<?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-8353612510677892358</id><updated>2011-10-04T14:55:57.780-04:00</updated><title type='text'>This Is Not A Replacement, But A Movement Forward</title><subtitle type='html'>Basic life musings of a college student. I deal with the whole lot: emotions, friends, boys.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>82</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-3566002453618757856</id><published>2011-10-04T14:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T14:55:57.587-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>spent today thinking about how kansas city royals whole team makes like 3 million more as a team than ARod makes by himself on the yankees...  #yankeesareoverpaidedandstillsuck #ARodsucks #DetroitvsRangersALCS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wanted to put this up as a facebook status... but I have a friend who is a yankee's fan... (don't know why anyone would be that...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well at least I got it out somewhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-3566002453618757856?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/3566002453618757856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=3566002453618757856' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3566002453618757856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3566002453618757856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2011/10/spent-today-thinking-about-how-kansas.html' title=''/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5541908860270093380</id><published>2011-03-10T13:11:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T13:29:32.765-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 07</title><content type='html'>- A picture of your most treasured item.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s6UUH_tCn1k/TXkYQ_0Y9YI/AAAAAAAAAKI/WT1uU_aRfac/s1600/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-03-10%2Bat%2B13.27.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s6UUH_tCn1k/TXkYQ_0Y9YI/AAAAAAAAAKI/WT1uU_aRfac/s320/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-03-10%2Bat%2B13.27.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582519893390587266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Piggy, the only non-human being I would grab if my house was on fire. I have had him since I was like 5 or 6 and I plan on having him forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5541908860270093380?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5541908860270093380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5541908860270093380' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5541908860270093380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5541908860270093380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-07.html' title='Day 07'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s6UUH_tCn1k/TXkYQ_0Y9YI/AAAAAAAAAKI/WT1uU_aRfac/s72-c/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-03-10%2Bat%2B13.27.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-1986492718580322641</id><published>2011-03-10T13:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T13:11:24.882-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 06</title><content type='html'>- A picture of a person you'd love to trade places with for a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mAjlkI244dU/TXkT4m6npjI/AAAAAAAAAKA/svWwhalJ4QM/s1600/vanessa_paradis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mAjlkI244dU/TXkT4m6npjI/AAAAAAAAAKA/svWwhalJ4QM/s320/vanessa_paradis.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582515076342457906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vanessa Paradis, Johnny Depp's "Spouse". Don't tell my boyfriend but to spend a day/night with Johnny Depp could be very interesting ;).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-1986492718580322641?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/1986492718580322641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=1986492718580322641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1986492718580322641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1986492718580322641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-06.html' title='Day 06'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mAjlkI244dU/TXkT4m6npjI/AAAAAAAAAKA/svWwhalJ4QM/s72-c/vanessa_paradis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-9025390005077098124</id><published>2011-03-10T12:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T12:59:58.346-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 05</title><content type='html'>- A picture of your favorite memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7gziJVkpc80/TXkRWldJVkI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/GBP1qDmD7MI/s1600/world%2Bseries"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7gziJVkpc80/TXkRWldJVkI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/GBP1qDmD7MI/s320/world%2Bseries" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582512292811593282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;World Series Game 4!!!! It was epic. I have to say its not my favorite memory but I didn't have a picture of the day I made Sachit ask me out. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-9025390005077098124?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/9025390005077098124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=9025390005077098124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/9025390005077098124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/9025390005077098124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-05.html' title='Day 05'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7gziJVkpc80/TXkRWldJVkI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/GBP1qDmD7MI/s72-c/world%2Bseries' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-1676077193265798793</id><published>2011-03-10T12:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T12:56:40.379-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 04</title><content type='html'>- A picture of something you wish you could forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qe9Qqy9UGkA/TXkQmtPQVxI/AAAAAAAAAJw/nVChyIcr3ig/s1600/14234_1187968989614_1539990045_30513589_7633599_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 252px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qe9Qqy9UGkA/TXkQmtPQVxI/AAAAAAAAAJw/nVChyIcr3ig/s320/14234_1187968989614_1539990045_30513589_7633599_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582511470267094802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I never would have done that. My hair underneath always does because it is forever damaged.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-1676077193265798793?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/1676077193265798793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=1676077193265798793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1676077193265798793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1676077193265798793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-04.html' title='Day 04'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qe9Qqy9UGkA/TXkQmtPQVxI/AAAAAAAAAJw/nVChyIcr3ig/s72-c/14234_1187968989614_1539990045_30513589_7633599_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7455030826091205854</id><published>2011-03-08T13:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T13:07:32.299-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 03</title><content type='html'>- A picture of the cast from your favorite show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o-s5lkowv6k/TXZwCUC78tI/AAAAAAAAAJo/rBGQO9BtV1k/s1600/how-i-met-your-mother-20100107000401699_640w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o-s5lkowv6k/TXZwCUC78tI/AAAAAAAAAJo/rBGQO9BtV1k/s320/how-i-met-your-mother-20100107000401699_640w.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581771973215384274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I Met Your Mother!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7455030826091205854?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7455030826091205854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7455030826091205854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7455030826091205854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7455030826091205854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-03.html' title='Day 03'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o-s5lkowv6k/TXZwCUC78tI/AAAAAAAAAJo/rBGQO9BtV1k/s72-c/how-i-met-your-mother-20100107000401699_640w.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7788791588609104408</id><published>2011-03-08T12:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T13:00:05.841-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2</title><content type='html'>- A picture of you and the person you used to be close with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k3AepZ4BPgs/TXZuh1rHV0I/AAAAAAAAAJg/LH9_2PXNxus/s1600/n1539990045_30013911_9505.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k3AepZ4BPgs/TXZuh1rHV0I/AAAAAAAAAJg/LH9_2PXNxus/s320/n1539990045_30013911_9505.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581770315794962242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you HARU! I wish we talked like we used to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7788791588609104408?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7788791588609104408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7788791588609104408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7788791588609104408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7788791588609104408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-2.html' title='Day 2'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k3AepZ4BPgs/TXZuh1rHV0I/AAAAAAAAAJg/LH9_2PXNxus/s72-c/n1539990045_30013911_9505.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5542576510140127946</id><published>2011-03-04T22:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T12:49:55.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>day 1</title><content type='html'>- A picture of yourself with fifteen facts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xaLRXLZCIsk/TXG09Y0gNaI/AAAAAAAAAJY/vAe7PE43hPI/s1600/water%2Band%2Bwine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xaLRXLZCIsk/TXG09Y0gNaI/AAAAAAAAAJY/vAe7PE43hPI/s320/water%2Band%2Bwine.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580440380016440738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I love my Cuddle Bug. SOOOOOO MUCH&lt;br /&gt;2. I'm lactose intolerant.&lt;br /&gt;3. I love ice cream esp. the cinnamon kind.&lt;br /&gt;4. I  really really want to own a bakery.&lt;br /&gt;5. I'm tired of not being in school. &lt;br /&gt;6. I grew up with no fears.&lt;br /&gt;7. Now I'm really kind of scared of a lot of things.&lt;br /&gt;8. I miss all of my friends that don't live near me, i.e. Haru and Julie. &lt;br /&gt;9. I still want a show on PBS.&lt;br /&gt;10. I want to go to Argentina like right now. &lt;br /&gt;11. I could live anywhere. &lt;br /&gt;12. I love my little puppy although she isn't really mine.&lt;br /&gt;13. I'm more of a cat person.&lt;br /&gt;14. I'm really quite happy most of the time. &lt;br /&gt;15. I love all the people that are in my life or have been in my life. Thanks for everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5542576510140127946?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5542576510140127946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5542576510140127946' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5542576510140127946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5542576510140127946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-1.html' title='day 1'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xaLRXLZCIsk/TXG09Y0gNaI/AAAAAAAAAJY/vAe7PE43hPI/s72-c/water%2Band%2Bwine.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-487026682327531353</id><published>2011-03-04T22:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-04T22:58:02.527-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the 30 day challenge</title><content type='html'>Day 01 - A picture of yourself with fifteen facts.&lt;br /&gt;Day 02 - A picture of you and the person you used to be close with.&lt;br /&gt;Day 03 - A picture of the cast from your favorite show.&lt;br /&gt;Day 04 - A picture of something you wish you could forget.&lt;br /&gt;Day 05 - A picture of your favorite memory.&lt;br /&gt;Day 06 - A picture of a person you'd love to trade places with for a day.&lt;br /&gt;Day 07 - A picture of your most treasured item.&lt;br /&gt;Day 08 - A picture that makes you laugh.&lt;br /&gt;Day 09 - A picture of the person who has gotten you through the most.&lt;br /&gt;Day 10 - A picture of the person you do the silliest things with.&lt;br /&gt;Day 11 - A picture of something you hate.&lt;br /&gt;Day 12 - A picture of something you love.&lt;br /&gt;Day 13 - A picture of your favorite band or artist.&lt;br /&gt;Day 14 - A picture of someone you could never imagine your life without.&lt;br /&gt;Day 15 - A picture of something you want to do before you die.&lt;br /&gt;Day 16 - A picture of someone who inspires you.&lt;br /&gt;Day 17 - A picture of something that has made a huge impact on your life recently.&lt;br /&gt;Day 18 - A picture of your biggest insecurity.&lt;br /&gt;Day 19 - A picture of you when you were little.&lt;br /&gt;Day 20 - A picture of somewhere you'd love to travel.&lt;br /&gt;Day 21 - A picture of your favorite night .&lt;br /&gt;Day 22 - A picture of something you wish you were better at.&lt;br /&gt;Day 23 - A picture of your favorite book.&lt;br /&gt;Day 24 - A picture of something you wish you could change.&lt;br /&gt;Day 25 - A picture of your favorite day.&lt;br /&gt;Day 26 - A picture of something that means a lot to you.&lt;br /&gt;Day 27 - A picture of yourself and a family member.&lt;br /&gt;Day 28 - A picture of something you're afraid of.&lt;br /&gt;Day 29 - A picture that can always make you smile.&lt;br /&gt;Day 30 - A picture of someone you miss..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-487026682327531353?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/487026682327531353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=487026682327531353' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/487026682327531353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/487026682327531353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2011/03/30-day-challenge.html' title='the 30 day challenge'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-4174642533448157552</id><published>2010-09-20T03:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T03:17:01.271-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 5 - Sept 20</title><content type='html'>Dear Dreams,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever really get to you. I try so hard sometimes and never really go anywhere. Other times I don't do shit and I find ways to get something accomplished. Keep me motivated to reach you, please. I need something to look forward to, otherwise why look forward?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Nicole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-4174642533448157552?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/4174642533448157552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=4174642533448157552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4174642533448157552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4174642533448157552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/09/day-5-sept-20.html' title='Day 5 - Sept 20'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7973489321772526936</id><published>2010-09-20T03:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T03:13:37.823-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 4 - Sept 19</title><content type='html'>Dear Jacy,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh dear, where to begin? You are a evil, mean, rotten, little sister but always remember you are my little sister. You might as well be 50 years old and you will still be my little sister, nothing will change that. I love and care about you more than you think I do. I hate when you do stupid things... and you know exactly what I'm talking about. You know better. I know, I know, I sound like mom but sometimes she is right, you know. I'm so glad you are my sister because I'm pretty sure you always have my back. I hope that you know I will always have yours. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Nicole&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Cody,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are rotten just as much as Jacy is but I hope you grow out of it real fast. I don't know if I can have two of you. I love you little bro. You are so smart and you can't seem to put it to good use. Don't make stupid mistakes because you are better than that. I know you are. Don't go talking bad mom either. She loves you more than the world. You are her baby and her little boy never forget that. (You can also use that to your advantage if you know how to work it right)... I love you Cody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Nicole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7973489321772526936?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7973489321772526936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7973489321772526936' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7973489321772526936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7973489321772526936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/09/day-4-sept-19.html' title='Day 4 - Sept 19'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-8049346404439990685</id><published>2010-09-20T03:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T03:05:35.437-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 3 - Sept 18</title><content type='html'>Dear Mom,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you more than anything. I was your first daughter and first child and I love you more than anything for bring me into this world. Everyday I think about what you have given up for me and I really do appreciate all of it. I might not show it all the time but I do. Thank you for anything and everything you do for me. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Nicole&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Daddy,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you too. I know things aren't always the easiest for me and you but I will always love you. You will forever me "my hunny." You inspire me to be myself and not care if others don't like it. You want me to be me and have no worries. We will always have our differences but we will always look alike so I'll never be able to escape you :). I love you always, don't forget it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Nicole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-8049346404439990685?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/8049346404439990685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=8049346404439990685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8049346404439990685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8049346404439990685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/09/day-3-sept-18.html' title='Day 3 - Sept 18'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-2624317600659837717</id><published>2010-09-20T02:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T03:00:17.639-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2 - Sept 17</title><content type='html'>Dear Crush,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to say any names here cause then it wouldn't really be a crush. But I want to just tell you I have had feelings for you for a long time now, like 4 years or more. You mean a lot to me. You are my friend and I really love being around you. Not everything might have really worked between us in the past but I hope the future has more to hold. God if you haven't figured out who this is you must be crazy. You make me want to be the old me, not this crazy woman I have become. I miss the old days but in a good way. I wouldn't change anything I have done or said. I just hope that the future hold something great for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Nicole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-2624317600659837717?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/2624317600659837717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=2624317600659837717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2624317600659837717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2624317600659837717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/09/day-2-sept-17.html' title='Day 2 - Sept 17'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-782625704694578462</id><published>2010-09-16T11:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:08:43.059-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 1 - Sept 16</title><content type='html'>Dearest Best Friend,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have just one of you. There are like 3 of you. So each gets a different letter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Erica,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are the greatest. You have been my best friend and Haru for like 7 years now. What would I do with out you? Probably lead a more normal life but who really wants normal. Through the hard times and the times that just required Starbucks you have been there. I am so sorry that we have drifted apart more as we have grown up. I still want to be your best friend. I want to be FIENDS forever! I just don't see you enough to be violent towards you :). I'm coming to visit soon though! I hope you know I do love you and HATE you (cause the violent part of fiendship (that is not a typo)).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Julie,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You make me so happy. I'm glad I finally decided to befriend you. At first when I met you I didn't think we could be very good friends but now I wish I could take every doubt back. You and you crazy little obsessions, I just love it. MARK-A-RITAS as soon as I get to see you again. You were there for me always. You never made me stop, you let me cry if need be and let me laugh if not. You never told me not to do stupid things just looked at me funny and I got the picture. I miss you a lot (encase I don't say that enough). I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Kristi,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are the newest of my best friends but I think that we will be best friends pretty much for ever, as you say "BFFLs" and "Ride or die bitches". I know that if I need someone to come over right now and just listen to me or let me cry you would let me. I thank you for everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Knee-cole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-782625704694578462?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/782625704694578462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=782625704694578462' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/782625704694578462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/782625704694578462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/09/day-1-sept-16.html' title='Day 1 - Sept 16'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-4651154540362579553</id><published>2010-09-15T20:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T20:18:38.455-04:00</updated><title type='text'>so...</title><content type='html'>Write a letter to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 1 : Your Best Friend.&lt;br /&gt;Day 2 : Your Crush.&lt;br /&gt;Day 3 : Your parents.&lt;br /&gt;Day 4 : Your sibling (or closest relative).&lt;br /&gt;Day 5 : Your dreams.&lt;br /&gt;Day 6 : A stranger.&lt;br /&gt;Day 7 : Your ex-boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;Day 8 : Your favorite internet friend.&lt;br /&gt;Day 9 : Someone you wish you could meet.&lt;br /&gt;Day 10 : Someone you don't talk to as much as you'd like to.&lt;br /&gt;Day 11 : A deceased person you wish you could talk to.&lt;br /&gt;Day 12 : The person that has caused you the most pain.&lt;br /&gt;Day 13 : Someone that has helped you. Day 14 : Someone that's new in your life.&lt;br /&gt;Day 15 : The person you miss the most.&lt;br /&gt;Day 16 : Someone that hasn't given up on you.&lt;br /&gt;Day 17 : Someone from your childhood.&lt;br /&gt;Day 18 : The person that you wish you could be.&lt;br /&gt;Day 19 : Someone that is younger than you.&lt;br /&gt;Day 20 : The one that broke your heart the hardest.&lt;br /&gt;Day 21 : Someone you judged by their first impression.&lt;br /&gt;Day 22 : Someone you want to give a second chance to.&lt;br /&gt;Day 23 : The last person you kissed.&lt;br /&gt;Day 24 : The person that gave you your favorite memory.&lt;br /&gt;Day 25 : The person you know that is going through the worst of times.&lt;br /&gt;Day 26 : The last person you made a pinky promise to.&lt;br /&gt;Day 27 : The friendliest person you know.&lt;br /&gt;Day 28 : Someone that is just like you.&lt;br /&gt;Day 29 : Someone you should have been nicer to.&lt;br /&gt;Day 30 : Yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;starting this tomorrow...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-4651154540362579553?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/4651154540362579553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=4651154540362579553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4651154540362579553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4651154540362579553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/09/so.html' title='so...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6356396984514448212</id><published>2010-06-04T11:58:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T12:18:09.455-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Four you I would travel the world</title><content type='html'>1. It's Jon's Birthday&lt;br /&gt;2. It the first day of summer... little people are out of school now.&lt;br /&gt;3. I SLEPT IN, until like 10.&lt;br /&gt;4. I had some fucked up dreams about the "new" Holocaust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is Friday. I like Fridays normally. I just feel like it's going to be plain and boring today. I don't know. Julie and Erica are at work and I'm at home, nothing to do. Maybe I should go wash my car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Holocaust dream: I wake up and we are being herded though these long lines. I don't have anyone I know but i see these people trying to escape so I follow them. I end up "joining their ranks." I'm not sure why I was going to be part of the people that were headed to doom but I knew I fit in well enough on the outside of it all. We keep helping more and more people try and get out of that mess. Not everyone wanted to come. I remember we got to wear silly costumes and fun wigs. I wore a pink one at one time and black leather. I think the people who were headed to die were the people I now avoid. The people that saved me were my friends and the people who were unaffected by the whole mess were the people who I could consider myself equal with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up sometime around 6 from that dream and wet into this weird dream that followed on that one. I was still in the "Holocaust" but it was later in life. I was at my friend Erica's house but it wasn't the one she lives in now. It was Christmas eve. I was trying to leave but they wouldn't let me go. I just wanted to be with my family. I really didn't know where they were but I had to find them. She told me I should just stay with them. I did. Her mom gave me a camera as a present. It used film and reminded me of my aunt's old one. I was so happy about it. Then I left to go back to the house I was staying at. I started talking to someone who had been rescued from the mess and we decided that we should find our families. The only people I had found from my past were Erica and Julie. They helped and we ended up finding Jon. It was his birthday in my dream. I don't think he even recognized me when we went to meet him. We didn't stay long and before we got back home I woke up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to think about that dream. I'm just going to say WHATEVER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to go wash a dirty dirty car!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6356396984514448212?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6356396984514448212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6356396984514448212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6356396984514448212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6356396984514448212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/06/four-you-i-would-travel-world.html' title='Four you I would travel the world'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6052469058826481487</id><published>2010-06-02T14:57:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T15:10:51.546-04:00</updated><title type='text'>today is #9</title><content type='html'>9. &lt;a href="http://lab.andre-michelle.com/tonematrix"&gt;My New Love &lt;/a&gt;(just play with it!)&lt;br /&gt;8. I could be a disco queen. I would love to be a stella.&lt;br /&gt;7. My mind has gone back to it wonderings... I'm sooooo happy to be back.&lt;br /&gt;6. Still two weeks until reall life hits again.&lt;br /&gt;5. I love swimming. Any water any where.&lt;br /&gt;4. BUENOS AIRES! is still on my mind... it's following me. :)&lt;br /&gt;3. I am in LOVE! with &lt;a href="http://www.goodreads.com"&gt;Good Reads&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I miss Haru. Stupid having a real job.&lt;br /&gt;1. Pandora is making my life easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It backwards day. Well at least in the countdown form. The Rangers play tonight. I want to go to one more game before I leave. I have to, I mean HAVE TO, go to the games they play against the Orioles in August (in Baltimore). I HAVE TO! So if you wanna go, just let me know. I bet Brit will Baseball, Boys and Beer. The best 3 out of the 4 best B's in the whole world. *(the other being... Buenos Aires)* If I could only get all four of those things to happen at the same time life would be heaven on Earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep having some weird dreams. They are so realistic. Nothing scary or crazy just almost like a look in the future, at least what I hope is the future. They are very happy dreams. I like having them. Its just so strange that the things I dream about are somethings I used to just push away. Things I thought I could never be happy with but now I see my mistakes. Well, all we have is time, so let's just wait and see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6052469058826481487?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6052469058826481487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6052469058826481487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6052469058826481487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6052469058826481487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/06/today-is-9.html' title='today is #9'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-3618291592474560063</id><published>2010-06-01T17:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T17:48:57.023-04:00</updated><title type='text'>bored-um...</title><content type='html'>So I'm just sitting here at home wondering, what is really going to become of me. I have this huge life plan and I'm pretty much afraid that nothing is going to come of it. I just have yet to get back on the right track. right? I know I can do it. That is the only way I'm going to be able to do it. To think is to do. If I can think it, I can do it, right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the goals: (they say it's good to write them down)&lt;br /&gt;1. Pay off money to GMU.&lt;br /&gt;2. Go back to school in the Fall. &lt;br /&gt;3. Make good grades to bring up my GPA. &lt;br /&gt;4. Take as many class as it takes to make me graduate in the Spring.&lt;br /&gt;5. Work the whole time. &lt;br /&gt;6. Graduation present: Buenos Aires&lt;br /&gt;7. Teaching aboard for a year?... something to just get me out of this place.&lt;br /&gt;8. Masters.&lt;br /&gt;9. FIELD WORK!!!!&lt;br /&gt;10. Doctorate!&lt;br /&gt;11. BECOME RICH AND FAMOUS... just kidding... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's time to just do it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-3618291592474560063?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/3618291592474560063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=3618291592474560063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3618291592474560063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3618291592474560063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/06/bored-um.html' title='bored-um...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-2447786214408659366</id><published>2010-06-01T14:14:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T17:49:19.550-04:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Things (cause ten is a BIG number)</title><content type='html'>1. I'm brown... yes as in tan (tan lines are visible!)&lt;br /&gt;2. I want to be a gypsy but alas I shall never actually be a Roma&lt;br /&gt;3. Little Joy is my new little joy. :)&lt;br /&gt;4. I'm proud of what I did last night. I would never have expected it to go so well.&lt;br /&gt;5. I have two weeks before real life hits again.&lt;br /&gt;6. I made a new life plan, mostly involving me going to Buenos Aires ASAP!&lt;br /&gt;7. My mom and me are totally okay with each other as of the moment. I'm very happy with this. &lt;br /&gt;8. I've decided I need to get Rosetta Stone. I don't even care what language I just want to learn a new one. &lt;br /&gt;9. I really need to see my Haru. She has been alluding me. Hopefully soon!&lt;br /&gt;10. I miss what we had. I'm sure there is more to come. I'm not sure what but hopefully it will be good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-2447786214408659366?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/2447786214408659366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=2447786214408659366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2447786214408659366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2447786214408659366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/06/10-things-cause-ten-is-big-number.html' title='10 Things (cause ten is a BIG number)'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-2352016754464454244</id><published>2010-05-25T11:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T11:52:36.983-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a law only for my kind, I am no law for all.</title><content type='html'>It is an impossibility to have justice and equality. In the punishments justice requires, equality will be lost. Every man will receive what they deserve for the actions they take? No. We promote the idea of "liberty and justice for all" but does every man have equal justice. The notion of equality among men is something that goes back until the creation of the United States but has it stood true the whole 234 years it has been a separate, unique identity from Great Britain? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each individual is different. I understand the equality is a good idea on paper but never has it actually happened. Is it humanly possible to treat each person with the same amount of kindness or hate? If you look at the ideas this country was founded on are one of them actually attainable? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- My ideas aren't finished... but i just had to write something that made me think... i'm tired of being lazy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-2352016754464454244?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/2352016754464454244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=2352016754464454244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2352016754464454244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2352016754464454244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-am-law-only-for-my-kind-i-am-no-law.html' title='I am a law only for my kind, I am no law for all.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-8544240724655853006</id><published>2010-03-24T23:46:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T23:53:45.974-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I sleep... Sometimes I dream... Most of the time I just pass out</title><content type='html'>Life is crazy right now. I'm not exactly sure why but I'm sure it's all for good reason. Actually life is good right now. I am really happy with most everything. My could be making more money at my job but I love the people I work with for the most part. I wish I had a boy to spend my time with but I'm sure that will happen soon enough. My car could be running better... well I'm not sure I can be happy about that. I do love my little fuck-us... but I'm pretty sure she's about to die on me (cross my fingers that it doesn't). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the first time in my life I'm an AUNT! Yes me! I know right BABIES!!!!!! Got to love them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/S6rd4nblIwI/AAAAAAAAAJA/QJVlBSbTvaE/s1600/SNC00235.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/S6rd4nblIwI/AAAAAAAAAJA/QJVlBSbTvaE/s320/SNC00235.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452414263612482306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't he adoreable?!?! I know right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I haven't much else to say...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-8544240724655853006?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/8544240724655853006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=8544240724655853006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8544240724655853006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8544240724655853006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2010/03/sometimes-i-sleep-sometimes-i-dream.html' title='Sometimes I sleep... Sometimes I dream... Most of the time I just pass out'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/S6rd4nblIwI/AAAAAAAAAJA/QJVlBSbTvaE/s72-c/SNC00235.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5665178234206214802</id><published>2009-09-28T23:40:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T23:55:03.748-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I Can't Sleep And I'm Not Sure Why. Maybe...</title><content type='html'>The insomnia that I have been having recently is probably due to like three things. Money, a Job, and no friends. I have no money and it scared me that soon I'm going to have to be paying everything for college back. I mean I still have like two more semesters to do but that is but a mere minute away in truth. Plus I don't have a job right now. I've moved back to Texas for many reasons... but I have been looking for a job for the past like four weeks and still nothing. I don't know what to do. I mean my only other choice is Wal-mart and I really do hope I don't have to resort to working there. I have to ask my mother for gas money so I can go to school. I miss being independent. I miss having some say in my life. Last but not least I come to my no friends problem. I mean I'm not saying I don't have people to talk to but I don't have people to hang out with. I have no social interactions on a daily basis. I wake up, shower, look for a job and/or go to school and then return home. On the weekends (two weekends so far) I have had friends come to visit but it isn't the same. I see them for a mere day or two and then nothing they return again, some three weeks later. You guys want me to stay here, but I feel like I'm depriving myself of everything. School has provided me with the most entertaining part of my life. Friday nights I stay home and do math homework. It hurts. I'm so used to being around people. Now instead of hanging out with people, I hang out with my books. I don't miss the old me, the me who preferred to stay in, to do nothing. I don't want to become that person again. I'm trying hard to fight it but I'm scared. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note, I've been talking to Jon a lot lately. He is nice to talk to. I miss him, in more than one way. Have you ever just throw something good away just because you wanted to see how it felt? I feel almost as if that is what I did. I can't remember the bad. I mean someone remind me... what was it? What did he do? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to be writing a paper/not so much paper as writing about a list of people/psycologist. I don't want to do it. I'm just going to forget about it. I'll live right...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5665178234206214802?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5665178234206214802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5665178234206214802' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5665178234206214802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5665178234206214802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2009/09/sometimes-i-cant-sleep-and-im-not-sure.html' title='Sometimes I Can&apos;t Sleep And I&apos;m Not Sure Why. Maybe...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5788356340679897716</id><published>2009-08-06T00:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T00:23:11.260-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Well... I guess I'll join in on the fun...</title><content type='html'>So since everyone is writing... I guess i'm going to write a little too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is completely gone... there is no word for how messed up I've gotten to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm with a boy who makes me completely unhappy and i have no clue how to get out of this relationship. I wish it was really easy... but but for some fucked up reason I love him and it hurts to see him go... I'm really about done with this bullshit though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work all the time... school and me have stopped being friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to run away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to sell all my belongings and run away to the carribbean an be a tutor to all the rich white kids so they can get in to college in the states. I could do it. I just don't know how yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to quit life right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone is moving on with their lives. I have nothing to show for anything. I wanted so much more than this but I have nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started this blog so i could help myself get over a stupid boy and now i'm stuck with another stupid boy... I don't know how i do this to myself. I want to just be okay with myself without a stupid boy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is all just blah... i feel better though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5788356340679897716?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5788356340679897716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5788356340679897716' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5788356340679897716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5788356340679897716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2009/08/well-i-guess-ill-join-in-on-fun.html' title='Well... I guess I&apos;ll join in on the fun...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-8394991057422620214</id><published>2008-12-03T13:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T13:19:57.551-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Honez...it's like being a Mexican ho. (but i'm not a ho, just my mexican last name is)</title><content type='html'>So School is basically my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm done with dish boy... loooooooonnng story... don't worry about it. I'll tell you in person later in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i did meet the red power ranger and am in love with him... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll have to explain about that later too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but there also this other boy who really really really likes me and we're talking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;more later i have to get to class!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-8394991057422620214?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/8394991057422620214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=8394991057422620214' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8394991057422620214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8394991057422620214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/12/honezits-like-being-mexican-ho-but-im.html' title='Honez...it&apos;s like being a Mexican ho. (but i&apos;m not a ho, just my mexican last name is)'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-1095189798247043291</id><published>2008-11-03T12:44:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T11:06:39.569-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Because I'm bored at school...</title><content type='html'>okay so there is really nothing new to say. i've been doing nothing fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i go to school...&lt;br /&gt;i go to work...&lt;br /&gt;i go home...&lt;br /&gt;i go to sleep...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;rinse and repeat...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there is a semi new boy... you guys sort of know about him. luis... dish boy from work... i don't know how i really feel about him. i don't know if i can really trust him or if he is just fucking with my emotions...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but for real school is almost done with for this semester... like this month and that is it... that is so craaazzzy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jon and I talked the other day... i think we are going to hang out soon. I'm thinking about driving down there Thursday to hang out with him... maybe see a movie... get something to eat... just chill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MY CAR iS FIXED!!!!&lt;br /&gt;oh my gosh how could i forget about this. I mean !YAY!YAY!YAY! Okay deep breath Nicole. but i have it back... it is working... i just owe my mom some money for it... like 140 or something... nothing too bad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My computer is still dead though. it is sad... that is my next big thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay i was trying to get a picture of luis to go on here... but i'm at school... so it is not working. okay well i'll do that later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SRHEe9Ork6I/AAAAAAAAAG4/37y1uBiOeKk/s1600-h/luis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SRHEe9Ork6I/AAAAAAAAAG4/37y1uBiOeKk/s200/luis.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265205475484079010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Knee-cole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-1095189798247043291?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/1095189798247043291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=1095189798247043291' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1095189798247043291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1095189798247043291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/11/because-im-bored-at-school.html' title='Because I&apos;m bored at school...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SRHEe9Ork6I/AAAAAAAAAG4/37y1uBiOeKk/s72-c/luis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6931141791911971371</id><published>2008-10-18T00:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T00:42:00.352-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fish + Boy = Stupidity</title><content type='html'>So Mr. Bubbles has left this world. I was a little sad. I think I'll be okay. THat is only because the person whom Mr. Bubbles was named after has passed out of my life also. I wish Muffin would die too... then I would really be rid of them all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry that is a little mean. It's too complicated to explain right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To update everyone. Erica sent me like a 1000 questions to be answered... here they are...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How are your classes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My classes are gay. I like them and all but i'm just tried of them. I wish school just wasn't like this. My archaeology classes put me to sleep. I'm afraid that is not what I want to do anymore. I just think what am I going to do later if I fall asleep now. I wish I could just become a baker but i don't think that is going to happen. I want to be a teacher I think. I wanna teach little kids. I'm going to get my masters after college in international teaching. I'm kind of excited about it. Next semester I'm thinking about doing something crazy. I don't know why I want to but... I'll tell you in a later question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you still working at Longhorn?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid so. I really don't like it at all. I wish there was something else for me to do. I wish I could just have a job that didn't involve drama. My "friends" from work all turn out to be retards except Rodrigo, whom I think I'll be friends with for ever. He really is a good friend to me. I like that. The rest of them are fake and retarded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Did you get your car fixed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My car has not be fixed. I wish I wasn't so stupid and what not... I'd actually go get it fixed. Right now it just sits in the garage and wastes away. I just don't have the money to fix it right now... I don't know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How are your fish, I'm worried about them still?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fish are great. Although this morning I could have sworn Mr. Bubbles died. I think I'm going to change their names too. I do't really like them anymore. I don't know to yet. Maybe something like Crazy Boy and Crazy Girl... haha just joking... I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Edit: Mr. Bubbles has passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you hanging out with the kids from work still?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid so. I wish I didn't. They are stupid and what not. Although Rodrigo is still chill as shit. I like him a lot. I mean like as a friend. He is really good to me like that. I love his mom too. She is great. We drank wine with her the other night. She got a little tipsy... hehe. I wish Nicole and Rodrigo could just kill everyone of the other retards and find new friends. I think I'm going to hang out with just him soon again. It more fun that way... we just smoked a lot. I don't know. I really do miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How's Roger? Are you married yet? When are you going back?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roger is good. They just had a big storm go through down there. It scared me. I was like if you get hurt... I'm coming down there and hurting you worse. He just laughed at that. I wish he would ask me to marry him. I really do love him. I feel like I'm being played sometimes though. Like he thinks he is smarter than me and can get away with stuff... but i know about it... like not exactly... but i have that feeling. I don't know. I really do love him though. I'm thinking about doing something next semester... that might piss off my mom... but she has no choice but to except what I'm going to do. I'll tell you about it in the study abroad question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you coming to Texas for Christmas or on Christmas Break?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HELLO!!!! of course. I miss you guys too much not to come and see you! I wish I could go right now and see you. I love you guys too much. I can't wait either. I wish it was Christmas right now... I would be done with school and work! I can't wait to tell you my plan about school for next semester. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to come back to Texas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you studying abroad next semester?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay this one is going to take a bit to explain. I'll just start off with i'm not really going to be studying... i'm just going abroad. I'm taking a semester off to just get things straight. I think I really need to. I think for awhile I might go live with Roger just to see if that is what I really want. I have a "free" semester from school if I want it. I think I do't need to waste money on it. I think I should go live with him for a bit. I don't know. I might just stay out of school and get a day job for the semester. I don't know. I know I want to finish school but school has taken so much from me I need to get those straight before I continue on with it.  I'll send you another email about this tonight ... after work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What are you confused about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life. See last question. Roger. What I'm going to do. Basically everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Why haven't you emailed me back yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been busy... Like and i forgot about the "long" email that I was supposed to be writing you. I've been working almost every night plus school and what not. It really sucks. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How's your computer? Is it still exploded?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep. My car and computer are the next things to get fixed.... I'm thinking next week. I miss them both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thats my life right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I miss you guys, more than ever.&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/8353612510677892358-6931141791911971371?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6931141791911971371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6931141791911971371' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6931141791911971371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6931141791911971371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/10/fish-boy-stupidity.html' title='Fish + Boy = Stupidity'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5057748469872956564</id><published>2008-10-08T13:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T13:25:49.502-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How do I get over this.</title><content type='html'>So I'm really really bored. I've been making up little stories and writing them down... I feel like I should put them up on my "hidden" blog. I'm going to, its decided. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay that was just to let you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay... have fun... pictures of my fish later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5057748469872956564?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5057748469872956564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5057748469872956564' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5057748469872956564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5057748469872956564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/10/how-do-i-get-over-this.html' title='How do I get over this.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5347831837379279972</id><published>2008-10-07T23:18:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T23:28:14.357-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fishing for Love</title><content type='html'>So today I went out and bought a fish tank... yes. I'm getting two fishes!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are called Molly Fish. I'm getting a black one and a silver one. I have names for them already too. The black one is Mr. Bubbles and the silver one well its either Rapunzel (or how ever you spell it) or Brittany just cause Brit was like you should get the silver one too... so i was like okay and i'll name it after you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really excited. I'm going to be responsible for two fishes!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy boy has fishes too... but mine are sooooo much better. I need to call him. I will later...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So life is getting a little better. I'm okay with things. It just the money thing that is still bad. I'm working like everyday but I still don't make money. I know... I shouldn't have gone out and bought fish... but I babysat today and that was the money I used to buy my fish... I felt like I need something to make me a little happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just okay right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss everybody. I wish I could see you guys right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post pictures tomorrow!!! I can't wait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5347831837379279972?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5347831837379279972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5347831837379279972' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5347831837379279972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5347831837379279972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/10/fishing-for-love.html' title='Fishing for Love'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5716606338105137864</id><published>2008-10-03T10:58:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T11:07:51.295-04:00</updated><title type='text'>School isn't out for Summer... ever!</title><content type='html'>So I'm at school and bored out of my mind. I have like 30 minutes before my class starts and I probably should be doing something productive but I'm not. I'm having a really hard time with a lot of things lately. First money... Second boys... Third money... Fourth my aunt... Fifth money... Sixth school... and so on and so on... I just think when is it going to be over... and then I realize never. Its this constant circle of evilness... and it is really hard to just be happy with everything. I mean I'm happy about a lot of stuff but everything... not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss Erica. I don't know what to do. I called my mom the other day and talked to her for like an hour and it wasn't nearly as good as talking to Haru. I can't deal with somethings right now... but I'm having to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roger and Nicole are okay... but it is just so freaking hard being away from him like this. I don't know what to do... it sucks. BLAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah... my car is decided to be a piece of crap... my computer screen killed itself... so all i can see of the screen is the top left hand corner. I have no money to fix any of it... and plus I still have to pay my car payment!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm okay with it all though. I don't know how but I know I'm going to get through it. I've just got to work a little more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sleepy and wish school was extinct on Fridays. It would be for the greater good of all people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since class starts soon I'm going to go... I'll likely read a book and wait for the other class to vacate the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LATER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;n3&gt;n + r = &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5716606338105137864?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5716606338105137864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5716606338105137864' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5716606338105137864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5716606338105137864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/10/school-isnt-out-for-summer-ever.html' title='School isn&apos;t out for Summer... ever!'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-2494869871397577092</id><published>2008-09-30T11:32:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T20:12:20.109-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So I promised</title><content type='html'>I promised a story about Jamaica. I shouldn't have waited to s long but i'm sorry. I have pictures now though. So they will come in to the whole story. Okay so apparently the pictures aren't going to be on here until tonight... my aunt still has the camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday. After  getting there we took the 2 hours or so ride to the "country." It is so beautiful. Pictures are the only way to explain it. That night we didn't do anything. I met his "mommy" or grandmother, whom I LOVE! She is like the most inspirational woman ever. I met his younger brother, Jerome, whom I'm sure only added to my frustration with Roger... about the stupid girl (you'll find out about her in a minute). That night i sleep next to crazy boy and for the first time in the cold. I had to use him to keep warm and I wasn't hot and pushing him away. It was exciting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8YmUKASI/AAAAAAAAAFY/h08xieIS4pk/s1600-h/P1000560.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8YmUKASI/AAAAAAAAAFY/h08xieIS4pk/s320/P1000560.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251967246255391010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole and Elaine at the Airport&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8Y-7rD3I/AAAAAAAAAFg/D3GXO70h1kw/s1600-h/P1000581.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8Y-7rD3I/AAAAAAAAAFg/D3GXO70h1kw/s320/P1000581.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251967252863586162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK_OHnvUmI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/PPPBj0VoCg4/s1600-h/P1000680.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK_OHnvUmI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/PPPBj0VoCg4/s320/P1000680.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251970364752220770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elaine and Jerome&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday. In the morning his great aunt Alma came over with breakfast and brought her grandson, Zaviar... or zavi. I want a baby... right now.. please. I played with the little boy all morning. Then we went back to his grandmothers house and we stayed there until that night. There was a huge party. Crazy boy was an idiot... he must have had some other girl there... but not really cause it was his brother's girlfriends sister that didn't want to be "lonely"... what ever... I was introduced to her and Roger's girlfriend... so she knew... but what stops people.. not that. I don't care. I had fun. I danced with his cousin... whom told me to leave Roger and marry him. I told him he was too old for me... but he was really only 28 years old. I'm not saying he wasn't to old for me to date just he wasn't really that old. I don't know... I think at some point Roger got a little jealous. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8Y6rZoKI/AAAAAAAAAFo/-HHwLO3SIm8/s1600-h/P1000583.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8Y6rZoKI/AAAAAAAAAFo/-HHwLO3SIm8/s320/P1000583.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251967251721592994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ms. Alma&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK_OpNr-fI/AAAAAAAAAGg/jx4d4VOpDcc/s1600-h/P1000713.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK_OpNr-fI/AAAAAAAAAGg/jx4d4VOpDcc/s320/P1000713.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251970373769755122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Zavi and Uncle Daniel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8ZthsR0I/AAAAAAAAAF4/kYxnVYgbWmE/s1600-h/P1000602.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8ZthsR0I/AAAAAAAAAF4/kYxnVYgbWmE/s320/P1000602.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251967265371080514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Roger, Nicole and Zavi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK_OiMK08I/AAAAAAAAAGY/8CAXwo-4WGc/s1600-h/P1000688.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK_OiMK08I/AAAAAAAAAGY/8CAXwo-4WGc/s320/P1000688.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251970371884340162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ricardo (Roger's Cousin)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday. I yelled at him about the girl. We talked about it. I'm "okay" with it. We went to town to by groceries that morning with his grandmother... and by we i meant me my aunt and his mom. I was mad at him and wanted to get away from him. but guess what... he some how found us in town. Anyways that night his cousin, the one I danced with the night before... Roger however didn't leave my side that night. I don't know why but i think i scared him into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday. We went to church. That night we really didn't do anything. I flirted with a boy. He was cute and I gave him my phone number... but this was because I was mad at Roger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8ZOTMCkI/AAAAAAAAAFw/NHhGrw9n-Gw/s1600-h/P1000600.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8ZOTMCkI/AAAAAAAAAFw/NHhGrw9n-Gw/s320/P1000600.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251967256988748354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everybody at Church (Uncle Daniel, Patan, Papa (Mommy's Dad), Elaine and Tan)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday. We went to Dunn River Falls... which is like a big thing. We climbed the falls ... Roger pissed me off. We almost broke up. We didn't talk the whole way back home. Although it was really funny when this guy came up to me and was talk to me when we stopped to get something to eat... and Roger was like watching me and stuff. It was funny. Anyways after he was like talking to me and getting real close to me. I was like nope... your the one whose mad at me... get away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK_NXrE53I/AAAAAAAAAGA/pjFn8AjSnE4/s1600-h/P1000616.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK_NXrE53I/AAAAAAAAAGA/pjFn8AjSnE4/s320/P1000616.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251970351881316210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nicole and Roger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK_Nt8SPrI/AAAAAAAAAGI/1Al6fblw5TE/s1600-h/P1000621.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK_Nt8SPrI/AAAAAAAAAGI/1Al6fblw5TE/s320/P1000621.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251970357859073714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Climbing the Falls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday. I was leaving. I did leave. We were late to the airport... well sort of. if any normal person would have been driving I would have been late. We got stopped by the cops. they took a bribe. That's Jamaica for you. Yep 5000 Jamaican dollars to let us get away with nothing. (he didn't have his license and overtook someone with the solid white line).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is it. Crazy boy wouldn't get in my suitcase. I tried to get him to. Oh well. I miss him. Anyways thats my life...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-2494869871397577092?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/2494869871397577092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=2494869871397577092' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2494869871397577092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2494869871397577092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/09/so-i-promised.html' title='So I promised'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SOK8YmUKASI/AAAAAAAAAFY/h08xieIS4pk/s72-c/P1000560.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-8501018636129011800</id><published>2008-09-25T11:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T11:14:35.727-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Presidents sometimes aren't so presidential.</title><content type='html'>So I've been back from Jamaica for what about 2 days now. I have lots to say on it. I just have things I need to get done... I know i'll do it sometimes today: 1. because I have a test I'm studying for and 2. I really want to tell everybody. So today expect something awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go to Jamaica in January. I think that is where I want to go for my study abroad. I thought I loved France. I love Jamaica 7x over that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. I'm waiting for Erica to get on skype. Then I'm going to go up to work. Okay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BYE for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-8501018636129011800?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/8501018636129011800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=8501018636129011800' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8501018636129011800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8501018636129011800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/09/presidents-sometimes-arent-so.html' title='Presidents sometimes aren&apos;t so presidential.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-3230538412611591189</id><published>2008-09-17T12:26:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T13:19:17.988-04:00</updated><title type='text'>getting tired is easier than trying</title><content type='html'>So I guess that last post was a little weird. I just felt like i've been doing some stupid stuff. I feel like I need to take responsibly for something that I have just been to lax with. I need to grow up. I mean to extent. I need to have fun but in moderation and to the extent I can control. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haru. I love when you call me. I love when anybody calls me. You guys are still my bestest of best friends in the whole world. I makes me sad when we don't talk. We really don't talk anymore... I don't like it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just bought a twix bar... and well I wish you guys could see it. It definitely is missing all the carmel when I took out the first bar... but then i found it in the bottom of the wrapper. It kind of made me sad and happy at the same time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided I like to update this with my mundane-ness. I can't wait to travel abroad and over load you guys with crazy-ness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now that is it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 N&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-3230538412611591189?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/3230538412611591189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=3230538412611591189' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3230538412611591189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3230538412611591189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/09/getting-tired-is-easier-than-trying.html' title='getting tired is easier than trying'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-225431667260745340</id><published>2008-09-16T19:54:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T19:59:47.639-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gonna find another place, maybe one I can stand.</title><content type='html'>So i'm going to Jamaica on Thursday. I kind of wish I was moving away. I wrote this whole long thing out on paper... with a pencil. it was old school. i was going to put it on here... but 1. its to long and 2. i'm not sure how i feel about it being out there on the internet. I was i could start over... i mean at least to an extent. I wish I had gone to France with Erica this semester. I don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just wishing I had screwed up so much. I wish I didn't hurt some people like i did. I don't know... just forget it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 n&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-225431667260745340?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/225431667260745340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=225431667260745340' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/225431667260745340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/225431667260745340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/09/gonna-find-another-place-maybe-one-i.html' title='Gonna find another place, maybe one I can stand.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-8370333268956122027</id><published>2008-09-16T16:36:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T16:36:30.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I need to grow up.</title><content type='html'>that is really just it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-8370333268956122027?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/8370333268956122027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=8370333268956122027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8370333268956122027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8370333268956122027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-need-to-grow-up.html' title='I need to grow up.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-2433135071200555085</id><published>2008-09-15T14:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T15:06:34.951-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Its Be a Long Time, I shouldn't have Left You, Without a Strong Rhyme to Step too</title><content type='html'>So I haven't talked to you guys in a looooong time. I'm okay with it a little bit. I'm so tired. This weekend has been a blur. Basically i have like a billion bruises... i went to the river... i cuddled with britney because it was cold as hell... i might have made a peruvian boy fall in love with me... i might be in love with a boy who is guatemala but was born in new orleans... i'm not really sure... but that was just the beginning of it. I need to starting taking my camera on my adventures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On thursday i'm leaving to go to Jamaica. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I mean i really want to go but everything is just going a little crazy right now. My mom is being weird about it. I don't think she likes the idea of Nicole and Roger. I think she think i'm trying to keep it a secret but i'm not. she just doesn't ask me about it and I've never really shared that stuff with her... i don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cowboys are playing tonight... i hope they win... but jessica "stupid" simpson might have cursed them... &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3Jn2JJJ1DM"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3Jn2JJJ1DM&lt;/a&gt; hopefully it doesn't actually do anything to bad to us... she is really stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways. i'm in class... maybe more later tonight... if i don't do anything stupid...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 n+r&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-2433135071200555085?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/2433135071200555085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=2433135071200555085' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2433135071200555085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2433135071200555085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-be-long-time-i-shouldnt-have-left.html' title='Its Be a Long Time, I shouldn&apos;t have Left You, Without a Strong Rhyme to Step too'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-1946994852488539462</id><published>2008-08-24T23:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T23:24:12.146-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Poor Old Michael Finnegan Began Again</title><content type='html'>Blah. School starts tomorrow. I'm sleepy... I've been being a WILD girl for the past two night... hehe. Anyways. I can't wait for the rest of the week to past...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;monday - i have school and work - JESSICA's birthday (party...)&lt;br /&gt;tuesday - No school... sleep and nothingness&lt;br /&gt;wednesday - school then work... Rodrigo's birthday (party!!!)&lt;br /&gt;thursday -  myself and some friends are going to spend all day on the river... YAY!!! &lt;br /&gt;Friday - school -   i'm going to Texas for the weekend!!! &lt;br /&gt;saturday - michael's wedding&lt;br /&gt;sunday - who knows&lt;br /&gt;monday - back to DC&lt;br /&gt;tuesday - school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have a boring life... haha i'm just kidding...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roger and Nicole are happy!!! which is exciting. blah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm sleepy... and i have class in the morning so... bed... more about stuff later!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-1946994852488539462?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/1946994852488539462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=1946994852488539462' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1946994852488539462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1946994852488539462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/08/poor-old-michael-finnegan-began-again.html' title='Poor Old Michael Finnegan Began Again'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6214011877595428353</id><published>2008-07-25T12:51:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T12:53:26.042-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Over and Out of Bounds</title><content type='html'>My life is so confusing. I don't know what to do. I think to much. I don't think enough. I don't know. I just wish everything was simple and un-confusing. Boys are stupid. I think it's in their nature. But girls are dumb too. Just in a different way. Okay I have a billion things to do. I just need to say that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6214011877595428353?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6214011877595428353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6214011877595428353' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6214011877595428353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6214011877595428353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/07/over-and-out-of-bounds.html' title='Over and Out of Bounds'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-2993374935705573123</id><published>2008-07-16T09:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T09:31:55.829-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost and Confused in a Sea of Knowledge</title><content type='html'>Today is my first real day off in a about a week. I'm glad though. I've been going out and I believe it was the first night I slept in my bed for the past 1.5 weeks. It was good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new room is AMAZING!... In case I haven't filled everybody in I redid my room and well it is très cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole and Roger are well... I don't know how to explain it. Nicole wants her boy to pay more attention to her... especially since he isn't so near her... but he doesn't. So she told him that he need to step up or lose her. He didn't step up... I really love him. I just can't not be with him. I need he to be with me or make the effort to call me and be with me that way. I don't know!!! I wish he was just here... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New NEWS! I am in love again... but in the eye candy sense of love. The dish boy at work is this gorgeous boy from El Salvador. He also doesn't speak much english... which could be fun. But he calls me mommy and mamacita, which is cute. He also kissed me in the walk-in at work!!! (it was like right out of a movie!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to SXM in two weeks. I have an appointment to get my passport on Friday in DC. Everything else right now is just okay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-2993374935705573123?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/2993374935705573123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=2993374935705573123' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2993374935705573123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2993374935705573123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/07/lost-and-confused-in-sea-of-knowledge.html' title='Lost and Confused in a Sea of Knowledge'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7745816975900202717</id><published>2008-06-02T15:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T15:45:30.711-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm excited!</title><content type='html'>So I've so much to do this week... but not really. On Saturday night I'm going out with Rachel and some other people to a club... and on Sunday Tera and Nicole and other people are going to see Ziggy Marley and the Wailers. It should be fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SXM was amazing... other than a small bit of fighting. I miss him. I think I trust him again. I do trust him. I miss him. Blah. He needs to get his ass up here. Well first of all I think he needs to move out of his mom's house. Live by himself for maybe 6 months. Then if he can live like that just fine... then he should come live up here. Maybe like for 3 months with me and Jeri and what not. Get a job, save up some more money. Then go where ever he wants. I think he needs to think about this a little more. It is a big decision to make. He needs a plan. I'm going to talk to him about it tomorrow... we are both off from work, so we can talk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A boy at work gave me his number. He wasn't extremely cute but it was fun. There is also this new guy who keeps flirting with me... and yes I love the attention but no he really isn't that cute. Chris (from work) asked me to go to the movies with him today... that was strange... oh well. I can't wait for the weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haru, I'm going to call you tonight. I have a phone charger and I will call you later!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;n+r= &lt;(crazy)3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7745816975900202717?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7745816975900202717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7745816975900202717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7745816975900202717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7745816975900202717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/06/im-excited.html' title='I&apos;m excited!'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6682637890302159576</id><published>2008-05-10T23:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T23:41:56.964-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Coked Up on Packing</title><content type='html'>I get this strange high from packing to go places. I like it. It's better than just regular excited-ness. It is like I'm really going to be able to just get out of here for a while. I like traveling. I really do love it. I love the feeling of going through an airport. I like waiting for the plane to board. I love watching people wait. Most of all i love people who are completely clueless at airports. They  make me smile. I really love airplanes too. Airplanes make life awesome. But my most favorite part about traveling is when you arrive at you destination and the person you've gone to see sees you when you walk out of the doors that separate the secure part from the rest of the airport. Their face is always excited. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to visit Roger. I think in a way I love him unconditionally. I've only felt that way about 5 people in my life. My parents, Roger, Jon and Erica. I love you guys too, but I think that Erica completely understands me and you guys might be a little in the dark sometimes. I used to feel that way about Jon. I thought I could love him forever. I think I would have until he dragged things one for like ten years when we should have ended everything. I might have been a little to blame but that's done with. I don't feel like that anymore for Jon. So right now I love 4 people unconditionally. I think even if Roger were to just leave me... no reason, I would still love him. I would be hurt but I don't think I could not love him. It might be because I've worked so hard for this relationship I feel like I have to love him like that. ... anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On something a little less serious, I have three more exams to take and work tomorrow. BLAC! I'm tired too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know when I'm coming to Texas. I'm working on that. I'm trying to find a cheap flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so summer will be good... if it every gets here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;n&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6682637890302159576?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6682637890302159576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6682637890302159576' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6682637890302159576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6682637890302159576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-coked-up-on-packing.html' title='I&apos;m Coked Up on Packing'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-1489070470083306879</id><published>2008-05-05T01:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T01:43:54.962-04:00</updated><title type='text'>because you won't talk to me...</title><content type='html'>i had to write something. i'll tell you this tomorrow but you just can't deal with it right now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so incase you didn't actually put the phone to your ear when i called you about 30 minutes ago. i was just telling "i love you" no matter what we "make each other upset" about. i love you. i do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i picked this fight with you tonight because i'm scared. i'm scared because i'm afraid of being hurt. i don't want you to hurt me. i think that when you don't do things that you don't care. i know you do but it helps for you to remind me. it makes it all better. i'm asking you to just please just understand me or try to understand me. i need you to say "yes i'm coming over... i have nobody else to see or nothing else to do" when i ask you to come over. because i get afraid. its just that i'm afraid that there could be someone else even though i know that there isn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its because we're so far away from each other. don't you ever think that i might just move on, cause i could. but i don't. i tell how much you mean to me. and you do to but i don't know sometime i think that you just don't care. maybe i need to change and just expect less of you. i found when you expect less you get hurt less often. i just thought you were different. i thought that you would make me feel special. i don't need you to tell me that i'm special because I know that i'm special but did you know you've stopped telling me i'm beautiful or how pretty my eyes are or how much you wish you could just hold me in your arms. i want that. i want to know you need me. because it helps me to know you want me as much as i want you. i want you tell me, remind me that you want me to be yours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'd do any thing for you roger. i'd travel to india or Russia if you lived there to see you. its just when you do somethings i think that you don't care what i do. that you don't see how much i do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm sorry that i have to talk about this but it hurts me so much to just keep it all in and not talk about it. i don't want to make you upset but shouldn't it upset you that i'm upset. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do you think that by not talking things through that they won't end badly? because it is just the opposite for me. i see it as... if we both don't figure out where we stand then it is just headed for disaster. i don't want to lose you. i love you. i love you more than i could have ever thought i would. i just want to be able to fight with you and then figure out what to do about it... and then somewhere down the line just be able to laugh about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want you to be the person i talk to when i have a problem about something between us. i don't want to have to call erica and be like listen to what is wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we come from different places. but if we are going to make this work we have to realize that those are different places. we have to respect each other for that and understand we might have to bend and change because we love each other. i'm not asking you to change who you are i'm just asking for you to think about who we are together and how it affects me when you do or don't do something. Crazy boy, i think about how all sorts of things about me affect you. I think about how what i want to do affects how we are going to be if we are together in 2 years. i think about what you want to do and how that is going to change what i want to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to live in Paris. ever since i was 7 years old and my aunt brought me back a shirt from there. but to you crazy boy... paris is just a city full of crazy french people. you wouldn't ever want to live there, or at least i think you wouldn't, and you know if i was with you i could do without paris. i could do without a lot of things. i could do with air conditioning, without hot water, without a real bed, without privacy, i could do without normal food. i do. i do it every time i see you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't want you to feel bad. i just want you to understand. that is basically all i'm asking. i'm asking you to think about me and about what i do because (and i hope i'm right about this) i matter to you, because i'm not just some girl, because i'm more than that to you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love you Roger (my crazy boy), i love you so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-1489070470083306879?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/1489070470083306879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=1489070470083306879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1489070470083306879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1489070470083306879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/05/because-you-wont-talk-to-me.html' title='because you won&apos;t talk to me...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-4694313847815541211</id><published>2008-04-06T22:54:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T23:15:22.809-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Those 4 Dreaded Words</title><content type='html'>We need to talk...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to talk to Roger. He isn't answering his phone. So it is really kind of hard to do that. I need to talk to him. It should be too bad but there is the possibility that it could not go the way I wish it to. I don't know. I need to talk to him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BLAH BLAH BLAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay on to other things. I have a paper due next Tuesday that is 10 pages long!!! I also have like a billion other things to do. Who cares. Right now I need some one to brush my hair and another person to massage my back. Today i'll just that two boys not the normal 3. Bwahahahaha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BLAH Things with Roger...&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I have worked really hard in this relationship. He just coasts along. He doesn't have to go any where. He doesn't change his schedule to see me. He works when I come and visit him. I understand that he has to a little bit. I don't know. I just feel like I've given up a lot to be with him and he is just fine with not sharing or doing or giving anything. I mean I have to deal with my mom. His mom loves me. I tell him anything he asks me... which isn't much. I tell him what I'm going to do with my life. I tell him why I do things. He knows that kind of stuff. I don't know anything about him. I mean I do but I still don't. I just blah, I need to talk to him. I should be asking him about things like this. I just feel weird about it. With Jon things were different. I guess things should be different they aren't the same guy. I just don't really know how else to go about things. I mean there was Louis... and lets not talk about that... and then there was Jon... and now Roger. They all are different and they all aren't the same guy... but sometimes things would be easier if they just would/would have spilled their guts to me.. AHHHH! Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys. they sometimes aren't worth it all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I want to just give up on things with Roger. I want to just call it quits because he is just so far away and its hard. But then I realize that he is worth it. That I need him... at least right now I do. and I try to make it work. I put up with the fact that I can't see him. I deal with the fact that he can go out and party with out me. I live with the fact that he doesn't sleep next to me every night. I'm fine with having to flight about 5 and 1/2 hours every so often to see. I'm making it work. I'm trying. I can't help but want to try. It's just sometimes it's so hard to want it this bad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to call him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-4694313847815541211?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/4694313847815541211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=4694313847815541211' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4694313847815541211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4694313847815541211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/04/those-4-dreaded-words.html' title='Those 4 Dreaded Words'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-8576329924892268413</id><published>2008-03-22T13:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T13:51:57.200-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just One Last Chance</title><content type='html'>I'm crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't ever just settle on something and stay with it. Is that a bad thing? I don't thinking that is necessarily a good thing but I'm not sure it is a bad things either. If things in life just came already done wouldn't that be interesting. Like pre-smoked cigarettes. It's like you smoked it with none of the hassle of wasting time. I am crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note. Roger and Nicole are happy and also sad. Being this far away sucks, but being able to see him makes me happy. I'm still scared about talking to my mom about him. I don't know what to tell her. I think she will just freak out and I know she will. SHe is my mom and that is what she does. Blah I have to, but maybe in person is better. I hope things will be okay. She can't talk me out of it. I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm coming home sometime soon maybe. Texas. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 kneecole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-8576329924892268413?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/8576329924892268413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=8576329924892268413' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8576329924892268413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8576329924892268413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/03/just-one-last-chance.html' title='Just One Last Chance'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-1186187185065605699</id><published>2008-02-26T17:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T17:12:23.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'>boxes and broomsticks</title><content type='html'>i made a mess in the kitcen... cheerios everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm moving upstairs today. i can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;erica is coming to visit in 10 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm going to see the boy in 13 days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is cold outside and no fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not having a baby! but i wasn't ever in the first place... it just makes me happy to say so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want 3 babies. right now. or maybe 10. bwahahaha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i like work. except when i don't. the people are entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm going to kill my little cousins. they are driving me bonkers. (hehe i used bonkers in a sentence... remember that used to be a cartoon show and he was like a police detective)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm so sleepy. i have a billion things i could be doing... but i'm updating so everybody knows how my life is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am going to go shopping tonight. i hope i find something pretty to buy. or maybe i will go tomorrow night. or just later on tonight. after i get everything moved in to my new room!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i always think about roger when i type anything because both him and devando are amazed at how fast i can type. maybe because they both kind of peck at the keys and don't use the home row and everything. i'm a dork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't wait for spring break. although i am not ready for the tests that come before and after it. i want the sandwich without the crust. sorry for the metaphor. or what every it be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay i'm gone. &lt;br /&gt;i miss you guys.&lt;br /&gt;every last stinkin one-a-ya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-1186187185065605699?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/1186187185065605699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=1186187185065605699' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1186187185065605699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1186187185065605699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/02/boxes-and-broomsticks.html' title='boxes and broomsticks'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7761494879573823416</id><published>2008-02-18T08:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T08:39:23.434-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Short Stuff</title><content type='html'>I go to school... I work... I sleep... I do some homework... RINSE then repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do however like the work people... they are great fun. I miss sleep. School is school. Blah. This was for you Erica... maybe I'll write more sometime soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7761494879573823416?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7761494879573823416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7761494879573823416' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7761494879573823416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7761494879573823416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/02/short-stuff.html' title='Short Stuff'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5455532514573599882</id><published>2008-01-23T21:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T21:53:04.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truth</title><content type='html'>So I'm sitting upstairs with my Uncle. We're watching "The Moment of Truth" and I decided the truth is really kind of scary. If you tell the truth it can cause trouble but not telling the truth scary all the same. Oh dear. I don't know where that was going any more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my car hated me. It didn't want me to go to class. So I didn't. My battery got replaced and all sorts of other things. We're up and running now. I've got class at 9:00 in the morning. Blah. I'm only there until noon though so that is good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting a new room. Well not a "new" room. I'm moving up stairs. Soon. I'm not sure when though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sleepy. So Bedtime!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5455532514573599882?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5455532514573599882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5455532514573599882' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5455532514573599882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5455532514573599882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/01/truth.html' title='The Truth'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6479901674002872976</id><published>2008-01-21T23:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T23:25:34.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>School's Not Out For Summer Yet...</title><content type='html'>God. School starts tomorrow. I'm so sad about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also sad to even be here. I miss Roger. He means everything to me. He is amazing. Nobody has ever meant this much to me. He can put up with me. He can fight with me. I can't get mad at him. I lovw him. I can tell him anything. He is just amazing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wake up in the middle of the night and look for him in my bed. It makes me so sad that he isn't there. I miss falling asleep on his shoulder. I miss him so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: (&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6479901674002872976?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6479901674002872976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6479901674002872976' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6479901674002872976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6479901674002872976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2008/01/schools-not-out-for-summer-yet.html' title='School&apos;s Not Out For Summer Yet...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-1625217193333009808</id><published>2007-12-24T13:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T13:13:38.079-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas</title><content type='html'>this time of year make me go crazy. don't get me wrong i love my family, but it just gets really stressful trying to deal with them all. wrapping presents, making cookies, putting up with my father, not killing my sister. this is going to be interesting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate how the older you get the whole "chirstmas feeling" just slips away. i mean when i was little christmas was always a HUGE deal and everybody was involved. as my family is getting older it just seems like some time to get presents and eat good. i think it has a lot do with my me-maw. when she was around christmas was christmas, all the bells and whistles. i hate that she isn't here. i feel bad for my brother and jadan and jayde because they really did get to see what she did or could have done. she meant so much to me. it is really hard for christmas to come and pass without me thinking of her. christmas is and will always be about my me-maw. it doesn't matter where i end up or with who i end up, no other christmas tradition will ever replace the one she has bestowed in my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah i just needed to get that off my chest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-1625217193333009808?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/1625217193333009808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=1625217193333009808' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1625217193333009808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1625217193333009808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas.html' title='Christmas'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6597923125617020312</id><published>2007-12-12T15:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T15:09:41.748-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Halfway through Hell</title><content type='html'>i took my 2nd and 3rd hardest tests today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that is good... i have an easy one on Friday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hardest is on Monday!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going shopping to celebrate. I'm thinking Christmas presents for Erica and Roger. What am I getting them, one might ask? Who the hell knows?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really would like a big cup of coffee!!! gingerbread latte ::yum:: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay starbucks trip!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6597923125617020312?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6597923125617020312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6597923125617020312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6597923125617020312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6597923125617020312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/12/halfway-through-hell.html' title='Halfway through Hell'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6931040200198475056</id><published>2007-12-11T17:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T17:33:44.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Exams!</title><content type='html'>Shoot Me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6931040200198475056?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6931040200198475056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6931040200198475056' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6931040200198475056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6931040200198475056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/12/exams.html' title='Exams!'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-3292660779514850529</id><published>2007-12-05T08:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T08:34:24.905-05:00</updated><title type='text'>IT SNOWED LAST NIGHT! and is still snowing as i type.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;SNOW!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it great... I know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are all welcome to come visit me for the day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll take pictures for you... I put them up later... I still have class BLAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;g'day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-3292660779514850529?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/3292660779514850529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=3292660779514850529' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3292660779514850529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3292660779514850529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/12/it-snowed-last-night-and-is-still.html' title='IT SNOWED LAST NIGHT! and is still snowing as i type.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-8977555028208110169</id><published>2007-12-02T15:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T16:09:05.412-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Because I have to write an essay...</title><content type='html'>I'm going to give a good and long update now. haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm listening to Christmas music and it makes me happy. I can't wait till it snows! I can't wait for Christmas either. I can't wait to see everyone again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT, basically my time in Texas has been shortened. I was planning on staying the 18th of december through the 30th of december but... well I went to do something about my flights and I had to change the return date. I will now be in Texas from the 18th of December to the 28th of December. I go to St. Martin from the 31st of December to the 18th of January. That is a long time. My uncle is also going to be performing two days before I get there. I won't get to see him. Roger is going to busy working on the 31st, new years eve. I won't get see him till later. BLAH! I will get to see everybody else for my lovely Texas stay though!!! So I am happy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think it would be mean if I told Roger I wasn't coming until the 3rd and then surprised him by coming on the 31st. My aunt is going to be there so it will be okay with everything else. I think it would be fun but maybe I'm just being mean? is that the right word? I don't know. WWJD? (what would j-you do?) bahahahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is getting to be not as long as I hoped it to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a new love for chipolte tacos! yum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should start on my essays.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-8977555028208110169?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/8977555028208110169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=8977555028208110169' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8977555028208110169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8977555028208110169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/12/because-i-have-to-write-essay.html' title='Because I have to write an essay...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-1579649385486319492</id><published>2007-11-27T22:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T22:32:57.685-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Do You Know the Muffin Mood?</title><content type='html'>Bahahahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it up! It makes me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here to Update Everyone on More Recent Happenings:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Jon wants to be friends. What do you say to that? The boy who avoids you. The boy who you broke up and still wanted to be friends with, but no! he had to want more. I don't know what to do. I don't want to start anything. I do miss his conversations. They were entertaining. He was entertaining. Blah. I don't know. Things are way to messed up to even begin to really talk to him now. He should know that. He did it. He was the one who made everything much worse/harder than it needed to be. Maybe I'm just to loveable? haha! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Erica's mix of awesomeness is my new favorite cd. I wish she would have given a track list. I have been getting back in to my normal music. No more of the random nonsense I've been listening to. Erica what is number 18? It is nice. I think I've heard it before but I can't decide. The Shins? I don't know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss Roger. Is it sad that my aunt can tell when he calls me? I just get in a better mood. I was dancing in the kitchen this afternoon. She was like Roger called didn't he. I was like yeah. Then they proceeded to make fun of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a billion things to do before next week. I have 3 papers due and a comm presentation all next week. Oh and I have to do this stupid research thing tomorrow and i have to meet with my group of the presentation on Friday. This is gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sleepy and missing lots of people. My toes are cold. The weather is sad but I'm happy about the sad weather. It is my favorite type.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-1579649385486319492?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/1579649385486319492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=1579649385486319492' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1579649385486319492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1579649385486319492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/11/do-you-know-muffin-mood.html' title='Do You Know the Muffin Mood?'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-8623135669371441302</id><published>2007-11-25T11:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T12:14:43.611-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a Long Time Till Next Year.</title><content type='html'>So I'm home from the Texas. I  miss everyone I got to see very much. I miss everyone who didn't come out of the wood working to see me a little less but I still love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Texas was an eventful trip. On Monday night I hung out with Julie, Erica, David and Will. I was grand fun. On Tuesday, Gee, Erica and I went to Firewheel. We had Chick-fil-a breakfast and then went to the mall. WE had Panda Express for lunch and Julie met up with us. We had fun there making load obscene remarks. On Wednesday, I help my mommy move into her new house. She signed the papers and what not and then there was lots of moving to be done. Wednesday night I went to my Aunt Ree's house. I went and played Guitar Hero 3 at my cousin's friends house. His dad feed us yummy enchiladas. It was grand fun. On Thanksgiving, I came back home and help my mom start to paint. We finished the living room before Turkey Time! That night I went and enjoyed Erica's company to escape from my family. We went to the park. It snowed!!! for like 5 minutes and stopped. Then we went on the hunt for sweet tea and that was amusing. After sweet tea we played spoons at Erica's house. Friday, I went early (crazy) people shopping with my mom. I got a new coat. It is prettyful. I also got a new scarf from Target. The really soft ones. It makes me happy. After shopping we went to play BINGO with my Granny. No money was won. trés sad. Then we went to Grapevine Mills and the airport. It was a very exciting trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roger hadn't called me since Sunday. I figured he was busy. It is the "busy" season for them. I called him last night cause I miss him so and it made me happy. I don't know. It's driving me crazy not to see him. I miss him, SO SO SO SO much. What is really funny is last year at this time, after having a boyfriend for the same amount of time, I was giving up on things. Especially after Thanksgiving break, I had decided to end things. This year, after Thanksgiving break, I feel the complete opposite. Like for some reason the break is the reason I want to be with him. I tested my limits, in a way, and realized that things are really good and I like them this way. You see I met this guy and well if I was single, I would have jumped him in a heart beat. For some reason, I mean I did talk to him and yeah I like him, but I'd rather be with Roger. It's crazy if you ask me. Passing up a cute boy, a new boy, for one that you already have. CRAZY! haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have many things to be doing. School Work. Shopping. Bank Visit. Loans for Next Semester. Blah. Lots of Things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-8623135669371441302?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/8623135669371441302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=8623135669371441302' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8623135669371441302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8623135669371441302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/11/its-long-time-till-next-year.html' title='It&apos;s a Long Time Till Next Year.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6750766263846469240</id><published>2007-11-19T11:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T11:18:31.138-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It has Risen from the Dead</title><content type='html'>As most of you know, my computer died about 3 months ago. It was very sad. I cried. I tired everything to get it to come back to life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything that is, except restart it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have fixed it!!! It is alive and kicking. YAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No more lame PC! Not that PC's aren't cool in their own right. You all know for goofing off MACs win over time 10,000.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean. I'm so excited to have it back. I can use everything once again!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6750766263846469240?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6750766263846469240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6750766263846469240' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6750766263846469240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6750766263846469240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/11/it-has-risen-from-dead.html' title='It has Risen from the Dead'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5962241361804330096</id><published>2007-11-05T21:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T21:02:09.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories and Favorites</title><content type='html'>FUN!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Favorite fridge magnet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_BeXYaqlI/AAAAAAAAABY/qmBPWYa7yOI/s1600-h/meme+020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129531228014946898" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_BeXYaqlI/AAAAAAAAABY/qmBPWYa7yOI/s320/meme+020.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Your toothbrush &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_BwnYaqmI/AAAAAAAAABg/lZA4hpxSGAM/s1600-h/meme+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129531541547559522" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_BwnYaqmI/AAAAAAAAABg/lZA4hpxSGAM/s320/meme+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Something you’ve received in the mail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_DV3YaqpI/AAAAAAAAAB4/jzcE4S1mofk/s1600-h/meme+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129533281009314450" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_DV3YaqpI/AAAAAAAAAB4/jzcE4S1mofk/s320/meme+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Something you’ve made &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Cp3YaqoI/AAAAAAAAABw/9kxoK2KJSgg/s1600-h/meme+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129532525095070338" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Cp3YaqoI/AAAAAAAAABw/9kxoK2KJSgg/s320/meme+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Something someone’s made for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Ix3Yaq2I/AAAAAAAAADg/ReU3m-7nbSk/s1600-h/meme+014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129539259603790690" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Ix3Yaq2I/AAAAAAAAADg/ReU3m-7nbSk/s320/meme+014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Something you’d never throw away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_IxXYaq1I/AAAAAAAAADY/pbqDufcc83M/s1600-h/meme+013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129539251013856082" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_IxXYaq1I/AAAAAAAAADY/pbqDufcc83M/s320/meme+013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Something you wish you didn’t own&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_GnHYaqzI/AAAAAAAAADI/iNiSnuQXd5A/s1600-h/meme+011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129536875896941362" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_GnHYaqzI/AAAAAAAAADI/iNiSnuQXd5A/s320/meme+011.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Something older than you are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Kg3Yaq8I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/YaeFGEZ8yhg/s1600-h/Nicole%27s+Camera+107.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129541166569270210" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Kg3Yaq8I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/YaeFGEZ8yhg/s320/Nicole%27s+Camera+107.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Favorite piece of clothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_IynYaq4I/AAAAAAAAADw/yiAVIM0E5Jo/s1600-h/meme+016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129539272488692610" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_IynYaq4I/AAAAAAAAADw/yiAVIM0E5Jo/s320/meme+016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Something that was a birthday present&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Gl3YaqwI/AAAAAAAAACw/3rdw2THmhV4/s1600-h/meme+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129536854422104834" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Gl3YaqwI/AAAAAAAAACw/3rdw2THmhV4/s320/meme+005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. Coffee mug you use the most&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_JsnYaq7I/AAAAAAAAAEI/ioLowPTED8g/s1600-h/meme+019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129540268921105330" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_JsnYaq7I/AAAAAAAAAEI/ioLowPTED8g/s320/meme+019.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. Something that doesn’t belong to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Gk3YaqvI/AAAAAAAAACo/H-LNPy_Il7k/s1600-h/meme+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129536837242235634" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Gk3YaqvI/AAAAAAAAACo/H-LNPy_Il7k/s320/meme+004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. Your crockery (dinnerware) set&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Jq3Yaq6I/AAAAAAAAAEA/LUcbB8Db0RM/s1600-h/meme+018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129540238856334242" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Jq3Yaq6I/AAAAAAAAAEA/LUcbB8Db0RM/s320/meme+018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. The last thing you bought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_IyHYaq3I/AAAAAAAAADo/YSosk0UWgpc/s1600-h/meme+015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129539263898758002" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_IyHYaq3I/AAAAAAAAADo/YSosk0UWgpc/s320/meme+015.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. What’s in your CD player&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_ETXYaqsI/AAAAAAAAACQ/C2zs8uJykaY/s1600-h/meme+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129534337571269314" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_ETXYaqsI/AAAAAAAAACQ/C2zs8uJykaY/s320/meme+006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_ET3YaqtI/AAAAAAAAACY/6LIol8XScDg/s1600-h/meme+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129534346161203922" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_ET3YaqtI/AAAAAAAAACY/6LIol8XScDg/s320/meme+007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_EUHYaquI/AAAAAAAAACg/M1Ctz2Q_UwU/s1600-h/meme+008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129534350456171234" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_EUHYaquI/AAAAAAAAACg/M1Ctz2Q_UwU/s320/meme+008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_GmHYaqxI/AAAAAAAAAC4/G2kKcTYNZ8w/s1600-h/meme+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129536858717072146" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_GmHYaqxI/AAAAAAAAAC4/G2kKcTYNZ8w/s320/meme+009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. The book you’re reading &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_GmnYaqyI/AAAAAAAAADA/ALKSrQ0F6J8/s1600-h/meme+010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129536867307006754" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_GmnYaqyI/AAAAAAAAADA/ALKSrQ0F6J8/s320/meme+010.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. Something that’s been in your pantry for over a year&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_JqXYaq5I/AAAAAAAAAD4/llEvOq9cvHU/s1600-h/meme+017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129540230266399634" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_JqXYaq5I/AAAAAAAAAD4/llEvOq9cvHU/s320/meme+017.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. Your computer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Iw3Yaq0I/AAAAAAAAADQ/8p4FFj0ae9w/s1600-h/meme+012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129539242423921474" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_Iw3Yaq0I/AAAAAAAAADQ/8p4FFj0ae9w/s320/meme+012.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5962241361804330096?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5962241361804330096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5962241361804330096' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5962241361804330096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5962241361804330096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/11/memories-and-favorites.html' title='Memories and Favorites'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/Ry_BeXYaqlI/AAAAAAAAABY/qmBPWYa7yOI/s72-c/meme+020.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-3068546133417199169</id><published>2007-10-31T21:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T21:48:14.513-04:00</updated><title type='text'>8 Things</title><content type='html'>The Rules:&lt;br /&gt;1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.&lt;br /&gt;2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.&lt;br /&gt;3. People who are tagged need to write a post on their own blog (about their eight things) and post these rules. (if you don’t have a blog, email me)&lt;br /&gt;4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.&lt;br /&gt;5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read their blog. Here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One - I hate that I'm completely dependent on things like a cell phone and a computer. &lt;br /&gt;Two - I like to skim read a book then go back and really read it. &lt;br /&gt;Three - I think I look better with long hair but I hate my long hair.&lt;br /&gt;Four - I live in an organized mess that sometimes gets clean.&lt;br /&gt;Five - I read a chick-lit book after every book I read that makes my brain burst because I like to think it makes my brain go back to normal.&lt;br /&gt;Six - My favorite number is three but I like all number with three in it not three itself&lt;br /&gt;Seven - I have a obsession with hip-hop and rap. I don't know why but I do. &lt;br /&gt;Eight - I never completely read an assigned book in high school. I only partly read it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-3068546133417199169?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/3068546133417199169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=3068546133417199169' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3068546133417199169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3068546133417199169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/10/8-things.html' title='8 Things'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-4807235409094552776</id><published>2007-10-16T18:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T18:14:30.313-04:00</updated><title type='text'>24 days of class left and only 76 days until...</title><content type='html'>Yes. I only have 24 more class days including exam days. I'm pretty excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have a plane ticket to go see my boy!!! Only 76 days. haha. I leave the 31st of December and that means I'll get my first New Years kiss!!! I come back on the 18th of January.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also coming to TEXAS!!! Yes I will be in Texas the 18th through the 30th of December. I miss you guys so much I can't wait to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to France in the spring anymore. Sad. I just couldn't get everything ready for it in time. Maybe in the fall?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick right now. I'll be okay soon hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boy is to cute. It discusts me sometimes. But I love him. That is crazy. I can't wait to see him. I'm really happy with him and I like the way he just knows things about me, not in the creepy stalker way but in the way he just understands me. I like the way we are exactly the same and completely different at the same time. It's crazy but so true. Hmmph. I'm so glad that I went to St. Martin and to think I didn't really want to go in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope everyone is doing well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;n &lt;3's r&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-4807235409094552776?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/4807235409094552776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=4807235409094552776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4807235409094552776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4807235409094552776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/10/24-days-of-class-left-and-only-76-days.html' title='24 days of class left and only 76 days until...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-9131613293570070051</id><published>2007-09-30T21:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T21:52:15.892-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Procrastination in a Story Book</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time there was this little girl named Nicole. She loved to procrastinate all the time. She actually was the best at it. Well one day Nicole had a paper due, October 1st to be exact. She had the assignment since the first day of class. She was to visit a historic site and write a 3 to 5 page paper on the accuracy of the site, how well they portrayed the time period. Nicole being the best procastinater every waited until the very last day to possibly go to the historic site, the day before it was due. She vistied the site about mid afternoon right before it closed. Then she went home and proceded not to wright her essay. At about 9:00 that night she began to get serious about it. Since she had already completely packed for her trip on the 4th of October there was nothgin else to do but to write the paper. She got all of her reference sources and sat down in front of the computer. She then proceeded to check all of her e-mail accounts: google, yahoo, aol, and george mason. Nothing. She checked her facebook and her myspace. The last place to check was everyone's blogs. Here she no sits typing out her story of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm lame I know. I'm getting really excited about my trip on Thursday though. I get to see my boy, who hasn't called me in two days, maybe I'll call him tonight. I have presents for him and Jeri and Sandra and Devando. I'm so EXCITED!!! Almost 5 days in Roger's arms/the beach. I leave Thursday morning at 7:55 from Baltimore and get to St. Martin at 1:35. That makes it 190 hours before I leave and about 195 1/2 hours before I get there. AHHH!!! That is so crazy! I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go finish/start my paper. I'll probably be back on the internet doing something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you guys! all of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N + R = &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-9131613293570070051?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/9131613293570070051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=9131613293570070051' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/9131613293570070051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/9131613293570070051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/09/procrastination-in-story-book.html' title='Procrastination in a Story Book'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7249953322376729186</id><published>2007-09-24T00:07:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T00:10:38.383-04:00</updated><title type='text'>i miss you.</title><content type='html'>I want to send him this email but I'm going to wait. I want to tell him this but I'm sort of afraid. What if I'm wrong? What if I've read to much into this? I don't know. I just need to put this out there somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figure you won't get this until you get back home but I just wanted to say it to you. I think sometimes I get really repetitive on the phone or my words get jumbled up and I sound stupid. I think, maybe, I call you too much sometimes, too. But anyways back to what I was going to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm crazy sometimes. I love you. Sometimes I don't know exactly why I love you but I do. I love you. I miss you x1000. I miss the taste of beer on your lips (or the taste of Christmas... haha). I miss you falling asleep on my lap. I miss being in your arms. I miss waiting for you to get off of work. I miss looking in your sexy eyes with you staring straight back into mine. I miss kissing your lips. I miss falling asleep beside you. I miss your fingers interlocking with mine. I miss you kissing my forehead. I miss doing absolutely nothing with you. I miss going out with you. I miss your body pressed against mine in a tight embrace. I miss you. Maybe I'm crazy but I think I'm not the only crazy one here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to see you. I can't believe I only get to see you for 4 days. It's not long enough.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only have 10 days until I see you. 10 days is too long. I hope Jamaica was/is fun. I hope you don't go find some other girl there. From what Jeri says you dressing pretty nice. She said you were looking sweet for all those Jamaican women. I hope she's just joking... haha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-n&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7249953322376729186?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7249953322376729186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7249953322376729186' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7249953322376729186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7249953322376729186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-miss-you.html' title='i miss you.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-3096633447433126244</id><published>2007-09-22T21:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T21:20:12.769-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Honeysuckle and English Tea</title><content type='html'>I'm just okay today. I'm much better than I was last night. I am having a hard time with somethings. Working and School and being a mother of 2. haha. yes I am taking care of my cousins over the week while my aunt and uncle are in Jamaica (lucky people).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss everyone so much. Danie called today. I want to go to UT. I wanna hang out with Danie. I miss her. She is one of my bestest friends ever too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh gosh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay. i miss him. but that's not new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-3096633447433126244?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/3096633447433126244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=3096633447433126244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3096633447433126244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3096633447433126244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/09/honeysuckle-and-english-tea.html' title='Honeysuckle and English Tea'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-3146054030855316048</id><published>2007-09-20T08:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T09:23:01.170-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hope You Don't Mind What I Put Down in Words</title><content type='html'>how wonderful life is now he's in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know. I'm a dork. Get over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I for some reason got really upset with the fact that Roger was out having fun and I was here. Basically he called yesterday and we talked. Then he said that he was going out that night. I was like okay. Afterward I got this feeling like what happens if he you know meets some other girl and you know. Blah. Then I realized that is wasn't that I didn't trust him and stuff, it was the fact that I wasn't there having fun with him. It more or less made me really sad. I talked to Erica about it and she was all like what are you to do?... I was like I just want him to call me and be all like I'm miserable with out you here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 12:00 last night, after I had gone to bed, I got a phone call. Yeah, you guessed it. It was Roger. He was like how are you. I was like sleepy. Then he made fun of me for sleeping and the such but I gave a good reason why I was sleeping so he understood. He was like "I wish you were here with me. I'm having fun here but I miss you so much." I don't think anything could have made me any more happy. For him to call me, on his own accord, and tell me, without any coercing from my point, that he would be having more fun if I was there just made everything I have ever doubted about the relationship disappear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still wish I was there. I'm still jealous that my aunt and uncle get to see him and I still have to wait 2 WEEKS!!! to see him. I'm jealous of Elaine, Peyton, Sean, Livingston, the rest of his family, and the rest of Jamaica. Why do they get to see him? Why can't I? I miss him so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;n+r=&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-3146054030855316048?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/3146054030855316048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=3146054030855316048' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3146054030855316048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3146054030855316048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-hope-you-dont-mind-what-i-put-down-in.html' title='I Hope You Don&apos;t Mind What I Put Down in Words'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-8278315602788017158</id><published>2007-09-09T22:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T22:17:59.749-04:00</updated><title type='text'>AHHHHHH!!!!</title><content type='html'>Yeah that is how I feel. My mom is driving me crazy. She is just protective, I think. WHY? She is so weird about things. Why can't I like a guy? Why can't I just have not told her about him? Why does it matter who he is, where he is or what he looks like? She should just be happy that I'm happy. She doesn't know him. She has no right to judge him. It disgusted me when she said that she judged people by what they look like.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyways, I sort of lied to her. I told her Roger doesn't live with Elaine anymore. I don't know why she has to be like that. If i want to do something, I'll do it. She knows that. I'm going to be defiant. I love him. That is crazy right. I do though. So when I go to St. Maarten at least she won't go crazy. I don't know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is crazy. &lt;br /&gt;I wish things were easier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-8278315602788017158?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/8278315602788017158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=8278315602788017158' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8278315602788017158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/8278315602788017158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/09/ahhhhhh.html' title='AHHHHHH!!!!'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5791083929252076089</id><published>2007-09-09T14:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T15:09:04.883-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Down-date!</title><content type='html'>He calls me just to hear my voice.Yesterday he didn't have very much credit left on his phone but he called me because he wanted to hear my voice before he went to work. I miss him so much. I have a little more than 3 weeks left!!! I'm so excited. I'm glad that he tells me things like that, that he wants to hear my voice and stuff. It makes me happy and I have less doubts in my mind about everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5791083929252076089?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5791083929252076089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5791083929252076089' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5791083929252076089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5791083929252076089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/09/down-date.html' title='Down-date!'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6653754939860738269</id><published>2007-09-02T17:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-02T17:32:29.845-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Questioning Things That Really are Questionable.</title><content type='html'>So lately I been having these ideas go through my head. I think my mom sort of did this to me. I keep thinking what if Roger really isn't "in love" with me. What if, you know, I'm just another girl. It really starts to mess with me. I get upset. I think, okay well, I can deal with this. Then I think, you know, I can't just be another girl. I have to be someone special. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I talk to him. Or I actually think about what I'm thinking about. I'm crazy for thinking that. He really really likes me. He loves me and I am happily in love with him. Nothing can change that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, even if he did talk to another girl or dance with her or take her out, I don't care. He loves me and I truly believe that. He makes me so happy. I'm glad about everything. No matter what. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay just getting things off my mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6653754939860738269?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6653754939860738269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6653754939860738269' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6653754939860738269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6653754939860738269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/09/questioning-things-that-really-are.html' title='Questioning Things That Really are Questionable.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-3463285120971032473</id><published>2007-08-30T09:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T09:16:39.579-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm leaving on a Jet Plane...</title><content type='html'>I bought my ticket this morning. Here is my flight information for October. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave Baltimore at 7:55 on October 4th and then go to San Juan. I leave San Juan at 11:35 and go to St. Maarten. I should arrive in St. Maarten at 1:35!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come back on October the 8th and get in to Baltimore at 11:45 at night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HAVE A TICKET NOW!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really excited!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-3463285120971032473?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/3463285120971032473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=3463285120971032473' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3463285120971032473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3463285120971032473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/08/im-leaving-on-jet-plane.html' title='I&apos;m leaving on a Jet Plane...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-3171320249596907350</id><published>2007-08-29T21:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T21:51:30.209-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Crazy and He Knows It...</title><content type='html'>So I'm mad at myself. I had a cheap plane ticket on hold for 24 hours on american airlines for 361 dollars. I however forgot about it. When I went to buy it tonight. It was gone and well now 540. CRAZY, RIGHT! I am now instead using my "miles" to get a ticket for like $200. I don't know what I'm going to do about my Christmas flight because I was going to use them then. Oh well. It is like $475 for a flight. I don't care. It's worth it to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe I'm crazy enough to doubt him. I like him a lot. He likes me a lot. He misses me a lot. There's this song on my myspace called "There's Nothing" by Sean Kingston and Paula DeAnda.  There's this line in it that says, "I can't lie, boy you're my type of guy, And there's nothing in this world that can stop me from loving you." I think this song is much like what Roger and I have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy about him. I don't care what anyone else has to say. I don't know why any one should care. If I get hurt I get hurt. That is for me to screw up not for anyone to tell me I'm going to screw up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to see Roger. just getting the miles to buy the ticket is making me get really excited for October. It is too far away. Just one month. 36 day until I leave. I'm really excited. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LYRICS TO &lt;br /&gt;THERE'S NOTHING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sean Kingston, JR, Paula&lt;br /&gt;Hey, hey, haha&lt;br /&gt;Sean Kingston, Paula D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing in this world&lt;br /&gt;There’s not another girl that could satisfy my needs&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing in this world&lt;br /&gt;There’s not another boy that could make me feel so sweet&lt;br /&gt;Cos me love life's so right &lt;br /&gt;when she hold me so tight, how she kiss me goodnight&lt;br /&gt;Cos he fills up my life&lt;br /&gt;Like the sun, he shines bright&lt;br /&gt;Boy, come with me now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first night me meet her&lt;br /&gt;Yes me senorita me never want to leave her no&lt;br /&gt;Because the gal look sweet and __ a treat&lt;br /&gt;And me really want to take her home&lt;br /&gt;Cos she look nice and is a one of a kind &lt;br /&gt;When me look up in her eyes then she got me mesmerised&lt;br /&gt;Picture perfect like a Kodak moment&lt;br /&gt;When she kiss me goodnight and she feelin’ up on me&lt;br /&gt;We been there from the jump, never front, never stunt&lt;br /&gt;Never done what a average girl done&lt;br /&gt;And I can tell by her body language&lt;br /&gt;She feels my emotions&lt;br /&gt;And got me anxious&lt;br /&gt;So that's me type&lt;br /&gt;me and me angel&lt;br /&gt;And me really have to let her know&lt;br /&gt;She’s the woman of my life&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes she so right&lt;br /&gt;So please let the chorus go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing in this world&lt;br /&gt;There’s not another girl that could satisfy my needs&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing in this world&lt;br /&gt;There’s not another boy that could make me feel so sweet&lt;br /&gt;Cos me love life's so right &lt;br /&gt;when she hold me so tight, how she kiss me goodnight&lt;br /&gt;Cos he fills up my life&lt;br /&gt;Like the sun, he shines bright&lt;br /&gt;Boy, come with me now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Saw you from across the room&lt;br /&gt;Looking so fly I gotta talk to you, yeah&lt;br /&gt;It didn’t take a sec to see&lt;br /&gt;That you’re the only one who wanna rescue me&lt;br /&gt;I can’t lie, boy you’re my type of guy&lt;br /&gt;And there’s nothing in this world that can stop me from loving you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl you put me in a good mood&lt;br /&gt;And me love the way you flex too&lt;br /&gt;We could chill girl, after school&lt;br /&gt;Cos I ain’t trippin girl it’s up to you&lt;br /&gt;And since then we’ve been inseperable&lt;br /&gt;Cos I did everything to get next to you&lt;br /&gt;Since day 1 you know I stay true&lt;br /&gt;So ever since then it’s been me and my boo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing in this world&lt;br /&gt;There’s not another girl that could satisfy my needs&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing in this world&lt;br /&gt;There’s not another boy that could make me feel so sweet&lt;br /&gt;Cos me love life's so right &lt;br /&gt;when she hold me so tight, how she kiss me goodnight&lt;br /&gt;Cos he fills up my life&lt;br /&gt;Like the sun, he shines bright&lt;br /&gt;Boy, come with me now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Sean Kingston)&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing in this world, There’s nothing in this world&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing, there’s nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Paula Deanda)&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing in this world, There’s nothing in this world&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing, there’s nothing&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-3171320249596907350?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/3171320249596907350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=3171320249596907350' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3171320249596907350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3171320249596907350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/08/im-crazy-and-he-knows-it.html' title='I&apos;m Crazy and He Knows It...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5602771639748801867</id><published>2007-08-17T18:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T19:36:33.462-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Him More and More...</title><content type='html'>I'm in a sickeningly cute relationship. I love it. That is crazy right. He is just amazing. I've never been this happy and stress-free ever, well in my teenage/adult life. He makes me smile. He is everything I could ever ask for. That is so freakin' crazy. He is head over heels for me and I'm head over heels for him. I'm going to visit him in October. I don't think the days will pass quick enough. He is so freakin' extraordinary -"Are u crazy? i will never forget u sweety, i can't stop thinking about u" How cute is that? I talked to his mom today and she was like I have one lovesick boy in my house. He doesn't care if I like the right kind of music. He doesn't care if I don't want to go out every night. He loves me and that is crazy. I love him. I'm so happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know... I'm crazy about him and he's crazy about me- "i can't wait for u to come back so i could hold u in my arms. love u more than u can imagine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh dear. what am i doing?... haha whatever it is I like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole loves Roger.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5602771639748801867?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5602771639748801867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5602771639748801867' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5602771639748801867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5602771639748801867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/08/missing-him-more-and-more.html' title='Missing Him More and More...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7250338960356239263</id><published>2007-08-09T23:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T00:05:33.649-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Amazing Sun... I once was white but now I'm brown.</title><content type='html'>The past two weeks was the best vacation I have ever been on. I don't know where to start or what to say. I met a guy. I had the time of my life. I have changed. I'm a different person. I have a new out look on my life and other mundane things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to call Jon. I'm not sure if I should, but I mean I can talk to him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting in to 'island' music... haha. I sound so lame. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss Roger. He makes me so happy. He is a great guy. I wish you guys could meet him. You would understand why I feel the way I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sleepy. If you wish to know more ask me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later Haters&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7250338960356239263?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7250338960356239263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7250338960356239263' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7250338960356239263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7250338960356239263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/08/amazing-sun-i-once-was-white-but-now-im.html' title='Amazing Sun... I once was white but now I&apos;m brown.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7736147654525798551</id><published>2007-07-23T14:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T14:22:58.094-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I'm happy.</title><content type='html'>He told me he hated me and that make me happy. I'm glad. Things can move forward not backwards now. We can be friends or whatever. It doesn't matter now. I know that we will have a relationship and not a romantic one. I'm happy about that. I'm not sure if we are going to be the bestest of best friends but there is come crazy connection there. I think I understand him. I know why he works. I like that. I think he understands me too. I know he understands me. He doesn't always get me but he understands me. That sounds really confusing but that is how it is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really happy that he has moved on. I wish it could have happened sooner for him. I had moved on so long ago. I mean there was still a bit of physical attraction to him but basically I wanted nothing more than to be friends with a really awesome person. I'm glad he hates me. I hate him, in the kindest way possible. He dragged this out way too long. He wouldn't give up on me. I used to wish he would hate me. When he told me he hated me last night, it hit me. This is really over and done with. It's done. I cried. I was so sad, so relieved and so happy at the same time. It hurts when someone tells you they hate you. I was free, finally. He had moved on. We can start again. No more wishing or hoping things were like there were. He is over it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I thought I was going to be more depressed about this but I'm not. I'm ecstatic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some thing the other night made me just think. Julie told me that Louis used to call her and talk to her about me. It hit me. Louis and Jon, I put them both in the same position. Both of them took it differently and I learned things from them both. I rush things. I hurt people. I'm inpatient. I distance myself. I'm careless. I'm afraid of a lot of things, mainly commitment. I make mistakes. I'm human, well not completely (i'm part vampire). I'm self centered. I'm conceded. Most of all, I don't think enough about the consequences of my actions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to change. I don't know how soon or how much. I've realized I don't like hurting people. I need to be a better person, a person that I like, a person that others can like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7736147654525798551?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7736147654525798551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7736147654525798551' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7736147654525798551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7736147654525798551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-think-im-happy.html' title='I think I&apos;m happy.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-2504486587855756994</id><published>2007-07-21T15:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T15:39:18.710-04:00</updated><title type='text'>so.</title><content type='html'>harry potter is out. i've yet to make myself get up out of my bed to go buy a copy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm reading the old ones though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not sure where i was going with this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh yeah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't tell me what happens if you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thank you and i'll speak with all of you later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-2504486587855756994?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/2504486587855756994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=2504486587855756994' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2504486587855756994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/2504486587855756994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/07/so.html' title='so.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7416478566724285967</id><published>2007-07-19T16:57:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T16:57:51.366-04:00</updated><title type='text'>forget this.</title><content type='html'>i'm tired of this. you don't even want to talk to me. i wanted to still be your friend but i really don't think that is even going to work out. it's best this way. i've ruined enough things, why not a friendship or two. so. i hope you have fun in your life. don't die young or anything. maybe someday we'll be mature enough to talk to each other. God your a real jerk. i mean stand up for your self. tell me you don't want to talk... don't avoid me. i was giving you space not avoiding you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on a lighter note...&lt;br /&gt;i hope you liked the package i sent you. you'll probably hate it but i don't know... who cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's not like i want to talk to you anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know i sound like a 6th grader but this is what you've made me resort to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;go ahead make fun of me. i don't give a fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-nicole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7416478566724285967?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7416478566724285967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7416478566724285967' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7416478566724285967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7416478566724285967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/07/forget-this.html' title='forget this.'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7434831198194129414</id><published>2007-07-16T23:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T23:54:44.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So As It Turns Out...</title><content type='html'>I'm going to St. Martin. I'm really excited for some strange reason. I'm leaving next Friday the 27th and coming back on August 3rd. It's like a week. I actually would really like a good vacation. I haven't been to a real beach in forever. I get to sit on a beach and tan! I'm not going to be white anymore!!! I'm so excited! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished the 2nd Harry Potter book today. I also saw Ratatouille. It was so cute. I would so watch it again. I'm just updating on my randomnesses. haha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a 7 hour lay over in Dallas on next Friday. My mom is going to come have lunch and give me my passport, which I hope she has. Maybe if you want to come see me and have lunch with us you could...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay sleep!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7434831198194129414?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7434831198194129414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7434831198194129414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7434831198194129414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7434831198194129414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/07/so-as-it-turns-out.html' title='So As It Turns Out...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-73443443398383417</id><published>2007-07-13T22:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T22:56:47.502-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Things Just Never End Up How You Think They Will, But Sometimes They End Up Just How You Used To Think They Would</title><content type='html'>So I'm in Virginia now. Back up here for good. Well You know what I mean. I'm just chilling at the house. Unpacking is a bitch. I have way too many books. I have way too many clothes. It's okay though. I'll make room. I miss being here. I miss being there too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my friends a lot. I woke up this morning and thought about calling Erica and Julie to see what they were doing today. Then I realized that I couldn't do anything with them even if I wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm listening to the new Spoon CD, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, right now. The bonus disc actually. It is really cool. They have some rough cuts of their old songs on it. It's like 23 minutes long... I like it a lot. It is good music to fall asleep too. But most of the music I buy is good for that.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've started to re-read all of the Harry Potter books since I have nothing better to do. I have read the 1st one and have begun the 2nd one. I also got my little cousins to watch Star Wars 4: A New Hope. They have the Lego Star Wars video game and have become obsessed with it. At least it is better than Halo or sports games, I think. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've almost called Jon 3 times today. Well one time was a text message but I didn't even send it. I just want to hang out with him but I know it is a bad idea. I'm going to go crazy by myself. My Aunt Jeri, Uncle Daniel, Jadan, and Jayde are all going on vacation  to Saint Martin in a week. I'm going to be alone. Not that the alone thing bothers me too much, it is more that, yeah it is that I'm going to be alone and knowing that I could have stayed in Texas or even that Jon could come visit, but that would be a bad idea. I might go into the city. Go to a record shop or two. Go to the museums. Be a loser tourist. Take my camera, sit at the monuments. Buy Guitar Hero for my little cousin's x-box 360 and work on beating the game for the two weeks they are gone. Who knows I might even get a job and meet a boy and get married and have babies... oh wait I can't do all of that in two weeks... maybe not the babies part yet. But the boy, yes please. hehe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-73443443398383417?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/73443443398383417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=73443443398383417' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/73443443398383417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/73443443398383417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/07/some-things-just-never-end-up-how-you.html' title='Some Things Just Never End Up How You Think They Will, But Sometimes They End Up Just How You Used To Think They Would'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-7978817598180921144</id><published>2007-07-02T02:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T02:46:34.678-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Another Classy Type</title><content type='html'>Tonight was one of those nights. It was one of those nights that you know you will remember for a long time. It was in a sense a Classic Night. I don't really know how to explain that. It was just a night that makes everything melt into the background. No matter how life is no matter how much drama is there no matter where or when it is, everything is just great. It was a nice night out too. The moon was beautiful and full. It was dark but if you look at the horizon you could still see the sunlight bouncing off the clouds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I went with Erica and her grandma, jess and jane, and two of their friends to fair park. Dallas was having its huge fourth of July celebration. I was excited. There was free museums, music from the symphony orchestra, and a huge fireworks show. Everything was so nice. Erica and I saw Yoshi and talked to him. We laid down in the grass and listen to classical music and then once it was good and dark we got to see the fireworks show which was awe inspiring. It was so nice to do that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once Erica and I got back to her house we went for a drive. We drove for about an hour. Windows down, radio up, all over Rockwall county and even in to Collin county. It was just nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is going to be interesting. It is the one week left marker. That is always so weird to me. I have one week before I have to go to Virginia. I'm staying there this time. Erica made a comment in the van right as we going to fair park about me changing my mind again at the end of the next semester. I asked her if she really though I was going to change my mind again when we drove around. She doesn't know. I don't think I am. I think a lot of things came down to me choosing to do what I did last semester. I think it will be different. I know it will be different.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-7978817598180921144?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/7978817598180921144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=7978817598180921144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7978817598180921144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/7978817598180921144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/07/just-another-classy-type.html' title='Just Another Classy Type'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-5261834566947923164</id><published>2007-06-23T09:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-23T16:08:45.163-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's 4 O'clock in the Fucking Morning...</title><content type='html'>Well it was. Jon called me at 4 yes 4 o'clock this morning. Oh Dear is right. You can only image in the conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Heeeelllooo&lt;br /&gt;Jon: Oh were you asleep?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes. Goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;*Click*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, It turned into a 2 hour conversation. To go in to detail would be hard to remember. So I'll just leave everything at that. I really don't know. Okay I told him that we could be together again. Like you know 'relationship-ness.' Stupid, right? I don't know what was going through my head. It was, well, I'm not really sure. Anyways, I guess you can say we are official again. Maybe if things aren't good this time he will get the picture. I don't know. I should have just said no right. Wait, I think I was the one who suggested it. Fuck. I'm going to have to talk to him when he calls me. I can't do this. It is absurd. Crazy. Stupid. But maybe it will make him realize that things aren't good between us at all. We should be friends and that is it. Oh well. It is supposed to be a secret. He isn't going to tell anyone and well I wasn't. Erica and Julie will know. I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy. I think this will be fun. That sounds awful. I now feel like I'm using him. This isn't going to last very long. How dare he call me at 4 o'clock in the morning. He knows I don't function very well then. I bet he planned it. Forgot about the time difference my ass. Jerk Face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. That feels better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edit: I don't know what to do. I was tired. I just wanted us to just get along. I mean is that to much to ask. I have to tell him that it isn't what I really want. Blah I have a headache. I'm still sleepy. I think I might just make him hate me. It wouldn't be that hard. Well I could try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-5261834566947923164?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/5261834566947923164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=5261834566947923164' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5261834566947923164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/5261834566947923164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/06/its-4-oclock-in-fucking-morning.html' title='It&apos;s 4 O&apos;clock in the Fucking Morning...'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-4380511767968432540</id><published>2007-06-20T00:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T00:21:23.021-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Boredom Now Requires Boys and Bad Movies</title><content type='html'>Stupid movies are getting to me. For some reason every movie on my queue is now stupid to me. I wish some good movie were out. I don't know. Maybe it's just me hating this for a little bit right now. I don't know. I want to watch Dogma. Good thing I bought it recently. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jon's gone. Like for real gone. We, I mean I, basically decided that things couldn't go anywhere and that we were to be friends. I'm not sure how I feel about this now. I know it sounds bad, but I'm ready to jump just about any boy... except Mitchell. I need to just... never mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a blog with my story on it. www.astorytobenamed.blogspot.com &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should go read it. I'll put more up later in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-4380511767968432540?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/4380511767968432540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=4380511767968432540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4380511767968432540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4380511767968432540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/06/boredom-now-requires-boys-and-bad.html' title='Boredom Now Requires Boys and Bad Movies'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-3112321256087325136</id><published>2007-06-15T09:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T13:54:52.891-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not So Worried About Nothing</title><content type='html'>I've been recently picking back up on my old writing habit (i.e. blogspot). Mainly I've been working on my story about The Strokes. I know, you're thinking FanFic but I don't care the names could be changed and no one have a clue otherwise. I'm probably going to put it up here soon and the one I wrote about Conor. This should be fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jon is going to be here today. I decided not to help my granny today and finish cleaning the house and try to make me fell not gross. I need to get back to that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-3112321256087325136?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/3112321256087325136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=3112321256087325136' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3112321256087325136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/3112321256087325136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/06/not-so-worried-about-nothing.html' title='Not So Worried About Nothing'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-4189013924420789478</id><published>2007-06-14T01:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-14T01:08:18.881-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks Amanda and Erica</title><content type='html'>1. Grab the nearest book.&lt;br /&gt;2. Open the book to page 23.&lt;br /&gt;3. Find the fifth sentence.&lt;br /&gt;4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"May I Have one of these?" he asked, pointing to a hot dog he glimpsed as my mother opened the refrigerator door to put away the lettuce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running with Scissors&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was exciting. (agreed) Thank you, Amanda and Erica.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-4189013924420789478?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/4189013924420789478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=4189013924420789478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4189013924420789478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/4189013924420789478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/06/thanks-amanda-and-erica.html' title='Thanks Amanda and Erica'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-1004406845520192793</id><published>2007-06-14T00:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-14T01:09:22.038-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting for a Train Wreck</title><content type='html'>You'll be here soon. I'm not sure how everything is going to be. I can't wait to see you I mean but isn't it going to be a little weird. How will we act around each other? Will you be scared of my friends? They don't bite I promise. I love them. I hope you do too. They mean as much to me as you do. Us, well me and you, we are great friends. I'm happy about that. The complexity of our relationship is confusing sometimes but I think that is why I love talking to you so much. Crazy, right? I think that we would have been a great couple but I'm happy that we are just friends. It isn't so hard for me this way. We could never be together now. After what I have done to you and what I have put you through. I would never let you sink that low. I love you, but not in that way. I love you like I love Erica. How I love Julie and Gee and Danie. I love you and care about you. You were the only person I had when I made a difficult transition in my life. I love you for being there for me. I know I sound crazy. I know I am crazy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways today was crazy just like Friday is going to be. I need to think about not smoking. It is bad for you. I'm not smoking that much though. Just every now and then when I'm stressed. I'm getting sleepy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-1004406845520192793?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/1004406845520192793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=1004406845520192793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1004406845520192793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/1004406845520192793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/06/waiting-for-train-wreck.html' title='Waiting for a Train Wreck'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6829748011404850922</id><published>2007-06-11T08:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T08:59:28.325-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Trying Too Hard To Sleep You Out Of My Mind</title><content type='html'>So lately I've been sleeping a lot. Like I'm talking about a good 8-10 hours a night. I like it but I sometimes think I'm trying to avoid things by sleeping. I mean like hanging out with people and/or talking to people. Basically I know that I won't have to talk to Jon if I go to sleep early. I think with him I have two sides of myself. I just want to be his friend. That is all. I don't think anything could every happen again. I hope that we would never get back together. I know that sounds bad. I was talking to Erica the other day and was like it can't happen. I think that there would be a huge issue of trust on both sides. It would be like how could he ever really know what I really meant. No matter how bad this sounds I'm going to say this. I think we would have been a HELL of a lot better if we had been friends. I don't want to go on about relationships right now but I think that friends is always the best way to start. I mean you can become friends and what not but it is like what happens when you break up? Being friends first sets certain boundaries that just being in a relationship doesn't. That is a real problem for me and Jon. I think of him as a GREAT! friend but sometimes I just get to being the girlfriend Nicole without even thinking about it. A lot of his friends think we shouldn't talk and well maybe they are right. Some of them hate me, although Jon wouldn't ever say that to my face. They should hate me. I would be worried if they didn't. That just proves how much better of friends they are then me. Someday I think Jon and I will be totally okay with each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jon is going to be here soon. Him and Oscar, a person who hates me more than most of his friends. They are staying with me for a night. I don't know why I was like come visit. I really do want to see him and I really don't mind Oscar that much. I guess we will have to just see how that goes. A detailed encounter on Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm completely broke so I'm going to help my Granny clean this week. Gee is here. I have missed her. She makes you freak out and smile at the same time. She is a great person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need to chill about things. I'm trying really hard to be someone I can look at and deal with. Someone I really admire. Someone I can live with and have nothing to regret. I'm trying. We'll see how that works out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6829748011404850922?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6829748011404850922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6829748011404850922' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6829748011404850922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6829748011404850922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/06/trying-too-hard-to-sleep-you-out-of-my.html' title='Trying Too Hard To Sleep You Out Of My Mind'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8353612510677892358.post-6758901373105869431</id><published>2007-06-01T13:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T11:56:54.677-04:00</updated><title type='text'>40 Things To Do</title><content type='html'>1. Learn to speak fluent French. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Own my own bakery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Live somewhere out of the US for more than one year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Get married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Read 52 books in a year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Have one of my photographs win some award.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Visit England for a month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Decorate my bedroom in a way that I really like for once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Go to a Christmas mass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Spend a week just sitting on a beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Enter a sand castle building contest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Keep a daily journal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Make an executive decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Find a hobby and really stick to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Go camping more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Make a snowman that is taller than I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Go swimming in all of the oceans in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Be completely self-sufficient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Learn how to play the viola or cello.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. See The Strokes play in New York City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Own a Claw foot tub.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Spend several days reading all of the Harry Potter books one after the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Learn to Foxtrot, Tango and Waltz correctly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Make a new friend who is nothing like myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Make a living out of something I really like to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Spend at least one day out of each week with out using a cell phone or computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Buy a hybrid car or a Jeep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Spend more time listening to classical music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. Spend less time worry about things that could happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. Build something with my hands that doesn't look like crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Stop drinking caffeine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Have a music collection that is great than my uncle's. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. Have a music room in my house/apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. Take more chances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Have a library in my house, a huge library.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Do something that make someone else feel special every week or so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Really fall in Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Be myself around everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Don't hold back. Open up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. Tell him why things really went the way they did. Tell him what he did wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8353612510677892358-6758901373105869431?l=knee-cole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/feeds/6758901373105869431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8353612510677892358&amp;postID=6758901373105869431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6758901373105869431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8353612510677892358/posts/default/6758901373105869431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knee-cole.blogspot.com/2007/06/50-things-to-do.html' title='40 Things To Do'/><author><name>Knee-Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12079823260950335191</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QAxYgDIXb2U/SLIkSKnWEcI/AAAAAAAAAFA/6mFp9AAbQuQ/S220/n1539990045_30106394_789.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
