're sorry in a fight or last?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It depends on what we are fighting about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Anything you want to say to someone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;There are lots of things I want to say to someone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Honestly how many people have you truly fallen for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;One.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;How many times do you talk on the phone a day on average?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;On average, zero.  Point one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you think you could forgive someone who murdered your family?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Negatory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What's the most important part of a relationship in your opinion?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;If you could pack up and move away right now, would you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No, I love my family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;How was your day?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Long.  Also, a lot of people asked me that today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What's your current problem?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;There is not enough time to balance golf and friends.  Also, I haven't really studied for my calculus exam yet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you have a best friend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What are your outlooks on gay/bisexual relationships?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Whatevs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Does someone have a crush on you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;That is doubtful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you and your best friend have a song?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Chad VanGaalen is pretty much the soundtrack to our friendship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Have you ever done anything illegal?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yes but it wasn't that illegal haha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Was your new years enjoyable?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'm pretty sure it was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who was the last person to play with your hair?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Uh .. can't remember.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Think of the last person you kissed, have you cried in their arms?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Now think of the person you kissed before that last person, did you cry in their arms?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No, I don't really cry in people's arms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What's one thing you do when you're mad?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Clench my teeth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;When is the last time you saw number 2 on your top friends?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who's number two?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who's on your mind right now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Nobody.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;How do you feel about your hair right now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'm growing to like it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Where were you at midnight last night?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Hanging out in my room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;How many 20 dollar bills do you have on you now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Zero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What does the tenth text in your inbox say, and who from?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Haha its cuz you felt obligated to surrounded by all those nerdy people" - Nancy, regarding my studying habits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who was the last person you shot a dirty look at?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;My sister.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Did anyone yell at you today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;More like angrily talking to me .. my sister.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who did you spend your summer with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;My last summer?  Gavin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Have you ever had a best friend who was of the opposite sex?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What are you doing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;This quiz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Most annoying thing in your life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You're, your, their, there, they're, to, too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Have you ever thought you liked someone and then found out that you really didn't?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Nope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you drink water?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;SHOOT!  I forgot my water bottle at work!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you think someone is thinking about you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who would want to think of me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you care if people hate you for no reason?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What do you want?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;To be in the top ten for the poster contest .. so badly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What were you doing at seven this morning?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Checking my iPod for the time and going back to sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Would you ever get a tattoo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Possibly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are you stubborn?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sometimes I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you have more than 1 best friend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Has someone ever called you beautiful?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yes!  It made me really happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Will you be in a relationship in 4 months?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't look that far ahead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you straighten your hair often?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Negatory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who did you spend most of your time with last night?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Cecilia, Maggie, and Julia!  It was a fun time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you like to make the first move?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No, I'm such a chicken!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Kiss with eyes open or closed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Closed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you like messages or comments better?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Messages.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What are you drinking?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Nothing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Which do you bite more, your lips, tongue, or your finger nails?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;My lip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you have empty alcohol bottles hidden anywhere?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No I don't drink.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Where is your ex right now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No idea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who did you talk to on the phone last/why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Bronwyn, we were going to go watch a movie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What are the chances of you having the person you like?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The same as being hit by a shooting star.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you think you'll have the same best friends a year from now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I hope!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are you physically weak or strong?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Strong, I think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;How many people could you not live without?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Most of them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are you okay with making a total fool of yourself?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Around the right people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Would you go into public looking like you do now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Uh it would look a bit strange.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Pick a word that begins with the first letter of your first name?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Allowed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Where will you be in an hour?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;In bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What makes you happy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Mikalina.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What was your favorite childhood TV show?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I think it was Sesame Street.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who did you have your last deep conversation with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I think it might've been Bronwyn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you enjoy late night conversations?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I never really have late night conversations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you like your bed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It is the best place in the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you know what you're going to wear tomorrow?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Uh no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;How many hours of sleep did you get yesterday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Seven and a half.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;How are you feeling?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Tired as heck!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are you an argumentative person?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Depends on who I am around. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What kind of pants are you wearing at the moment?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Gym shorts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What is the color of the shirt you're wearing right now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Black.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What is the date two days after your birthday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;September 8th.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What is your least favorite color?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't really know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you blow dry your hair?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yes I hate leaving my hair wet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are there any products in your hair currently?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No I don't really do anything to my hair ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Can you see a stuffed animal from where you're sitting?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Negatory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Have you taken a shower today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are you one of those people who never drink pop?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No, I like pop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Were you single on your last birthday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are there any stressful situations in your life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Have you done anything stupid lately?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Not really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are you a loud person?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Around certain people at certain times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Where is the boy/girl you like now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Nonexisting somewhere in the land of nonexistence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Were you happy when you woke up today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Probably not, because I was waking up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Where is your dad?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Downstairs, probably sleeping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Would you date someone with piercings/tattoos?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Depends on what/where.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you trust all of your friends?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Only a handful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Are you a rude person?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't try to be.&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/5069915088624899434-8261077773183841202?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/8261077773183841202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=8261077773183841202&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8261077773183841202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8261077773183841202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/06/quenching-your-curiosity.html' title='quenching your curiosity'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5536284860864927206</id><published>2009-06-16T11:11:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T11:13:58.449-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>summer! summer! summer!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;- Sled Island!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;- Working&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;- Golfing at Country Hills&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;- Golfing at tournaments&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;- Folk Fest!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;- Golfing in New Brunswick (hopefully!!!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;- Fam vacation in Vancouver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;- Pictures!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;- Friends?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  burn 2 ash - chad vangaalen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-5536284860864927206?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5536284860864927206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5536284860864927206&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5536284860864927206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5536284860864927206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/06/summer-summer-summer.html' title='summer! summer! summer!'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-7082629996837236386</id><published>2009-06-11T23:56:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T01:48:02.708-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writing for the sake of writing'/><title type='text'>i like to write</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;It's honestly the only way I feel like I can actually admit everything in my brain.  There is just such a beauty in being able to express yourself fully without being interrupted, and without having to care about what others will think until two days later when you realize you're an idiot.  Sometimes when I'm talking, I feel like such an idiot because I can't ever think fast enough to coherently complete a sentence, and I always stumble over all of my words.  But anyway.  I got my short story back, and I am so proud of it.  I love that story so much, and I actually cannot believe that I wrote it.  I want to show it to everyone, not because I want to boast it but for some reason I just want to keep collecting everyone's opinions on it, I want to create a small pool of others' thoughts.  I've never felt so good about something in my life; whenever I do something, like take a picture or write a poem, I always look back on it and analyze it until I no longer like it.  But this ... no.  I just want to be acknowledged for something, I guess. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Tomorrow is the last day of school, I don't know what I feel about this.  It seems like time ran out a bit too fast.  I still want to see people and speak to people, but my summer already looks way too busy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;  wake up - arcade fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-7082629996837236386?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/7082629996837236386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=7082629996837236386&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7082629996837236386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7082629996837236386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-like-to-write.html' title='i like to write'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6035635429409653402</id><published>2009-06-05T23:08:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T23:11:26.198-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commitments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>there's only a week left of school</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;I want to do one more issue of The Iconographer, and we gotta iron t-shirts and have a chem AP party still.  Man am I over my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Uhhhh I'm feeling good these past couple of days, mood swings are weird.  I got my film fest poster framed and presented to me the other day in front of my calculus class, and I went to my last girls' rugby game.  It's too bad they didn't win.  My design for the Calgary Film Festival's Youth By Youth Cinema got printed and I like it.  I finished my design for the Sled Island poster contest and now I just have to take a picture of it.  It's snowing so it's not likely that I will be able to go golfing.  Gavin and I took the train home together and it wasn't awkward.  What a strange week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;  breaking my heart again - aqualung&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/5069915088624899434-6035635429409653402?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6035635429409653402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6035635429409653402&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6035635429409653402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6035635429409653402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/06/theres-only-week-left-of-school.html' title='there&apos;s only a week left of school'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3158061742519918961</id><published>2009-05-31T22:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T22:22:01.235-06:00</updated><title type='text'>help me, help me, help me, help me, help me.</title><content type='html'>Can anybody hear me?  Is anybody listening?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Help.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-3158061742519918961?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3158061742519918961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3158061742519918961&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3158061742519918961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3158061742519918961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/05/help-me-help-me-help-me-help-me-help-me.html' title='help me, help me, help me, help me, help me.'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5845010002841432669</id><published>2009-05-28T13:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T13:20:42.581-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>if y'all over eighteen, you better be headin' to the bar and gettin' DRUNK</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;What a good time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;If I had my camera with me, I probably would have attached a picture.  However, pretty much all my stuff is at Cailey's house.  Including my RUNNERS.  That was probably the worst thing that has ever happened to me in the history of my life.  But I'll talk about that later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;The ceremony was super long, but it was actually really cool seeing my friends walk across that stage and get their empty black book.  And it was so beautiful!  And my parents were so happy.  They took me out for sushi after the ceremony, which was delicious, and then I picked up Ramon's boutonierre that we ended up not using (sad face).  After that I headed off to Cailey's house, and we did our nails, makeup, and hair.  I'm glad they know how to put on makeup because I definitely didn't.  And Tess curled my hair for me, which was also quite exciting.  Everyone looked so amazing!  We rode a limo to the Roundup Centre and saw even more beautiful people!  Like, everyone was just so gorgeous!  I didn't want to go inside because it was so nice and sunny, and I just wanted to see more and more people.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;My shoes, however, killed so badly.  For the first while they were fine, but after waiting for like fifteen minutes to get into the banquet, it actually hurt to stay standing.  The food was decent, I saw more and more people, and the speeches were way better than Alex Anderson's (zing).  I especially liked Schrotty's and Beland's.  During one of the speeches Bronwyn threw a piece of gum at my mouth, and I caught it!  Which was amazing.  There were high fives all around at the table.  The dance was so fun, even though it hurt so bad, and then when we finally could get changed to go party I found out .. that I had left the shoes I went to Cailey's house in at her house.  So I had no extra shoes.  Luckily, Mikki's mom lent me her shoes.  But they were really stiff and pinchy, so they started hurting after a while too.  Which was no good because I ended up going to Wildwood with the rest of my limo party (we didn't get to use the last hour of the limo, boo) and dancing the whole time.  It was crazy how many people were grinding each other, let me say.  My feet hurt so badly that it was all I could think about.  It was so crowded, and lots of people were drinking, and it was super hot.  But I had a lot of fun.  After like an hour and a half, Mikki, Ramon, and I got picked up by Mikki's mom and we went to Bronwyn's aftergrad party.  Mikki's mom traded shoes with me again (her shoes for her runners) and I am so thankful for that!  Paintball was quite as fun as I thought it would be, mainly because I suck at shooting and I am afraid of getting hit.  We played until we were out of ammo and then we played lasertag, which I thought was infinitely better.  Even though I suck at that too.  We went to Denny's at around four in the morning.  We ordered our food at like 4:30 and we didn't get it until 5:15, which was pretty crazy.  A bunch of us took naps while waiting because we were so tired.  There was a couple in the parking lot that we all were creeping because of the fact that they had been making out for a good forty five minutes.  It was the worst.  Another group of Abe grads came in to Denny's when we were almost done our food.  When we did finish our food, the couple came in, and defying all of our pleas that a) they would not come in and b) they were Abe students, they came into Denny's and were recognized as people who go to our school.  Gross.  They sat with the other group of people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;We finally paid and were out of Denny's at 6:15, and then I dropped off Mikki and Adam and went home where I fell asleep two minutes after I closed my eyes.  It was such a great night!  I can't wait until I get my stuff so I can look at all of the pictures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;  stella was a diver and she was always down - interpol&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/5069915088624899434-5845010002841432669?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5845010002841432669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5845010002841432669&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5845010002841432669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5845010002841432669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/05/if-yall-over-eighteen-you-better-be.html' title='if y&apos;all over eighteen, you better be headin&apos; to the bar and gettin&apos; DRUNK'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2501259272096254350</id><published>2009-05-21T22:29:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T22:49:22.578-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><title type='text'>i only heard what i wanted</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/ShYq7ICTVLI/AAAAAAAAAD8/0H5GBnjwlnE/s1600-h/0014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/ShYq7ICTVLI/AAAAAAAAAD8/0H5GBnjwlnE/s320/0014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338501603552089266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I stole a box of icecream sandwiches today.  I also skipped English class to go golf with Bronwyn's gym class.  And I hit a hole in one when golfing with Christie.  What a day of firsts.  I wrote a really, really good story that I'm proud of.  I've never had that .. where I write something that even I love.  I want everyone to read it just because I love it so much.  I love it so much that I'm not self conscious about it.  I don't care if everyone else hates it, because I am just so proud of it.  It only took seventeen years of my life, hey?  Anyways.  After writing that story I've started to pay more attention to the things that I think about.  I think about how many times I look down at my feet, because I'm self conscious of my legs.  I think about how I have so many thoughts but I end up stuffing 95% of those thoughts in the back of my mind because I don't want to tell anybody.  Today Bronwyn and I had a heart to heart, which is something I haven't had in a long time, and it felt really good to finally tell someone all of the thoughts I have choked down for the past year.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't write in this very often.  I also don't see Heather very often, who I love very much.  I am trying to golf more often, grad is coming up fairly soon and I still think about the wrong things way too often.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;  in our bedroom after the war - stars&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/5069915088624899434-2501259272096254350?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2501259272096254350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2501259272096254350&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2501259272096254350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2501259272096254350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-only-heard-what-i-wanted.html' title='i only heard what i wanted'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/ShYq7ICTVLI/AAAAAAAAAD8/0H5GBnjwlnE/s72-c/0014.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5466547883117260812</id><published>2009-05-18T22:33:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T22:29:17.207-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>incredibly close</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/ShI291hThbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/D7F9MV4Zcmo/s1600-h/0004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/ShI291hThbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/D7F9MV4Zcmo/s320/0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337388944354149810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I feel so frustrated today, like if I am trapped inside myself.  I don't feel close to anyone.  I feel alone and lonely and tired and I wish that my friends would have told me that they were going hiking instead of canoeing.  I hate being left out.  I hate missing things, like inside jokes and laughs and car rides.  I just feel detached from everything and everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  never turn your back on mother earth - neko case&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-5466547883117260812?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5466547883117260812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5466547883117260812&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5466547883117260812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5466547883117260812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/05/incredibly-close.html' title='incredibly close'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/ShI291hThbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/D7F9MV4Zcmo/s72-c/0004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6749906075818477883</id><published>2009-05-01T23:56:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T00:06:35.391-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>wow wow wow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SfviOjr0JRI/AAAAAAAAADs/0ZK9HnflB5I/s1600-h/Day+Eleven+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SfviOjr0JRI/AAAAAAAAADs/0ZK9HnflB5I/s320/Day+Eleven+007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331103323648173330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sled Island and Folk Fest are blowing my mind!  I honestly can't wait for school to be over ... Final Fantasy?  In Calgary?  Playing in a church?  With his AMAZING LOOPING AND VOICE AND VIOLIN PLAYING??  Honestly that one show alone will make my life, especially since I didn't get to see his main concert when he was here at Folk Fest.  I loveeee Final Fantasy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And then Iron &amp;amp; Wine and The Acorn are coming to Folk Fest!  And I'm volunteering at both festivals so hopefully that means free!  Yes I am frugal.  But that's just cause I've already paid (pretty much in full) my golf membership.  I think that will be good for me because then I will go out every day .. once I'm done my AP exam.  Which is in 11 days.  My study schedule starts tomorrow, we'll see how things go.  Also, I finished all of the math homework I was behind on all week.  We also finished our radio play in English, I did a lot of work in chemistry, and I practiced using four mallets on the marimba for my entire spare.  It was a pretty productive day too.  It felt pretty good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;  easier to lie - aqualung&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/5069915088624899434-6749906075818477883?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6749906075818477883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6749906075818477883&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6749906075818477883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6749906075818477883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/05/wow-wow-wow.html' title='wow wow wow'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SfviOjr0JRI/AAAAAAAAADs/0ZK9HnflB5I/s72-c/Day+Eleven+007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-4930711104975644511</id><published>2009-04-29T23:00:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T23:06:26.627-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreaming'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>one huge void</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SfkwtYad7nI/AAAAAAAAADk/b2waBj2tStg/s1600-h/0007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SfkwtYad7nI/AAAAAAAAADk/b2waBj2tStg/s320/0007.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330345190175403634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I am at this point in my life where I should be happy.  Nothing bad is happening and yet it feels like there is a huge part of me missing.  It is like when I forget what I was going to say .. it just isn't even registered in my brain and it just bugs me.  I feel so broken and jagged but there is no reason!  I've been having dreams where I have been in car accidents and I am distancing myself while trying always to get closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Maybe I'm just not happy with myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  signs - bloc party&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/5069915088624899434-4930711104975644511?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/4930711104975644511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=4930711104975644511&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4930711104975644511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4930711104975644511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-huge-void.html' title='one huge void'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SfkwtYad7nI/AAAAAAAAADk/b2waBj2tStg/s72-c/0007.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2908030804413842931</id><published>2009-04-22T18:25:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T18:35:44.702-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commitments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Golf'/><title type='text'>what makes you think it's going to last</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/Se-2LQhzHfI/AAAAAAAAADc/QmdVvlPCWxc/s1600-h/Day+Four+272.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/Se-2LQhzHfI/AAAAAAAAADc/QmdVvlPCWxc/s320/Day+Four+272.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327677188734131698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;All my feelings have seemed to dry up, and all that is left is an empty resevoir.  All of the hurt is gone, I guess.  Or it occurs in sharp pangs, lasting only minutes before I forget all about it.  I'm happy!  I only find distaste in English, when she piles not one, but two projects to be done for the unit we are about to do.  There's not too long until grad.  Not long until this stress will all be gone, washed away for the summer and forgotten until the fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Here's to looking ahead!  My goals for the upcoming months:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1) Start running every day (after the snow has melted).  2) Try to keep this 90 in English (although that seems like it won't happen).  3) Own my chem AP exam (and then it will be all over!).  4)  Get my math mark above 90.  5) Practice driving/get better at it.  6) Qualify for nationals (golf in New Brunswick = amazing).  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  everybody broke me up - kevin drew&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/5069915088624899434-2908030804413842931?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2908030804413842931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2908030804413842931&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2908030804413842931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2908030804413842931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-makes-you-think-its-going-to-last.html' title='what makes you think it&apos;s going to last'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/Se-2LQhzHfI/AAAAAAAAADc/QmdVvlPCWxc/s72-c/Day+Four+272.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3080514507484944086</id><published>2009-04-14T19:10:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T19:23:03.806-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commitments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>i have too many flaws</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SeU2wcghInI/AAAAAAAAADU/-ZZhC_QK1B0/s1600-h/Day+Four+276.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SeU2wcghInI/AAAAAAAAADU/-ZZhC_QK1B0/s320/Day+Four+276.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324722340349682290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I haven't written an entry in a while (three weeks?  I can't remember going on a hiatus that long since I decided not to blog for a month), so it seems appropriate that I should do it while I am in the midst of being extremely busy.  Yes, things have been hectic since I got back from Germany.  Which, by the way, was amazing.  That's what I tell everyone because describing the trip is just too hard.  It might've been the best thing that has ever happened in my life thus far, which is pretty great considering I have been living seventeen years (however I'm a pretty boring person, so I guess it's not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; great).  Luckily we were required to keep a trip journal the entire time we were there, so I have everything recorded and I don't need to scribe it here, re-describing everything that happened.  Because a lot of stuff happened!  I'm going to pring out my favorite pictures and either a) make a photojournal, b) put them on my wall, or c) all of the above.  I haven't decided yet.  This, of course, will be when I have more time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Boy have I been rambling!  I'm going to list everything I need to get done, which may be driving me to make this post longer and longer to put off my tasks.  I have to finish studying chemistry for my unit test tomorrow.  I have to study math for my midterm on Wednesday.  I have to get my Streetcar Named Desire booklet done before Monday.  I have to practice driving.  I have to practice golfing.  I have to burn CDs of my Germany photos for people by the end of this week.  There is just too much stuff going on!  I guess I am mostly caught up from missing days of school two weeks ago, but chemistry would have definitely been a lot easier if I learned electrochemistry with everyone else.  Half of me just wants to give up and wing it tomorrow.  I only really need over a fifty anyways.  But I'm afraid that by winging it, I'll end up failing it and that won't be a good feeling.  I am just so tired of trying all the time.  I'm tired of this unnecessary desire to want to be the best all the time.  Because I know I'm not, and that I will never be.  I am not good at anything and mediocre at everything.&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/5069915088624899434-3080514507484944086?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3080514507484944086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3080514507484944086&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3080514507484944086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3080514507484944086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-have-too-many-flaws.html' title='i have too many flaws'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SeU2wcghInI/AAAAAAAAADU/-ZZhC_QK1B0/s72-c/Day+Four+276.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6097552132943053492</id><published>2009-03-21T09:53:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T10:02:55.549-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>danken</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;Things have been rather a blur this past week.  First off, I am going to Germany in a mere two days!  It doesn't seem that long ago when we were exclaiming that there were only forty more days, thirty more days, and now it's right around the corner.  It almost seems surreal.  I have no idea what expect!  Well I am expecting it to be the best time of my life, actually.  I really hope it is.  After what has happened and the things I have been feeling, I need a super major uplift.  One as bright as the sun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;A brief recap of things that happened this week:  Monday I went out for lunch with Amanda, Natalie, and Mikki in Kensington.  It was a riot.  I hung out with Heather that afternoon and we went to the Camera Store.  I bought a Gorilla Pod.  She almost bought a Holga.  Which reminds me, I should ask her if she ever picked it up or not.  Anyways.  On Tuesday I did my dramatic monologue in English, which made me really nervous but it went well in the end.  On Wednesday I goofed around in chemistry because Zwicker was watching our class, and it was basically a period to do whatever you want.  We all played with my Gorilla Pod because it is just that much fun.  I had a golf lesson that night and stayed up till one studying for chemistry and English.  I wrote a test in chemistry first period on Thursday and watched Jessica and The Throwaways play for Battle of the Bands.  They were good.  On Friday, which was yesterday, I went to the mall with Mikalina to buy stuff in preparation for Germany.  We ran into so many people that we knew!  We also had to go to about seven stores to buy black pants before finally finding a good deal in Garage.  Who would've thought, Garage!  Anyways.  I also got a pair of black flats, batteries, a disposable camera, and a prepaid Visa.  You know what blows?  $20.25 US is about $25.10 Canadian.  My prepaid Visa was $25.00 Canadian.  I was ten cents short to buy the hard copy of Metric's new album!  I just settled for the digital copy.  From the mall we walked to Mikki's house, which felt like the longest walk ever because my feet were sore and my shoulders were tired.  We worked on the scrapbooks for our host families, and they are coming along quite nicely!  It is a good thing Mikki is so artsy.  We ate greasy pizza and listened to High School Musical via Youtube to try to get A Mighty Fortress Is Our God out of our heads.  We ended the night watching Mary Poppins.  It was so much fun! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Today I work, and I have to get a haircut sometime before Monday.  Which means either tonight (hopefully) or Sunday.  We'll see!  I am so excited!!!&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/5069915088624899434-6097552132943053492?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6097552132943053492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6097552132943053492&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6097552132943053492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6097552132943053492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/03/danken.html' title='danken'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6107845991389821663</id><published>2009-03-17T22:32:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T22:38:16.125-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>the pure, simple truth:</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I still think about you at least once every single day.  It has been seven months and I am still waiting for absolutely nothing.  I try to stay as realistic as possible, but once in a while, I'll get a tiny fleet of hope that I'll try to stamp out, but will linger in my mind anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It doesn't hurt the way it used to, and I don't ever cry about it anymore, but yeah I still miss you.  I miss your hands and eyes and your love.  Sometimes I spend my time wondering what I did wrong, what I could've said to maybe change your mind.  There are so many regrets and so many scorched pieces of memory that I wish I could've changed.  Why is it that I am only seventeen and already I wish I had done my life differently?  I keep thinking, if I was prettier, or smarter, or cooler, or charismatic, maybe you'd be as much in love with me as I am you.  I hate admitting this fact that I still love you, but it's a feeling that will never, ever go away.  There's always a minute of my day where I wonder if you still have this feeling hidden somewhere too.&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/5069915088624899434-6107845991389821663?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6107845991389821663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6107845991389821663&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6107845991389821663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6107845991389821663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/03/pure-simple-truth.html' title='the pure, simple truth:'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2549676337743057827</id><published>2009-03-16T22:01:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T22:06:00.089-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>i'm stuck</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;First thing I'm going to do when I win the lottery:  buy a Nikon dSLR camera, along with as many lenses as I possibly can buy.  My mom says I'm obsessed with taking pictures, and I think I am.  Right now, in the point of my life, there is nothing else I'd rather do than take pictures.  Thing I'm looking forward to most in Germany?  The amazing scenery I will get to capture on my camera.  Getting closer with my friends is on top of that, by a hair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;I got a new Gorilla Pod today, it's sweet.  I can't wait to actually try it out.  Man I just want to be a photographer!&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/5069915088624899434-2549676337743057827?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2549676337743057827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2549676337743057827&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2549676337743057827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2549676337743057827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-stuck.html' title='i&apos;m stuck'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5124183226406689281</id><published>2009-03-08T22:06:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T22:23:53.209-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>it won't stop rewinding!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;This weekend was a pretty good one, I must say.  I've been pretty busy and I haven't really thought of updating, so I guess here it is.  I didn't get quite as much homework done as I wanted, specifically in English.  I definitely should have gotten a bunch of letters done for my Othello ABCs, but I only got one and three quarters done.  Oh well.  I'm thinking if worst comes to worst, I will do it on the eight hour plane ride to Germany and the eight hour ride back.  It's probably for the best that I spend that time away from my friends, or else we'll probably go crazy from being together and being so annoying.  Because really, that's the dynamics in our group; we annoy the heck out of each other to the point that it is absolutely hilarious.  Plus, nobody actually takes offence and it's all in good fun.  I'm just afraid that after eight hours of confined berating somebody's going to snap.  But anyways.  There is just so much English homework!  I should've read my book today so I can start on the pre-seminar, but alas, I didn't.  I guess I can do that in band .. hm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Well enough about English and more about my weekend.  I kicked it off on Friday by going downtown with Mikalina to take photos to scrapbook for our German host families.  However, my film got messed up because I potentially screwed it all up when I forgot to take the camera off rewind when I was trying to figure it out.  Apparently I'm awesome with all technology, but when it comes down to a stupid analog camera I am an idiot.  Anyways, I think it might've run the battery when it kept rewinding, so it took a while for the camera to actually take pictures when I wanted to.  The sky was a perfect blue and the river was frozen to the point of beauty.  The Calgary Tower was magnificent against the blank sky.  The setting was just so perfect that I am praying that the pictures worked.  I'll have to wait until either Tuesday or Friday to find out.  Stupid Shoppers Drug Mart.  I then went home and worked on my homework.  That's two Fridays in a row!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I worked all day Saturday, and it was pretty boring.  Sometimes I hate working at Golf Town because it's just not interesting anymore.  It's really easy work, and I'm terrible at holding conversations with my coworkers, even though they're all really friendly and nice.  I had to sell raffle tickets for band, and I wanted to sell them to customers but I got way too shy.  I hate asking people to buy things when I don't know them.  Instead, I asked all my coworkers and most of them agreed to buy one.  I sold all eight!  I was so happy.  I work with the nicest guys.  They even tried to convince Shawn (my manager) to buy one, but he wouldn't.  Ah well.  It felt pretty good.  I went home to a house that smelled like burnt crackers because my brother had put crackers and cheese in the microwave for two minutes, causing the plate to explode and the crackers to set on fire.  We watched Get Smart, had some good laughs, and then I went to bed because I was extremely tired and because of daylight savings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Today Mikki and I got together to take more pictures.  First we went to North Hill Mall to get some Canadian stuff for our host families, and then we went to Shopper's to drop off my film.  It took forever to rewind, until we thought it jammed because it wouldn't move past sixteen.  Finally I opened up the camera to find that it was already rewound in a tightly packed cylinder.  Weird.  Mikalina put in a new roll of film for me, and it worked a couple of times and then it wouldn't.  I brought it in to Black's and he said that the motor was run out.  Side note:  when I got home, I tried to take another picture and it worked.  So my dad thinks that the batteries were just dying.  Luckily I brought my digital camera, which proved that it was superior in the fact that I can rely on it.  Mikki's mom drove us to the top of the COP hill, and it was so cold and windy!  My eyes teared up so badly because of the wind, and so I couldn't even see what I was taking a picture of.  We stayed up there for a total of one minute and then booked it and took pictures at the bottom of the hill.  After that, we went downtown and Mikki and I took pictures outside of the car windows as her mom drove us to Stephen Avenue.  We bought more Canadiana stuff, took more pictures outside the window, and then we parted ways.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I wish that the weekend would never end!  I got my progress report card on Friday and surprisingly, my best subject is English.  Totally weird.  I'm only getting 85 and 83 in math and chemistry, which is pretty disappointing.  It's because of that one stupid unit test!  And the fact that we have so many quizzes in math.  Everyone keeps telling me that things will get better.  Hopefully it does.  I'm praying that it does.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Nearly two weeks until I get on a plane and escape from this country!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;  rise up in the dirt - voxtrot&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/5069915088624899434-5124183226406689281?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5124183226406689281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5124183226406689281&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5124183226406689281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5124183226406689281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/03/it-wont-stop-rewinding.html' title='it won&apos;t stop rewinding!'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-8477454350040833042</id><published>2009-03-01T22:30:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T22:41:37.995-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>what will make you believe me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;Today has been the best day I've had in a couple of weeks.  I guess it was because I did not have to stress about school whatsover because I finished my homework earlier this weekend (I'm finally getting this down!).  Anyways.  My day started out with me going to Diana's house to teach her drums.  She still hasn't got it down yet, but it's nice to hang out with her, even though she's banging the drums at the wrong time.  It'll get better soon!  haha but yeah.  After that I went to Nellie's to meet Kim for her birthday brunch.  It was Kim, Bonnie, Megan, Tess, and I and it was really good.  We had to wait so long for a table and to get our food but it was so worth it.  After that we went to Purr and I got my grad dress.  Except I didn't really realize it then, I just really liked it and it was not expensive at all, and it looks pretty good.  So I bought it.  Tonight when I got home I showed my mom and my sister and they liked it too and said I should wear it to grad.  I wish I could wear it earlier!  But I think that it'll be a good dress for grad, and I'm just too lazy to think about those kinds of things and actually go out and look for something.  This way it's just not forced.  It's like .. things just happened.  Which is a good way things should come together!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;After that we went to The Rocket because we were going to get Kim a pair of new sunglasses for her birthday, but then we found out that she just got new Ray-Bans for her birthday.  So then after we went to American Apparel and I bought a new sweater and we tried on ridiculous dresses and skirts.  It was fun.  After that, Kim, Bonnie, and I went to Bonnie's house and ate cake and played Monopoly.  I really was not lucky today.  I lost pretty badly because Bonnie got so many hotels and houses, and even though Kim willed all of her property and money to me after she left, I still could not defeat Bonnie.  It was frustrating but really fun.  I love board games.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;After that, I headed to Brittany's so I could hang out with her one last time before she departs for France.  We went with Jessica to the Cheesecake Cafe and had dinner, which was really, really good.  I was so stuffed from everything I ate.  We stayed at the restaurant for probably an hour and a half after we finished eating because we were just so into our conversations.  I was really glad we got to talk about so much stuff, because with them it's easy to get things off my chest without anything getting too serious.  It helped me realize a lot of things.  Like how I'm in a good place right now, even though things are pretty stressful.  Anyways, they dropped me off and I've just been hanging out at home.  But what a good day.  What a good day.&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/5069915088624899434-8477454350040833042?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/8477454350040833042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=8477454350040833042&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8477454350040833042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8477454350040833042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-will-make-you-believe-me.html' title='what will make you believe me?'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-9056081460899833735</id><published>2009-02-26T23:22:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T23:25:54.275-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>middle cyclone</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;My day was not good.  I actually broke into tears at one point.  There is that constant feeling of panic, and it feels like I am hurtling into barriers at such great speed that I don't realize the pain until I take a second and stop, and truly feel the full impact.  My body has been trembling uncontrollably at times; the other night I woke up to feel my body convulsing and unable to stop.  When is everything going to stop?  I can't wait to escape, to get away and forget about life just for eleven days, at least.  I can't cope.  My day did not feel good because none of my days have been feeling good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;But I am listening to Neko Case, and things feel okay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;  fever - neko case&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-9056081460899833735?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/9056081460899833735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=9056081460899833735&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/9056081460899833735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/9056081460899833735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/02/middle-cyclone.html' title='middle cyclone'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-4553828323825632449</id><published>2009-02-23T23:14:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T23:24:04.350-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facts about me'/><title type='text'>f-f-f-factoid of the day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I figured I'd just lay out a list of things about myself for this post.  I think it'd be interesting to go back on it later in my life and think about how much I've changed.  So here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I hate yogurt.  Although it's been like this for pretty much all my life, I doubt it'll change anytime soon.  I hate the way it smells.  I think I had it once when I was seven or something like that, and it was the grossest thing ever.  I also dislike pie; I don't have good vibes about cooked fruit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;When something is bothering me, I get extremely introverted and I stop talking about anything.  I think it's because when something is bothering me, it will occupy the majority of my mind, and I hate talking about my problems so I'll end up not saying anything at all.  This was discovered in the summer.  Whenever Gavin and I went for a walk or hung out at his house, and something was upsetting me, he'd always ask me why I wasn't saying anything.  And then sometimes I would open up to him and we'd start having conversations again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I have a hard time saying no to anything, which always leads me into conflicts or doing things I don't actually want to do.  I hate disappointing people.  I'm pretty spineless.  I wish I could tell people I don't want to do things they want me to do, but usually I just suck it up and do it.  Whenever people make plans, for example, and I don't want to go, I'll go anyways because I don't want to tell them the truth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I worry a lot about how people think about me.  Probably more than what's natural.  It leads me to be pretty timid, and a lot of the time I will formulate an action in my mind but I won't act on it until I confirm that people will approve.  It's terrible, I know, but I can't help it.  Everything I say is thought and contained in my brain minutes after they are conjured, and aren't released until I have triple checked that it's alright to say it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;When I hear a really catchy song, I have to listen to it a million and one times, and I still would love it after that.  Case in point:  Willow Tree by Chad VanGaalen.  I listened to that song over 200 times.  In a row.  And I still love it.  I think I listened to Lemonade by The Neighbourhood Council like 50 times in a row.  Right now I am hooked on Stuck For The Summer by Two Hours Traffic.  If you have time you should check it out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So that concludes my list for now, I am tired and today was not a good day so I'm going to go to bed and hopefully start fresh tomorrow.&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/5069915088624899434-4553828323825632449?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/4553828323825632449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=4553828323825632449&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4553828323825632449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4553828323825632449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/02/f-f-f-factoid-of-day.html' title='f-f-f-factoid of the day'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-431880037779849898</id><published>2009-02-22T17:00:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T17:11:24.041-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commitments'/><title type='text'>checkmate checkmate!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;It honestly irritates me when people set their Facebook statuses to announce to everybody that they did extremely well on their diploma exams.  I don't know why, but it's almost as if somebody is just rubbing it into everyone else's faces that they did better than anybody else.  Are you expecting people to congratulate you for beating them?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;I wish I did better on my diplomas, because I studied so extremely hard.  These marks are basically telling me the limits of my abilities.  I wish I was better, but I always wish I was better.  Right now, accepting the marks I have feels like accepting mediocrity.  I'm pretty sure I got the lowest mark on my diploma out of everyone else in my chem AP class (but then again, they all probably got in the range of 97-100%), which doesn't feel great.  Speaking of chem AP, it's pretty stressful.  I have my first unit exam tomorrow, and I'm not sure how prepared I am for it.  I think it's going to go terribly wrong.  I am almost considering dropping the class, because I don't need it for university.  Also, if I drop it, then it would give me time to learn calculus AP, which would be beneficial in university.  It's conflicting, because I really love being in that class.  And I can't say no to everyone.  It's just that in this case, there are people telling me to drop it, and people telling me not to.  And I don't know who to listen to.  Chem AP isn't turning out the way I thought it was going to, and right now I don't have enough time to work hard at it.  I need to focus on English and Math 31, because those are the marks I need to get the scholarship.  I guess this class is kind of like a free one; it doesn't really matter what happens in it, kind of like in bio last year.  I'm uneasy about how great this class is going to be, though.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;This weekend has been pretty weird.  Last night I felt pretty shitty.  I'm such a dick sometimes.  I really tried to study chem for most of the weekend, but it's been going slower than I thought it would.  I don't want to go to school tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;  lloyd i'm ready to be heartbroken - camera obscura&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/5069915088624899434-431880037779849898?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/431880037779849898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=431880037779849898&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/431880037779849898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/431880037779849898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/02/checkmate-checkmate.html' title='checkmate checkmate!'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-7238432282220020328</id><published>2009-02-19T00:15:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T00:26:14.877-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commitments'/><title type='text'>what the what?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;Today did not feel like a good day.  It wasn't a terribly bad day, but right now I have a headache, I just finished my chemistry homework and I am really tired.  And it just feels like a lot of things sucked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Band was boring today, which was disappointing because we played Do Not Go Gentle the entire time.  I guess it's nice to listen to the whole band play, but it's not when you listen to the same part ten times and you don't get to play for forty five minutes.  And you count every single bar to make sure you don't get lost only to get stopped two bars before you come in.  And when Mr. Willms is glaring down all of the percussionists because they are still idiots who don't know how to be quiet or not chew gum.  Honestly.  Anyways, it wasn't very fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;I walked into English, almost late, only to realize that we were having a vocabulary test that I totally forgot about.  It was really lucky that I (really lightly) reviewed the vocabulary words, and that they were matching, or else I would have been so screwed.  We started Othello today and I'm going to have to get started on my ABC's, which is going to be a killer project that I realized I would probably have to finish earlier than I thought because I won't have spring break to do it, pretty much.  And there's like a bajillion other things to do in English during then.  And I just realized that I have to do a written piece in class tomorrow, and I have seminar.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Math was okay, because it's never too confusing once you realize what Kotow is talking about.  But during then, I was talking to Susan and Sarah about how I'm not really taking chem AP for any reason at all, and they almost persuaded me to drop it.  If I dropped chem AP, I could use my spare to study calculus AP, which would be more useful for university since I'm taking math-based courses and no chemistry courses at all.  Plus, chemistry AP is stressing me out so badly, and I don't know why I don't understand any of the concepts.  It's like if I'm staring at everything, I see the formula but it just doesn't connect.  Which is weird, because last semester everything made so much sense to me.  I don't know what happened that made me lose so much confidence in myself, and in the fact that I am (or was) good at chemistry.  I finally struggled through my chemistry homework, and I still have to go to tutorials tomorrow to ask for help still.  I told my friends in my chem AP class that I was considering dropping it, and they all tried to persuade me not to.  And Schrottner called me the "ray of sunshine" in our class, and told me to just hang on and keep fighting through.  And I want to fight through; I really hate giving up.  But it's just so hard and it feels like I'm barely staying afloat right now.  Maybe I just need to fix my study habits and discipline myself.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;I started driving lessons today.  It's just the in-class lessons though, so they are pretty boring.  I think my instructor is from India, and sometimes you can't even understand what he's saying.  He also has long chest hair.  And he makes us all read aloud from the powerpoint or the book, and I already made a fool of myself twice.  I made a friend, though.  The girl who was sitting beside me was very nice, and she goes to Bowness, and we had a conversation about band and travel and school.  Oh, and before I went, my mom deep-fried pork for dinner so I reeked of Chinese food.  I felt really bad for everyone sitting around me because even I was getting a headache.  Yikes.&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/5069915088624899434-7238432282220020328?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/7238432282220020328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=7238432282220020328&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7238432282220020328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7238432282220020328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-what.html' title='what the what?'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5518815169856300939</id><published>2009-02-15T22:01:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T22:10:27.348-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>"show me the awkward"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;This long weekend has been pretty good.  In short form:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;a) Thursday I went to Cailey's house and Tess, Megan, Cailey and I baked an amazing cake only to realize that we forgot to grease the pans.  So we decided to just make a mountain cake and put dinosaurs on it (we were celebrating Darwin's birthday, if that makes the dinosaurs logical) and it turned out to just be a mess.  Also, our icing was extremely sweet so it was really hard to eat, although the cake was good!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;b) Friday I played a lot of Guitar Hero and drew a design for our band trip t-shirts.  I like it, so hopefully they decide to use it!  My sister kept coming up with weird ideas for me to draw, but I don't think I'm going to do them.  Then I went to Golf Town in the evening and hit a lot of balls.  So many that my hands were raw and tired, and the next day every muscle I used was sore.  I haven't golfed in a while.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;c) Saturday I worked for the first time in like three weeks, and it was kind of boring although nice to see Jenna again.  We played Text Twist for the last two hours, which actually helped make the time go by.  After that I went to Gavin's birthday party and had a blast.  We played a lot of Guitar Hero (World Tour), fooseball, pool, and darts.  It was overall a good time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;d) Today I watched High School Musical 3, which is ridiculous but I'll probably watch it again in like ten minutes just because.  After that I went to Gavin's house to play some music, which was pretty good.  We made a new song today!  It sounded nice.  My sister killed my records for Cliffs of Dover and so I tried to beat her, but I can't.  She is the king.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;I guess that wasn't really short form, but there were a lot of little things that went on.  The most hilarious thing happened today, though.  While my sisters, my mom and I were in the kitchen, I went to go get a glass of juice.  My older sister was having peanut butter on bread.  When I left my glass at the counter to put away the box of juice the fridge, I heard a slurping sound only to turn around and see my sister accidentally spill all of my juice from her mouth because she was laughing so hard.  It was so weird.  I laughed really hard, which hurt because my ribs still hurt a lot.&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/5069915088624899434-5518815169856300939?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5518815169856300939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5518815169856300939&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5518815169856300939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5518815169856300939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/02/show-me-awkward.html' title='&quot;show me the awkward&quot;'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3703177293363462900</id><published>2009-02-06T23:13:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T23:33:13.551-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>"how are you?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I just have to say I am so thankful I have Mikalina Carss in my life.  She writes me notes when I least expect them.  She asks me if I am fine, not just to hear that I'm fine, but to make sure that I'm not going through things alone again.  She brings me a carton of ice cream to cheer me up, or a container of homemade chocolate chip cookies when I am at my lowest point.  She hugs me and makes me feel so good about myself, so comfortable and so assured that things &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will&lt;/span&gt; be alright.  She laughs at my jokes and puts up with my harassment, and she is just an amazing friend.  I am so lucky.  I cannot wait forty-five more days, when we get to spend two weeks in Germany just hanging out pretty much 24/7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of band, that class is at the same time so great yet so frustrating.  I love when we get to play through Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, top to bottom.  That song doesn't feel like twelve minutes long.  Even though we still have a lot of stuff to fix and we make so many mistakes, the skeleton of that song sends chills down my spine.  There are so many great parts in that songs, and when I listen to it, my skin turns cold and trembles.  It's a weird sensation.  But then, when we have to work on small parts of the song, it drives me crazy because we always have to spend such a long time focusing on just one tiny part of the band.  I know that it'll make us sound so much better when those things get fixed, but I get so impatient when I have to wait half an hour for the bass line to correct themselves.  Honestly, if you can't get your part right, why don't you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;practice&lt;/span&gt;?  It would benefit yourself and then entire band.  And what is up with the percussion section?  They drive me nuts, especially since I always get grouped with them when they act like idiots.  They can't even count rests, or play dynamics, or just clue in to the fact that when the band is playing, you should shut your mouth and maybe listen to how things are coming along.  It is so frustrating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But enough about me ranting about band.  This week actually hasn't been too bad.  Calculus is way easier than I imagined it would be, and now I just sit in the back with my friends and try really hard to listen to Kotow go on about limits and approaching zero.  English isn't as bad as I thought it would be either, because we have been doing so many personal responses, and this year I just have so many experiences that I can relate to so many things.  I guess some good does come out of heartbreak.  I don't know why I always feel compelled to complain about English, though.  I do like Writers Workshop because we get to write for the entire period.  I guess I've just been so accustomed to disliking being forced to write.  I am so bad at writing songs, or poems, or stories when I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; to write them.  Usually I write better when the idea just spontaneously comes to mind, and everything just flows together.  I haven't written anything great in the past year or so, though, so maybe I need to try harder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chem AP is the only class I am worried about right now.  There are so many complicated concepts to know and understand, and I am a terrible listener when it comes to notes and lectures.  Today Mr. Schrottner wasn't at school, and pretty much nobody in my class (which is like, seven people out of the nine) understood anything that we had to read last night.  Looks like tutorials until May.  Fantastic.  I thought that chem AP would be my favorite class, because I really like chemistry and I love small classes, but it's looking to be a real struggle and I am too lazy to try to work hard.  Although I am trying.&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/5069915088624899434-3703177293363462900?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3703177293363462900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3703177293363462900&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3703177293363462900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3703177293363462900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/02/how-are-you.html' title='&quot;how are you?&quot;'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-279621234968950724</id><published>2009-02-01T00:16:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T00:19:24.582-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellaneous'/><title type='text'>"a reason to be closer"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I just realized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;There's a much bigger picture that my life is painting.  I'm just living this tiny, concentrated square.  I wish I could take a step backwards and see where things are taking me.  I am working so hard for a purpose I don't even know.  I really hope it works out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;What if I am wrong about everything?&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/5069915088624899434-279621234968950724?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/279621234968950724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=279621234968950724&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/279621234968950724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/279621234968950724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/02/reason-to-be-closer.html' title='&quot;a reason to be closer&quot;'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2713842975880322308</id><published>2009-01-28T21:47:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T21:55:17.394-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>"what a charming typewriter"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SYE1RtAhCAI/AAAAAAAAACs/kJUpzShwJkE/s1600-h/0020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SYE1RtAhCAI/AAAAAAAAACs/kJUpzShwJkE/s320/0020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296573215020222466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There's something about cranes that always fascinates me.  Maybe the fact that they are so enormous.  They always contrast so well with the sky, especially if it's a dark and cloudy day.  I wonder what it'd be like to be at the top of a crane?  Really scary, I guess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today was a really good day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;  the most beautiful girl in the room - flight of the conchords&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-2713842975880322308?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2713842975880322308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2713842975880322308&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2713842975880322308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2713842975880322308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-charming-typewriter.html' title='&quot;what a charming typewriter&quot;'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SYE1RtAhCAI/AAAAAAAAACs/kJUpzShwJkE/s72-c/0020.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2260955689623731540</id><published>2009-01-27T18:58:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T19:09:16.945-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>"pick something!!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SX-8ReGMqrI/AAAAAAAAACk/D9ZLsAZhBck/s1600-h/0003edit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SX-8ReGMqrI/AAAAAAAAACk/D9ZLsAZhBck/s320/0003edit.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296158695133850290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Tagged by &lt;a href="http://boatharbor.blogspot.com/"&gt;Chelsea&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 238, 221); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Tag rules:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1. Go to where you store your digital photo folders. Open the fourth folder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;2. Go to the fourth picture and post it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;3. Explain the picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;4. Tag 4 people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;"&gt;I took this picture on December 30, right when I woke up.  I think it snowed the night before, so there was a new blanket of snow layering everything outside.  Whenever there's a new snowfall, I always want to take a picture of what it looks like, so that's what I did; I grabbed my camera, opened my door (while wearing my pajamas and a coat) and took a couple photos.  This one I especially liked because you could see the thin layer of snow and it contrasts with the dark branches.  The four people I am going to tag are:  &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Rae L&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Heather A&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Rebecca S, &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Abbey B&lt;/span&gt;.  Because they're the only other ones on my Blog roll.  Even though I doubt any of them will do it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;"&gt;I am very tired.  I'd like to take a nap, but I know that if I do, I'll end up staying awake for hours tonight.  Which, I guess, doesn't matter really because tomorrow I have absolutely nothing to do!  My study schedule is complete and I no longer have to worry about exams.  Actually that's not true, because now I'll probably spend the next three weeks worrying about my marks.  But, I don't have to study anymore and so now, unless I manage to make plans with anyone, I'm probably going to play Guitar Hero or watch Mad Men on my computer.  I am getting too addicted to Guitar Hero.  I should probably cut down, because today I played to the point where my wrists are sore, and for a little while my neck was sore.  I'm getting so much better, though!  I can play in "hard" mode and I never realized how much fun pressing buttons could be.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&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/5069915088624899434-2260955689623731540?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2260955689623731540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2260955689623731540&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2260955689623731540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2260955689623731540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/01/pick-something.html' title='&quot;pick something!!&quot;'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r-UWdJydTMI/SX-8ReGMqrI/AAAAAAAAACk/D9ZLsAZhBck/s72-c/0003edit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-8282839927551982880</id><published>2009-01-26T00:16:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T00:25:44.817-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><title type='text'>"i just want to swing the microphone stand around."</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;Tomorrow on the schedule:  catching up on a season and a half of Mad Men and study contemporary events for social studies.  Probably not in that order.  And there will probably be some Guitar Hero in between.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Last night was a really good one.  For the first time in a really long time, we actually got people together to hang out.  Times like yesterday are pretty rare; people are always too busy.  Any time you can get over five people to hang out, it's a success.  We played Rock Band, Guitar Hero, and Twister, and we watched Death at a Funeral.  My friends are hilarious.  They always know the right things to say and the right way to say it.  Sometimes I just don't feel like talking, and last night was one of those times.  Sometimes I just don't have anything to say.  Am I boring?&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/5069915088624899434-8282839927551982880?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/8282839927551982880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=8282839927551982880&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8282839927551982880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8282839927551982880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-just-want-to-swing-microphone-stand.html' title='&quot;i just want to swing the microphone stand around.&quot;'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-7778685577252450215</id><published>2009-01-22T19:13:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T19:20:33.513-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreaming'/><title type='text'>"i hope you choke on the way home!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I had the strangest dream last night, it was just so ridiculous and weird that I can't even comprehend it.  It started out at school, although it wasn't like Aberhart, it was somewhere with a basement and small lockers.  For some reason I stopped hanging out with all of my friends, and started dating this person I am definitely not supposed to be with.  Although in my dream, he made me very happy.  And then I realized that HE'S MARRIED.  So somehow the scene changes into this weird surreal track, and we're roller skating.  The whole time he is holding on to me, and I'm braking the entire time we're going down the track even though in reality I do know how to roller skate.  His wife shows up, but he just tells her that he's simply helping me out because I can't roller skate.  As she passes by he tells me that we've gone through six levels, and there's only one left and I have to defeat her in order for us to be together.  At first I don't get it, but then at the end of the track there's this boxing ring and we both go into it.  His wife starts decking me out, and I just remember these flies swarming this latex mask I'm wearing and I am really freaked out about flies.  She is kicking my ass, but he keeps telling me not to give up.  I take off my mask and flip it inside out to trap all of the flies.  I start heading towards her with the mask of flies, but right before I could find out what happened, my alarm started ringing and my mom came into my room, all at the same time.  It was so, so bizarre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  humans - islands&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/5069915088624899434-7778685577252450215?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/7778685577252450215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=7778685577252450215&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7778685577252450215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7778685577252450215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-hope-you-choke-on-way-home.html' title='&quot;i hope you choke on the way home!&quot;'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-1141279287034774546</id><published>2009-01-20T22:17:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T22:37:48.852-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><title type='text'>"i'm vegan.  it doesn't work that way."</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I think I've gone slightly crazy these past few days because of exams.  I definitely crack under pressure.  I get so nervous that anything that presses on my tongue triggers my gag reflex and it is terrible.  Especially when you're trying to eat an egg and a banana for breakfast, and you are already not the biggest fan of either to begin with.  My stomach really hurt because of all of that this morning.  On top of that, my mind races when I'm trying to sleep, and I always stay awake for an hour or so thinking about the worst case scenario.  And then I dream of equations and solving them.  When I wake up, I'm so tired I could black out and I can't remember my dreams so I end up panicking because I don't know what the equation was or if I knew it.  I'm pretty sure I make up all of the formulas in my head anyways.  I think one night I figured out about Le Chetalier's Principles in my dream but I couldn't comprehend what I had learned once I woke up.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;And then I get so stressed out during a test I can't even read properly.  Seriously, it took me so long to realize what some questions were trying to ask.  Or I would interpret the question wrong and it would take me fifteen minutes to do a question before realizing that I'm doing it all wrong.  And all the while, my jaw is clenched because that's apparently what happens when I'm stressed out.  Ten minutes left of my math exam and my head hurt from clenching my teeth so hard, seeing as I still had eleven or twelve questions left.  Today in chemistry I think it was a bit better because I tried to speed up my thought process, but eventually I slowed down so I could try to understand some weird question about lead solid.  Being reduced and reducing always messes me up.  I'm really hoping I did alright.  I can't afford anything but great.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;By the way, I think the best part of exams are the periods between A and B, where everyone just hangs around.  I love running into people and talking, and then just walking off and finding someone else. And just hanging out while eating a pound of lasagna and Kraft Dinner.  I enjoy that very much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Hey, only one more exam left now!  I think I'll finally get a good night's sleep tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;  at the bottom of everything - bright eyes&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/5069915088624899434-1141279287034774546?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/1141279287034774546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=1141279287034774546&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1141279287034774546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/1141279287034774546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-just-got-my-ass-kicked-by-that-test.html' title='&quot;i&apos;m vegan.  it doesn&apos;t work that way.&quot;'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-4472467660331904912</id><published>2009-01-17T23:11:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T23:21:34.195-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facts about me'/><title type='text'>the wind brings scars from finer ladies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My hand is extremely extremely sore right now.  Spending ten hours reviewing math is most definitely not the ideal way to spend a Saturday, but that's basically what I did.  And yesterday.  And the day before.  And the day before that.  I am actually so sick of my room, this laptop, and this very uncomfortable chair I am sitting on.  But I've got pretty high goals for my exams, and I really need to accomplish them.  If it means that I have to sit in the same spot and practice solving for "x" hundred and hundreds of times, so be it.  Plus, I get a sense of satisfaction whenever I get a question right.  Nerdy but it's true.  I like doing math because I like being right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I deactivated my Facebook, and the only time I've hung out with people since Wednesday is at review sessions at school.  Part of me doesn't really mind.  The person I was back in elementary school kicks in and causes me to enjoy this individualism.  My favorite part of studying is being alone and singing along to my music playing at full volume.  Doing math and chemistry distracts me from everything else that's going on.  I don't really mind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;  the future, pt. 1 - voxtrot&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-4472467660331904912?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/4472467660331904912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=4472467660331904912&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4472467660331904912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4472467660331904912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/01/wind-brings-scars-from-finer-ladies.html' title='the wind brings scars from finer ladies'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5888249950467067127</id><published>2009-01-12T22:45:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T17:49:10.168-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writing for the sake of writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>i'll take my chances on you</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Do you ever get that feeling when you're in pain but you like it anyways?  Like when you have that fresh bruise on your knee, and you constantly lean against it or press it just to feel how much it hurts?  I guess that's the way you have to accept emotional pain.  Because the way I see it, the only way you can truly hurt from somebody is if you truly loved them.  If you never cared, what loss is it to you?  You may feel bad for not quite being the person they wanted, but you never experience that blinding, throbbing pain that never quite goes away.  The kind that keeps you up at night and makes you wonder where you went wrong.  If you didn't love someone, they would never be able to break your heart simply because you never gave it to them in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I guess I've been thinking about this stuff more and more lately.  I'll admit, these days I'm on the verge of giving up on everything.  I am stressed out and I'm back to square one where I really need a good cry.  There are a lot of times when the past comes up and I realize how much I miss it.  I am so immature that I can't cope with this.  I am always racking my brain, trying to figure out what I did wrong that would make me undesireable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But I'm still trying to remind myself of the positive side to all of this.  Before last June, I was afraid to love anyone.  I was afraid of this kind of hurt, of heartbreak and depending so much on somebody to make you happy.  But then it happened, and those past three months were honestly the three best months of my life.  There is no better feeling than investing your love in someone and having it returned.  It was amazing to experience, regardless of the fact that it ended.  I also think of the fact that even if I didn't go for it, if we didn't go through with all of this .. I'd still be in some sort of bind where I'd have a terrible crush on him and be left with this sort of want and longing.  This pain is just a reminder that I loved.  And what is a life where you don't get hurt at least once?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-5888249950467067127?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5888249950467067127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5888249950467067127&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5888249950467067127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5888249950467067127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/01/ill-take-my-chances-on-you.html' title='i&apos;ll take my chances on you'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-4614187344984894120</id><published>2009-01-09T15:31:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T15:54:32.435-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><title type='text'>i can't stop loving you</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Everything became so stressful in a span of one week.  I'm so glad it's over, and now I can just have a even sense of stress that doesn't overwhelm me and drive me crazy.  I think everything went well except for math, which did not go the way I wanted it to at all.  I'm so disappointed that I did so bad on a math test.  Usually it's one of my strongest suits.  But the weekend is here, and I can work on conics so I can at least accomplish something good in math.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I really need a nap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-4614187344984894120?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/4614187344984894120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=4614187344984894120&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4614187344984894120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4614187344984894120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-cant-stop-loving-you.html' title='i can&apos;t stop loving you'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-4980707646327296952</id><published>2009-01-03T05:18:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T05:24:25.407-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>help, i'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I need to stop doing this.  It is 5:18 in the freaking morning and I'm still not asleep.  I've got to get back on track.  School's in two days and being up at 5:18 sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I've been alone and allowed to listen to my own thoughts for a bit too long now.  Listening to myself is never a good thing because it seems like I'm only thinking on one track.  I'm trying harder and harder to convince myself that things are fine, and for the most part it works.  I'm just getting tired of having to fight this battle all the time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button with Kim on New Years' Eve, and it was pretty good.  I always enjoy time with Kim.  After that I stayed in with my family and watched a couple movies.  I'm glad I didn't go out, my family is great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;On New Years' my dad took my sister and I out to the junior tournament championship final in the Saddledome, and I had a good time.  I spent the most part taking pictures, but that's what I love to do.  We went to our aunt's house for the traditional New Years' dinner, and I had a good time again with my cousins.  We played a lot of cards and Rock Band.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Work is really slow again, but I don't really mind.  It's cold outside.  I found out that I already got accepted to the U of C.  My acceptance email came 24 seconds after they confirmed that my application got sent in.  I was kind of hoping that I wouldn't get accepted so I could try to get into UBC or McGill or something like that.  But U of C is the only one my mom will let me go to, so I guess I'm stuck here.  Maybe it won't be too bad.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-4980707646327296952?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/4980707646327296952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=4980707646327296952&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4980707646327296952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4980707646327296952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2009/01/help-im-alive-my-heart-keeps-beating.html' title='help, i&apos;m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2113380698159415978</id><published>2008-12-30T00:52:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T01:18:05.160-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>everybody broke me up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It's been an interesting week.  Christmas was absolutely great; I spent it with my relatives, and my cousins and I played pick up sticks and cards all evening.  I love hanging out with my cousins, especially when we all just have fun and play games like this.  It's like if we're kids all over again, at someone's 8th birthday party where we'd all sit around and just play Uno, or Big Two.  It's fun to bond with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I worked Boxing Day, and it was busy and not bad.  That night I went to Jade's apartment, and we stayed up all night watching I Am Legend, Tropic Thunder, Gossip Girl, and Arrested Development with Maggie and Jacqui.  It was ridiculous.  We ate so much junk food, and tried so hard to stay up all night but everyone fell asleep.  I pretty much passed out at 5:30.  We woke up at 9:00 the next morning, which was stupid but Jacqui had to go out for lunch that day so we just hung around and then ate breakfast.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;That night I stayed up with my sisters watching Gossip Girl.  We had made it until the middle of the second season until we finally decided to go to sleep.  We finished the rest of the season the next day.  We pretty much stayed in my room until dinner time watching Gossip Girl.  It was sad yet awesome at the same time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Today I went to my cousin's house with my two cousins and my sister for lunch, which was really good.  I got to meet her dog, who scared me a bit because he is really energetic and apparently likes to hump people's legs.  A lot.  But he loved me and didn't violate me at all.  We watched Sex and the City before we had to go, which was pretty funny because my cousins didn't let me watch any of the sex scenes (since I was the youngest of us five).  After that, I went to Jessica's house to watch Superbad with her and Brittany.  I stayed at her house for dinner, until my dad had to come pick me up at the only time he could.  I spent the next two hours at a junior hockey team.  I had my camera with me, so I just snapped hundreds of pictures and it was actually really fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;For a short period of time, I felt really alone and I really missed what I used to have.  I'm getting over that again.  I guess I've realized that I'm starting to forget what I felt, and that scares me.  I never thought I'd lose that feeling.  I guess it's alright; I mean, I should let go of these things in order to move on.  It's just that that feeling was so incredible, so amazing that I don't want to let it go. I guess I'm just going to have to be patient and wait for that feeling to come back.  Hopefully, the next time it will be more brilliant and last forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-2113380698159415978?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2113380698159415978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2113380698159415978&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2113380698159415978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2113380698159415978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/12/everybody-broke-me-up.html' title='everybody broke me up'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3073796711410279801</id><published>2008-12-23T23:14:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T23:29:02.679-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>good times gonna come</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It's become almost a chore to write in here, I must admit.  But I'm always so scared that I'm going to some day forget my life, and this just gives me those small reminders.  Sometimes, when I don't have anything to do, I'll go back and read the archives of this blog to remember things that happened.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But anyways.  It's been really cold outside, but that doesn't stop my friends and I from going tobogganing, apparently.  Megan, Cailey, Kevin, Emily, Gavin, and I went out on Sunday to go to sledding after a lot of confusion caused by Mikki, about it being too cold and postponing.  We all showed up anyways, except for Mikki and Cailey, and even though it was kind of cold from the wind, we still stayed out for probably forty five minutes or so.  Our best run down was when Megan showed up, and we all went down in a train.  It was wicked.  On my last run down, Kevin pushed us when our feet weren't even off the snow, so I kept kicking up snow into my face.  By the time we were at the bottom, I was covered from head to toe in snow, my face was freezing and wet, and my left hand, which was exposed since it was still holding my camera, had lost feeling that wouldn't return for another fifteen minutes.  Kevin and I then went back to Cailey's house and played speed.  When everyone else came back, we drank chocolate milk and played big two before my dad picked me up, and my sister and I went to Market Mall to look for a gift for my mom.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;That night, I went out for dinner with my junior high friends because my friend from Chicago was back in town this week.  We went out for sushi, and it was a lot of fun laughing and remembering things that happened back in the day.  I spent a lot of money on food.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Today I met up with them again for brunch at Nellie's.  Maggie and I had massive meals, so we ended up boxing all of our toast and Jade's pancake, and giving it to a homeless guy.  Brunch was so much fun.  I don't even really know what we talk about, but I'm always laughing and it's just like the old days.  We met up with Cecilia, and then went skating at the oval.  Which was pretty hilarious because Cecilia and Maggie don't really know how to skate.  There was only one wipeout, but it hurt Cecilia pretty badly.  We skated for probably forty minutes before we finally had to go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm so happy that Jacqui's back in town, reuniting with those guys is always a blast.  We're going to have our traditional sleepover later this week, which should be premium.  Christmas is so soon!  I'm even excited for tomorrow, I think there is some excellent family bonding time in the forecast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-3073796711410279801?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3073796711410279801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3073796711410279801&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3073796711410279801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3073796711410279801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/12/good-times-gonna-come.html' title='good times gonna come'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-8059782704853102052</id><published>2008-12-20T23:40:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T23:29:55.309-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>it's starting to look like it's going to be a bright beautiful day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It's been almost a week since I've posted on here, and honestly it feels kind of weird.  I always check to see how many visitors I had that day, and I always check my blog to see who updated their blog, but I never bother to write anything.  I'm not taking as many pictures either.  I'm just getting a bit tired of trying to relive my past.  It's so much easier to just sit back and live.  Don't take me wrong, I still absolutely love taking pictures, but I never feel like taking pictures of things that have been happening, like at parties or get togethers.  I just like preserving images.  Whenever I'm on the c-train, or anywhere outside, my mind likes to see everything like a photograph I should take.  I don't know.  I wish I lived a more interesting life, where my pictures could actually mean something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;This past week has been pretty eventful.  I'll try to condense it as much as possible.  I went out somewhere every day after school except for on Monday.  On Tuesday I stayed after school and scorekept girls' basketball.  Both our teams lost, but watching the junior team play was absolutely brutal.  It was like watching grade seven basketball all over again; nobody knew how to run plays, everyone just flung the ball at the hoop whenever they had the chance, and it was just overall terrible.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;On Wednesday we didn't have choir, so Mikki and I headed downtown to do some Christmas shopping.  We went to Nation, Looks Could Kill, Shisomiso, and Uppercase in Art Central.  We went around TD square looking for a store that sold icecream scoopers, but we had no luck.  I should have studied math a lot harder that night, but I didn't.  The next day at school I wrote my conics test and it sucked royally.  I've never done so bad on my math test, but at least I get to replace it.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;We found out that we didn't have band after school Thursday, so I went Christmas shopping to get more things.  I first went to Kensington and tried to look for some stuff, but I didn't get anything.  Plus it was really cold outside.  I went back to the train to head downtown.  A woman came and sat across from me.  She asked for a kleenex, and then a quarter.  When we reached downtown, she asked if I could hold the door for her while she paid for a transit fare, so I did and when we both went back to our seats, we started talking about a lot of things.  She is taking fine arts and humanities, or something like that.  We talked about our families, which were really contrasting with their views on education and stuff, which then led to so many things.  I wish that we could have talked more, but I had to get off the train.  I am so terrible with names, though, so I can't remember what hers was.  Plus, I was trying to get off the train before it left the platform.  My brain is so bad with concentrating.  I bought Mikalina's present and then headed back to the university to meet Kate and Brittany for Oklahoma!.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The walk to MacEwan Hall was terrible.  I was so cold, and it felt like forever.  I ate dinner in Mac Hall, and then met up with Kate and Brittany.  Okalahoma! was pretty interesting.  They all had western twangs so Brittany and I could hardly tell what anyone was saying.  And we only got the gist of the plot.  The singing and acting was really good, but the plot kind of sucked.  When I got home, I had to frantically finish my CALM homework and then wrap presents.  I ended up going to bed at three in the morning.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Friday was awesome because we didn't have to do anything in class and periods were so much shorter.  After school was done, we headed to Megan's house.  We walked with Gavin up to the train station.  I ended up talking to Gavin the entire time we walked with him, and it was really nice.  I love talking to him.  I gave him a hug before he left, and today he told me he was glad that I did, because our very first hug was on the last day of school last year.  I was amazed that he remembered that, because I didn't even realize it until he mentioned it.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Anyways, the walk to Megan's was a million times worse than the walk to the university.  Mainly because it was probably a half hour walk.  My legs stung, and then I couldn't really feel them anymore.  When we finally reached her house, the insides of my legs first went burning out, and then freezing cold.  It felt like if there was ice water flowing through my veins.  I couldn't stop shivering and I was so cold for so long.  I just can't take this temperature.  Gift exchange was really fun, I really like the stuff that I got.  While we were having lunch, Megan made a weird facial expression which set Cailey and Mikki off.  They couldn't stop laughing for five minutes straight.  After that, we all calmed down for a bit, but then suddenly they started laughing again, and Cailey's laugh is so funny when she's laughing hard that I started to laugh.  And everyone was laughing, and we couldn't stop.  My stomach was in so much pain, but whenever I heard Cailey laugh, I would laugh.  I was on the ground laughing, and it was so ridiculous.  We spent fifteen minutes laughing basically because somebody else was laughing.  I went to the kitchen and tried to pour a cup of milk, but even that was a hard task because I didn't want to spill the milk while I was laughing.  It was absolutely crazy.  I've never laughed so hard in my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;After that, we all got pretty tired from laughing.  I went to work, and it was pretty dead.  When I got home, I showed my sister the game of Pickup Sticks that Cailey got me, so my sisters and I started playing that.  It was intense; our family's pretty much all about competition, and we always want to win.  After that, we played again with my brother.  Every time he messed one up, he'd hit the other ones and ruin the game for us.  Well, him ruining the game made me win the game.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Today I worked, and it wasn't too bad.  It was pretty busy for most of the day, which occupied my time.  After work I went to band practice at Gavin's, and we did some playing.  After the other guys left and I was waiting for my dad to come, we talked and it just felt so easy.  I'm so bad at making conversation sometimes, but nowadays with him I always have stuff to say.  It's great.  Right now life is great.&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/5069915088624899434-8059782704853102052?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/8059782704853102052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=8059782704853102052&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8059782704853102052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8059782704853102052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/12/its-starting-to-look-like-its-going-to.html' title='it&apos;s starting to look like it&apos;s going to be a bright beautiful day'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-8025740226180506426</id><published>2008-12-14T11:12:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T22:16:17.259-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>i hold my breath and disappear inside myself</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;It is freezing outside!  I am sitting on my couch beside the window that is not stopping the cold from coming in and so my feet are cold.  But I love the snow, and how it glitters in the light, and I just want it to keep snowing.  However, it's just sunny and freezing.  I worked Friday and Saturday, which was pretty decent because nobody wants to go out in the cold, so I got paid to do pretty much nothing.  I played Freecell and Hearts and Solitaire.  Practiced my putting a bit.  Went on Facebook.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Friday after school I went out for lunch with Natalie and Kate, and that was really fun.  We were going to go to Mongolie Grill, but when we got there we found out that the Dalhousie location does not exist anymore.  That was pretty shocking.  But we ended up going to Boston Pizza, and Natalie got the most monstrous pasta.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I'm really not talking in chronological order, but oh well.  Last night after work my dad took me to Superstore so I could get more canned stuffed for Aberhart's food drive.  While we were there, he showed me this camera that's not quite a DSLR, but it's almost.  It's DSLR shaped, and it has 12x zoom and it's 10.0 megapixels.  He asked me if I wanted it, and I told him that I'd research it and tell him later, because until midnight you could get double the GST off your purchase.  So we bought the food and went home, and I spent two hours or so watching Gossip Girl and looking up reviews and descriptions of the camera.  The more I read about it, the more I liked it.  It has so many extra features that my current camera doesn't have, like a sport function, or fireworks, or panorama!  So I decided that it was the only Christmas present that I wanted.  I mean, I wanted a DSLR, but I didn't want my parents to spend that much money on me (like if they would) so I didn't ask for it at all.  And this was pretty close, and I don't need all the manual functions anyways.  Plus it was pretty cheap.  I told my dad that I wanted it, so we headed out at 11:20 to go get the camera and then pick up my sister.  Except, when we got to Superstore, the electronics department was closed despite the fact the Superstore is supposed to be open for 24 hours.  The guy there told us that someone might be back at midnight, so we went to go pick up my sister and then went back.  Nobody was there, so my dad told me that he'd go this morning.  My sister went to buy some stuff, but the servers for the self checkout froze and so we were at Superstore much longer than we thought.  When we finally got that settled, we headed back home, and I stayed up until three  reading up about that camera and watching Gossip Girl.  I am completely up to date, and now I have to wait until January 5 to watch the next episode.  Which feels like so long, since I watched like two episodes a day.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Since it is so freezing cold today, I'm just going to hole myself up in my house and catch up on some other TV shows I missed.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Hopefully my dad will come home with the camera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;  Last night I had a dream that I was in Gossip Girl, and I was taking pictures with that camera.  It was a really weird jumble of events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;  two step - dave matthews band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-8025740226180506426?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/8025740226180506426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=8025740226180506426&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8025740226180506426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8025740226180506426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-hold-my-breath-and-disappear-inside.html' title='i hold my breath and disappear inside myself'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-135283730357081985</id><published>2008-12-11T22:35:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T23:01:00.082-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>so good when it ends, they'll never be friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; "&gt;Who knew that one simple note could change so many things?  Today was an absolutely great day.  It was so unexpected the way things happened, but I'm so glad for the people I know and the things that did happen.  One small thing led to another, and now I can honestly say that at this moment I am happy.  Happy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;This morning, when tutorials were ending, Mikki told me that she had something for me, but we had to go outside to get it.  I thought she was going to start a snow fight with me, but instead she uncovered a small mound of snow.  Mikalina brought me a small carton of Dibs icecream.  I've never had someone do something nice for me as a surprise like that, and wow.  It just made me feel so grateful that she is my friend, and I am so glad I made the choice to tell her about what was going on with my life right now.  Help was something so hard to ask for, but it was something I needed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Both of us were late for chemistry.  I forgot that our class switched rooms with another, so at first I almost walked into a classroom full of people I did not know.  Tori and Nancy "assigned" me a seat by writing Seto on the piece of tape on the desk between them.  The classroom we were in was funny and strange, with its obsessive pattern of three and bright lights.  I shared the dibs with my friends, and Tori and I had some pretty ridiculous moments.  It was probably because we were all sitting beside each other.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;When I was telling Cailey about my morning, she told me that she hadn't seen me this happy in about a month.  We joked and talked and made plans for the weekend.  I couldn't stop laughing and smiling.  During band after school, I walked into the band room to see Jordan and Bronwyn toilet-papering Natalie.  So of course I joined in.  My stomach hurt from laughing so hard.  I always enjoy band, and playing the timpani and wind chimes.  I liked today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I hope this feeling lasts.&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/5069915088624899434-135283730357081985?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/135283730357081985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=135283730357081985&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/135283730357081985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/135283730357081985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-good-when-it-ends-theyll-never-be.html' title='so good when it ends, they&apos;ll never be friends'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-331840921853118673</id><published>2008-12-10T18:31:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T00:20:08.819-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><title type='text'>when the leaves turn brown, i'll be around</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;How's this for a change of pace, I'm feeling ... not great, but better.  I've found someone who I write notes to telling them about why I'm acting the way I am, and just finally letting somebody actually know, and knowing that they know, makes this feel a whole lot lighter.  It's strange trying to remember how my laugh sounded, and I thought about that in chemistry class, when I actually laughed and it sounded so weird.  So unfamiliar.  I'm still having trouble falling asleep, but I'm starting to rely more on my friends.  Does that sound strange?  I have to justify this with the fact that I don't like giving any part of myself away (with one exception), but maybe I should.  Breaking down barriers seems easier than trying to build them.&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/5069915088624899434-331840921853118673?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/331840921853118673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=331840921853118673&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/331840921853118673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/331840921853118673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/12/when-leaves-turn-brown-ill-be-around.html' title='when the leaves turn brown, i&apos;ll be around'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-656813933235603703</id><published>2008-12-07T20:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T20:50:18.455-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>i'm so tired of being lonely</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; "&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I guess my ex-boyfriend gets a category of his own, only because he had such a huge impact on my life.  I’ve never really talked about this to anyone, because I hate sounding like a giddy girl who doesn’t care about anything else, but for some reason I find writing this here safe.  For some reason, I feel like I need to write this out.  Have you ever wished that someone would ask you what you were thinking?  Because if someone ever asked me that, instead of “what’s up?” or “how are you?”, then I’d tell them that I was thinking about him, all the time.  Even now, it’s still like that, and that is the reason why he is such an important part of my life.  He broke up with me a couple weeks ago, with the reason that he didn’t want a relationship, and that right now was not the right time.  We only dated for three months, but it felt like we just had a longer relationship, except condensed.  I spent almost every day I could with him, and I believe that I loved him.  I have only ever dated two people in my life, and so nothing compared to the way I felt about him.  We talked every day.  I told him all of my secrets, my thoughts, and my feelings.  I loved being around him all the time, just to hear his voice, or feel his touch.  I couldn’t see myself without him.  One day, when I did doubt our relationship, he told me not to doubt him, and that he loved me, and that we’d be together for a long time.  But here we are now, separate.  I never saw this coming, and it hurts so much.  I guess a part of life is adjusting, and I should accept this loss and move on, and so right now I am trying as hard as I can to be happy.  Another characteristic about me is that I tend to hide things on the inside.  I don’t trust people enough to tell them how I feel; he was the only exception.  Now, I work so hard to act like I’m okay, even though on the inside it really doesn’t feel that way.  Another way this event has affected me is that it has made me so extremely self-conscious.  Every day, I start thinking about the reasons why he could have done this to me, and then I start thinking of all my flaws, and it justifies his actions.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I wrote this on September 23, as part of my autobiography in CALM.  It's all still true.  I'm sorry this blog has turned into this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-656813933235603703?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/656813933235603703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=656813933235603703&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/656813933235603703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/656813933235603703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-so-tired-of-being-lonely.html' title='i&apos;m so tired of being lonely'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-8155880687319594526</id><published>2008-12-05T21:13:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T21:23:28.074-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>so for the rest of my life i'm going to search for someone just like you</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I've been thinking over this so much, to the point where I'm losing so much sleep and I'm constantly finding tears in my eyes.  I honestly don't want to feel like this, I want to move on and be consistently happy.  I want to stop thinking about you all the time.  I want to stop wondering what you're thinking, or if you still want to be my friend, or if you're just so weirded out about all of this.  I got a honesty box message with words that are just so true, but I don't know how to tell anyone about this.  It is just so much easier to write this without worrying about any immediate judgement.  Why do I trust this so much more than an actual friend?  It just feels like even I don't completely understand what I'm feeling, and so I highly doubt anyone else will be able to tell me anything that will make me feel better.  Actually, one person probably could, but those words will never ever be spoken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I don't know how to move on.  I don't know how to rid myself of everything single memory that I have with you, and all of the feelings that I used to have.  You convinced me of so many things.  I believed so many things you said, and then you went back on your word.  That's part of the pain.  But there's so much to it.  Now that there's so much space between us, I continuously wonder if you ever loved me at all.  I always wonder how you could get over me so fast.  If I was just like any of the other girls you went out with.  If I ever meant that much to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I will never hate you.  But I hate the fact that you didn't feel the way I ever felt about you, and how you never will.  I hate the fact that I wasn't worth holding on to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;And that's what hurts the most.&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/5069915088624899434-8155880687319594526?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/8155880687319594526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=8155880687319594526&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8155880687319594526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/8155880687319594526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-for-rest-of-my-life-im-going-to.html' title='so for the rest of my life i&apos;m going to search for someone just like you'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-3978268688385574365</id><published>2008-11-30T20:28:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T00:22:20.396-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>the buildup lasted for days, lasted for weeks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="text-align: justify; font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;What  does facing disappointment feel like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My hands are cold as ice.  My legs are shaking, my heart is trying to slow down from anticipation.  I can hear the dry sobbing in my mind.  It's almost like heartbreak all over again.  And I haven't even hit this disappointment yet for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You didn't tell me your answer, and that's not fair.  Please talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;edit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disappointment did come.  But at least it came with some relief.  I don't regret telling you because I've been needing to tell you anyways.  If you're moving on, I'm moving on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't stop me from crying while you said goodbye, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;  willow tree - chad vangaalen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/5069915088624899434-3978268688385574365?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/3978268688385574365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=3978268688385574365&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3978268688385574365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/3978268688385574365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/11/buildup-lasted-for-days-lasted-for.html' title='the buildup lasted for days, lasted for weeks'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-168746310830384752</id><published>2008-11-29T23:03:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T00:19:45.999-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>called for you everywhere</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;There are ups and downs, and today was definitely an up kind of day, weird as it was.  It started out with Kim picking me up to go to the theatre with her, her sister, and Chelsea.  We went to Boston Pizza for a extremely long lunch, which was pretty good because 1)I didn't have breakfast so I was extremely hungry and 2)I ordered chicken tenders, which might just be my favorite food.  I blame Ali and golf clubhouses.  Chicken tenders and plum sauce is just too good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;We made it to the theatre just on time, and they ripped me off on M&amp;amp;Ms.  We watched Twilight, which wasn't the best movie of my life but it wasn't the worst.  It was mediocre.  I had a good time nonetheless with the people I was hanging out with, though.  I like listening to people, especially when I don't have anything to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home to an empty house, so I decided to play piano for forty minutes.  I just practiced this one song that I really like but haven't played in a while.  Final Fantasy is the man.  When my mom and sister got home, my sister drove me to her friend's apartment because it was the only way I'd be able to get to my friend's concert on 17th Ave.  We watched Gossip Girls, which I have to admit I'm a bit interested in, now that I've watched to episodes.  Right as we speak, I am downloading the entire season one on my computer.  Thank goodness for BitTorrents and external hard drives.  The estimated time remaining for the download is about 3 days and 19 hours, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister dropped me off at Tubby Dog at 7:20, and my friend Jessica's band, The Throwaways, didn't start playing until probably 7:50.  I ran into some of my friends (or people I was kind of acquainted with), and we definitely didn't fit in.  The show was definitely for the punk scene, and I am not punk.  The most punk thing about the whole of us was Karisa's skull patterned shoes.  And believe me, they weren't punk (or "hardcore") at all.  Jessica's set was only about fifteen minutes long, so we left shortly after because it just felt so weird and out of place.  We went to a book store down the street, and Abbey bought a bunch of VHS tapes.  I had some good conversations with Kate and Karisa, which was cool because I don't really know them very well.  But they're really funny and it's nice to laugh.  I couldn't get a hold of my sister, so thankfully Kate's dad drove me home, because I didn't want to hang out alone downtown, with a whole lot of drunk punks around.  More interesting conversations ensued.  I had a good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I went to Gavin's worship at his church.  I enjoyed it; it's given me a new perspective on things.  I met some cool people, and I might just go to youth and the other small groups stuff that happens there.  Who knows?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&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/5069915088624899434-168746310830384752?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/168746310830384752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=168746310830384752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/168746310830384752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/168746310830384752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/11/called-for-you-everywhere.html' title='called for you everywhere'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-5914052576567926072</id><published>2008-11-26T22:43:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T22:56:12.296-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>you gotta make mistakes, you're young</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I never know why I always answer "fine" when asked how I'm feeling.  I don't feel anything but fine.  I feel uneasy, restless, tired, sad.  There are so many things other than "fine" that I'm feeling, but I have no need to feel these things.  All signs lead to fine, but I'm not.  I'm not fine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Everything's such a contradiction now.  I want to hang out with people, but I want to be alone.  I want more time, but I want the days to go by faster.  I'm so happy, but with the most crippling feeling of dispair that sometimes it blinds me and I can't see anything but the wrong.  I feel like I know the things I should know, yet it never shows itself on tests.  I am such a huge hypocrite.  My mind wages battle on itself, coming up with ideas and plans and then going back on them and acting in a completely opposite way.  I want somebody to know and understand but I don't want to tell anyone about my problems.  My mind has created its own artifical drought, and my supply of thoughts has been cut off.  I'm choking.  And this is all wrong.  I keep telling myself that life is good, yet I don't see any good.  I am a waste of so much.  I feel so unneeded in disregarded by everyone, like I'm an accessory that's worn only when needed to highlight something else.  And there's nobody who knows me enough to know that I'm not fine.  It feels like all of this self-loathing is written on my face, and echoing from inside my mind, but nobody's reading hard enough; nobody's quiet enough to listen.  I am such an awful person.  It almost feels like I'm trying to conjure up more and more problems to weigh me down, but I'm not; it's like if an atomic bomb was dropped into my mind, immediately destroying everything in sight, and then seeping into everything else, slowing creating dangerous effects that grow after time.  This is the worst feeling.   I need to get out of my mind, or figure out what's wrong.  I need to fix myself.&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/5069915088624899434-5914052576567926072?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/5914052576567926072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=5914052576567926072&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5914052576567926072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/5914052576567926072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/11/you-gotta-make-mistakes-youre-young.html' title='you gotta make mistakes, you&apos;re young'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-2154768166576560493</id><published>2008-11-23T17:38:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T21:35:38.986-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>don't get offended if i seem absent minded</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I really wish that our guys and girls would've won yesterday, but I'm still really proud of our teams and I think that they both played extremely well.  I watched with Nancy, Mikki, Alison, and Bonnie, and it was a lot of fun.  The guys' game was extremely exhilarating, and my throat was pretty much bleeding after because Aberhart fans cheered so loudly to beat the Bowness fans.  We definitely were more united with our cheering.  After the game, I went to Mikki's house and had dinner.  Gavin, Kevin, and Alex came over an hour and a half later, and then Tess and Ciaran came.  We all went into the hot tub and had some conversations.  The hot tub made me feel so extremely sleepy, but it was nice just listening to everyone talk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Today I slept into until twelve, which felt really nice because I haven't done that in a while.  Today was more of a hang around the house kind of day, and it wasn't too bad.  I'm starting to learn how to play the clarinet.  So far I can play from F to B flat chromatically.  We're going to have roast beef for dinner, and it smells so good right now that my brain is drooling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Last night was really good for the sole fact that Mikki and I had a really good heart to heart that I don't usually have on a daily basis.  She is just so easy to relate to, and I love listening to her talk, and talking to her.  For the past week my heart has felt so heavy, and it always feels like if I hit a problem anytime soon, I'm just going to lose it and burst into tears.  I'm not even sure why this is.  I'm trying pretty hard to move on, and to convince myself that now is not the time for what I want, but I guess I just have a small sense of jealousy that seems to kick in without me even wanting it to.  I don't want to be jealous.  I don't want to feel like I need him.  It just always comes lurking in the corner of my mind and infects all of my thoughts.  My life right now feels like oil on water; all of the great things in my life are there, but only floating on my crappy feelings.  I need a really, really big hug.&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/5069915088624899434-2154768166576560493?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/2154768166576560493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=2154768166576560493&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2154768166576560493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/2154768166576560493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/11/dont-get-offended-if-i-seem-absent.html' title='don&apos;t get offended if i seem absent minded'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6715336677836217191</id><published>2008-11-22T10:34:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T10:49:55.978-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The weekend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreaming'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>i'm seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; "&gt;Two nights ago, I had a dream with so many parts that are blurry, I remember just one bit:  I was walking, presumably in a mall, by a rail when you came up beside me.  I put my arm around your waist, and suddenly you put yours around mine, and told me that you thought that we should try again.  I've never had something in a dream feel so real, but I remember how warm your hand was, and how comfortable and natural it was.  But a dream is just a dream, and it's nothing but wistful thoughts.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Yesterday was the first day I've gone out with my friends and done something in a long time.  Megan and I went to Art Central right after school, and we visited the majority of the stores in there.  My favorite is still Uppercase.  After, we were about to exit when we discovered that there was a roof park.  So we went up there and got a great view of the c-trains, the streets, and the Calgary Tower.  After that, we decided to walk to TD without going outside, which required going a long way around using the +15 walkways.  On our way, we ran into Stephanie N, Jenny, and Stephanie D, and we decided to race to TD because we were going opposite ways.  They won, because Megan and I accidentally went the wrong way once.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;After we got to TD, we went straight to the train and headed back to Megan's house for dinner.  We watched the beginning of Get Smart with her sister and her friends, and then we headed to the theatre to watch Quantam of Solace with Kevin and Gavin.  It turned out that the show we wanted to catch was sold out, so we went to Paul's house and hung out there for a while.  We watched Tokyo Drift in weird colours.  After that, we dropped Megan off at Crowfoot and went to Stephanie D's house to watch a movie.  We went down to her super nice house and played pool and Rock Band.  Finally, at like ten, we started watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  I am such a chicken when it comes to horror flicks.  The whole time, I was hiding under my pillow beside Kevin, who is pretty scared of horror movies too.  It was pretty fun.  Gavin kept trying to take the pillow away and make me watch, but I hate seeing people get their body parts destroyed.  At least I actually watched most of the movie.  And I didn't get any nightmares!&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/5069915088624899434-6715336677836217191?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6715336677836217191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6715336677836217191&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6715336677836217191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6715336677836217191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-seeing-in-me-now-things-you-swore.html' title='i&apos;m seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-762794595660479310</id><published>2008-11-20T21:11:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T21:23:28.056-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><title type='text'>i'm going to roll through the warmth without you here</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; "&gt;My throat hurts and my hands are sore, but I haven't been filled with so much school spirit in a while.  Nancy and I watched the senior girls' volleyball team play in the semi-finals, and it was actually terrifying to watch.  Advancing this round didn't appear as easy as beating Bishop Carroll.  I came from band in the middle of the second match, and Nancy told me that we had won the first game 25-12.  Unfortunately, when I sat down, we were tied 11-11, and Beaverbrook scored nine uncontested points before we finally scored five more points and ended up losing.  Nancy and I were honestly sitting there with our heads in our hands.  Spikes were getting blocked, serves were either too short or too long, and the second hit always seemed so unsure.  However, we came back in the third game with a dominating 25-14 win.  It was a shaky start, but before long, they were finding the gaps and spiking without returns.  We were racking up points and the crowd was going crazy.  This match was ours; we were meant to go to the finals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Of course, you have to fight hard to get to the top, and the girls went neck and neck, constantly tying, or mere points away from each other.  Aberhart went ahead, and then Beaverbrook, and the score constantly juggled back and forth.  Once Beaverbrook was up 19-17, Nancy and I were shaking in our seats.  But the girls stepped up, and answered Beaverbrook's obnoxious cries by tying the score.  Then we were a point ahead.  Two up.  Three points up.  Suddenly it was 24-20, and we were all waiting for the definitive spike to end the game.  We lost the serve and the point, but, determined not to let go, they set up the ball perfectly and slammed one down into the other side of the court.  Beaverbrook couldn't return it, and the gym was in an uproar.  We're going to city champs, baby.  And in the most exciting way possible.&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/5069915088624899434-762794595660479310?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/762794595660479310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=762794595660479310&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/762794595660479310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/762794595660479310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-going-to-roll-through-warmth-without.html' title='i&apos;m going to roll through the warmth without you here'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-6234779680763588820</id><published>2008-11-18T23:19:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T23:25:40.660-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>i don't care what they say, i'm in love with you</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;This day has been nothing but thoughts.  As much as I want and need you, it just might not be good.  School is good and my friends are great.  Our relationship right now is at a good point.  I might as well not ruin things.  This cut runs extremely deep.  I guess it's going to take longer than two months, but nonetheless it will heal?  We'll have to see how things turn out.  I think my conscience is warning me of things.  I am almost absolutely sure that you don't want the things that I do.  Nothing adds up, but if we look at the entire reason why I feel like a mess, it makes sense.  You don't want me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I had a good talk today.  These days it's so easy to take everything and internalize it.  I never told anybody what I told you, even though the words form so clearly in my head.  I just really wanted to talk to you, and I'm glad I did.  You are a really good listener and a really great friend.  I was afraid I wouldn't know how to say things, even though I so badly needed to let it all out, but with you things are so easy.  Thank you so much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-6234779680763588820?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/6234779680763588820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=6234779680763588820&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6234779680763588820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/6234779680763588820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-dont-care-what-they-say-im-in-love.html' title='i don&apos;t care what they say, i&apos;m in love with you'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-7816140180361276443</id><published>2008-11-17T16:41:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T17:00:29.322-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreaming'/><title type='text'>i hope that he keeps you up for weeks like you did to me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I had a really vivid dream last night that I actually thought was real, except for some unknown reason I woke up and of course I never got to finish it.  Anyways, it was three in the morning at that time, and I decided to type it all out on my iPod so I wouldn't forget it.  So, here it is, transcribed by my half-awake mind:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;"The whole dream takes place at night.  I am home alone in my house, in my mom's room when some random boy comes in with a bunch of plates.  We both hide beside a drawer against the wall.  A police officer comes in and searches, the kid moves from the drawer to under the side of the bed opposite the officer.  The officer looks under there and catches him.  We both book it.  For some reason the officer just stays there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I'm hanging out outisde when I run into Cole.  He's going to play a school soccer game so I tell him I'll come watch.  He's practicing his kick from a long ways away while I eat my dinner.  I wash all of my plates and put them in a random rack by a house.  Cole is kicking the ball into a tree.  He comes by to get the ball, and his friend comes by and tells him he's kicking really well.   Warren Chong suddenly opens the door of the house and sees the plates.  He's really angry and he tries to find out who did it.  I grab the plates and Cole and I run inside and into a bedroom exactly like my mom's.  We both hide beside the drawer.  He comes into the room and I move to the side of the bed opposite from him.  Warren goes and looks under the bed.  I try to get up so I'm kneeling and my head isn't under the bed but he sees my legs.  Cole and I book it and for some reason Warren stays where he is.  (For some odd reason, Cole is narrating what we are doing from this moment.)  We run outside, down the street in the shadow of the trees because now the cops are after us too.  We make it down and around the corener, where his house is.  The plates mysteriously disappear.  Tamara (who, for another strange reason, is his girlfriend) drives by in a small tan car her dad is driving, because they're picking Cole up to go to the game.  I sit in the back and Cole sits up with her dad.  I introduce myself to her dad, and he tries to introduce me to Cole, although we already know each other.  Cole informs him of this by saying, "well, if I didn't know her, we wouldn't own a car together!"  There is a huge rose in the front, with the flower part cut off, from Cole.  Tamara has the flower part.  The stem is like a tree branch.  Out of nowhere, Cole gives Tamara a normal size rose.  He also pulls out a plate of tiny cut sausages and offers them to everyone.  I think about the fact that this is the craziest night of my year."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I had another dream after that one, but I didn't write it down and I wish I did.  All I can remember is that it had something to do with a c-train, and my older sister crossing the tracks to get something and stopping the train in order to cross back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5069915088624899434-7816140180361276443?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/7816140180361276443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=7816140180361276443&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7816140180361276443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7816140180361276443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-hope-that-he-keeps-you-up-for-weeks.html' title='i hope that he keeps you up for weeks like you did to me'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-7776050339568207055</id><published>2008-11-16T14:17:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T14:33:15.110-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings and Shit'/><title type='text'>there's nothing to keep my fingers warm</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; "&gt;Honesty was how I got you, maybe it's how it can fix things.  It's so strange how willing I am to talk about this on a public blog, yet I am too scared to tell you any of this.  I'm afraid that you don't want the same thing as me, and that it will ruin our friendship.  But this is how things were like before June, and look at what happened.  I fell in love with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I want to win you back, not because this is a game, but because I really need you.  Because I feel like I'm on the wrong level of happiness, and the only way I can level up is to be with you.  I am totally fine without you, but it feels so wrong that we are not together.  I know I sound really desperate and dumb but I think about all of this all the time.  I think about all of the things we used to do and I miss it all so much.  It's so constant, like a fog horn ringing through my head in the wrong key.  You may think that this is the right path, but to me this is such a huge mistake.  I told you that I wouldn't have changed anything, but honestly, I would have changed the ending.  We have taken the wrong path.  It's getting me deeper and deeper into this thick forest, and I feel so lost.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I want to tell you all of this, but I don't know when the right time is, what the right words are, or if you feel the same way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;  this lamb sells condos - final fantasy&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/5069915088624899434-7776050339568207055?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/7776050339568207055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=7776050339568207055&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7776050339568207055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/7776050339568207055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/11/honesty-was-how-i-got-you-maybe-its-how.html' title='there&apos;s nothing to keep my fingers warm'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5069915088624899434.post-4083240654204028248</id><published>2008-11-15T14:31:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T14:38:25.080-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscellaneous'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good things'/><title type='text'>i know we're going to be the lucky ones</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;This week was so short and I loved it.  The school stuff that was supposed to worry me didn't; I felt okay about my social studies essay, my social studies and math test went well and I didn't feel all freaked out about it like I usually do.  My report card was good, and I'm almost done my university application.  I drew a logo for my sister's friends' podcast, and the two frustrating days spent on the tablet PC was really worth it.  Natalie loved her birthday present, and her dinner was really, really fun.  I love hanging out and talking, especially when you're surrounded by the most hilarious people.  Diana drove Mikki, Kate, Ramon, and me home and it was pretty adventurous.  Her reaction time to braking is actually terrifying.  Grad proofs came back yesterday, and I'm actually happy with how they turned out.  For once, I actually looked good.  My friends are amazing and they're trying to convince me to choose photography as my career, but I don't think I'm there yet, and although sometimes I doubt my choice of computer sciences, I think I will enjoy it and I think I'll like web design.  Hopefully everything will work out with me that way.  I'm going to have to go to guidance and check to see if I have all of the right courses.  I'm pretty sure I do.  I'm doing a drawing right now of a zebra, and it's making me remember how much I love drawing.  Last night, I had a strange dream about watching volleyball or playing it.  My alarm made me forget it all, and I only remembered the fact that Cole was in my dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;listening to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;  do the whirlwind - architecture in helsinki&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/5069915088624899434-4083240654204028248?l=allisonfire.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/feeds/4083240654204028248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5069915088624899434&amp;postID=4083240654204028248&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4083240654204028248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5069915088624899434/posts/default/4083240654204028248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonfire.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-know-were-going-to-be-lucky-ones.html' title='i know we&apos;re going to be the lucky ones'/><author><name>allison</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00430090673969947674</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/_r-UWdJydTMI/Sych4LKW-QI/AAAAAAAAAGE/wgo-h_-Qgu4/S220/DSCF5021.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
