<?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-9104717</id><updated>2011-08-31T00:33:18.127-04:00</updated><category term='I GOT A CAR WOOO'/><category term='Life'/><category term='Flab to...... TOATLLY FAD'/><category term='And the point is....?'/><category term='Highschool... Still?'/><category term='Snow day please.'/><category term='Day 1 of 25 days of Christmas.'/><category term='Summer Tiiiiiimmmmme'/><category term='Adventures'/><category term='HIV/AIDS'/><category term='Day 2 of 25 Days of Christmas'/><category term='Birthday'/><category term='How about.. an update?'/><category term='Love is Evil'/><category term='Lugnuts'/><category term='Day 12 of 25 days of Christmas.'/><category term='It&apos;s finally over'/><category term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Driven Under</title><subtitle type='html'>Sometimes I can't help thinking, What about me?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>242</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-1986441415357647230</id><published>2008-06-05T14:44:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T15:12:41.169-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='It&apos;s finally over'/><title type='text'>That’s it. It’s done. It’s over.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This is going to be my last post, I’ve decided, because then this blog will be throughout my high school career. My high school experience and how it changed me. All the many hardships I faced, fears, infatuations, and my accomplishments. I thought that once that chapter in my life was over, it was time to start afresh.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SEg6F5d1gPI/AAAAAAAAAAg/N_SCTZRPCqw/s1600-h/DSC01291.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SEg6F5d1gPI/AAAAAAAAAAg/N_SCTZRPCqw/s320/DSC01291.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208476842053697778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I graduated from &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Williamston&lt;/st1:placename&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;High School&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; on Sunday, June 3&lt;sup&gt;rd&lt;/sup&gt;. I wore my white cap and gown, and received my bronze cord. It was one of the most overwhelming experiences I’ve ever been through. I remember sitting in my seat, facing the stage and realizing that &lt;i style=""&gt;this was &lt;b style=""&gt;it.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; I’m actually graduating. I was so nervous when he called my name, and I walked onto that stage. I’ve never felt so clammy in my LIFE. I took my diploma from my principal, and just continued walking. Just like that, and it was over. I was done. I was waiting to blink my eyes, and just like in the movies be 30 years old, living a whole different life. I was waiting for something extravagant to happen, just a sign to prove to me that it was really finished. But everything just continued forward, just like I continued to walk off that stage.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SEg6GRMKOBI/AAAAAAAAAAw/cCuSc5PZR54/s1600-h/l_f28a937c5abeb1eb30d0dbc34b8aed12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SEg6GRMKOBI/AAAAAAAAAAw/cCuSc5PZR54/s320/l_f28a937c5abeb1eb30d0dbc34b8aed12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208476848422008850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Tuesday night I had one of the biggest panic attacks I’ve ever thought I could have. I began to think that I was making the huge mistake of going to CMU. I thought I had just jumped into it, and didn’t think about it. I thought I wasn’t ready to leave home yet, and that I couldn’t live on my own. I stayed awake all that night, and didn’t get any sleep. The following morning, I was off to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Mt.&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;  &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Pleasant&lt;/st1:placename&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; for freshmen orientation. Once I got there, I felt at home. It was like all my fears were washed away, and the realization hit me that I &lt;i style=""&gt;could&lt;/i&gt; do this. This was going to be my home for the next four years. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SEg6GGGfq4I/AAAAAAAAAAo/CYBHOYlmJzk/s1600-h/DSC01303.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SEg6GGGfq4I/AAAAAAAAAAo/CYBHOYlmJzk/s320/DSC01303.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208476845445458818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So I guess that’s it. I don’t want to drown my final post out with the latest drama, and what I normally sit and complain about. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Watch out Central. Here I come.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ciao.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SEg6GWDDRaI/AAAAAAAAAA4/NhRwFYpdQIA/s1600-h/n1266390051_30043894_487.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SEg6GWDDRaI/AAAAAAAAAA4/NhRwFYpdQIA/s320/n1266390051_30043894_487.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208476849725982114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-1986441415357647230?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/1986441415357647230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=1986441415357647230' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1986441415357647230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1986441415357647230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/06/thats-it-its-done-its-over.html' title='That’s it. It’s done. It’s over.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SEg6F5d1gPI/AAAAAAAAAAg/N_SCTZRPCqw/s72-c/DSC01291.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-3439114188343439133</id><published>2008-05-29T16:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T16:41:55.431-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='It&apos;s finally over'/><title type='text'>Happy last day of school...</title><content type='html'>Today was my last day of high school. I was happy. But now I'm not. I shouldn't be crying on my last day of high school. But here I am with my mascara streaming down my face. Now I have to go to work with my eyes all puffy and red, and then go to a dinner where I wasn't even invited in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't hate the '08.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I sure can try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-3439114188343439133?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/3439114188343439133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=3439114188343439133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/3439114188343439133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/3439114188343439133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/05/happy-last-day-of-school.html' title='Happy last day of school...'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-6151401764939917841</id><published>2008-05-20T00:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T00:06:23.387-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><title type='text'>There's never a dull moment.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;So this weekend was probably one of the best I’ve had in a while. Friday morning I walked out of my room at 10:30 only to find Ellie curled on my couch sleeping. She ever brought her own blanket. After that it was pretty much decided we were just going to skip the entire day. We didn’t end up doing much, sat around mostly, and then went to Sunny Side to get some breakfast. After breakfast, we just continued to sit around. Later on we had decided we were going to go out clubbing that night. By the time we got all dolled up, and got some food, we decided we didn’t really feel like going. Under the false understanding of delicious liquid and a fire fighter, we followed Brad to Denny’s… which eventually just led us back to Ellie’s house. What a waste.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Saturday night turned out to be entertaining, to say the least. After I got off work, I met up with Ellie and Kara, over at Ellie’s house. We watched the Tigers game for a little while, and also watched them WIN! Anyway, Dan and Glen came over and watched it with us for a bit. After the game, we somehow came to the conclusion that we were all 18. Off to the Lions Den we went! It was probably one of the most awkward, and amusing trips we’ve ever gone on. After wandering around for about 45 minutes, and laughing harder than I have in weeks, we headed back to Ellie’s house to find Craig, his cousin, and his sister. We hung out for a while, and then headed to Denny’s ONCE AGAIN.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;The next morning we slept until 1, and finally decided to get our lazy asses out of bed. I turned my phone on and ended up getting about 20 text messages from my boss, saying he needed me to come in and help him out. So I threw some pants on and sped off to work, only to get the end of a big rush. That was totally worth it... Not to mention I got bossed around by a 4’4” ginger bitch who thought she owned the place. Bitch.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Later that night the three amigos decided to go out before we started another hellish week. So after getting all attractive once again, we had a large debate on whether or not we should see a movie… or try hookah… I’ll give you a hint: we didn’t go see a movie. We walked in and had absolutely no idea what to do. I ended up texting McBride and he gave me a lot of pointers. After Kara got out of work she joined in on all the fun. It was a pretty cool new experience. I would definitely do it again.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I guess that’s everything.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Ciao&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Memorable moments… for everyone else… courtesy of me.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“YOUR CAR SOUNDS REALLY HOT!”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“THE SEATBELT IS CHOKING ME…!”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-6151401764939917841?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/6151401764939917841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=6151401764939917841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6151401764939917841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6151401764939917841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/05/theres-never-dull-moment.html' title='There&apos;s never a dull moment.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-1440670117158364877</id><published>2008-05-08T00:46:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T00:52:02.879-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='And the point is....?'/><title type='text'>Ready for the weekend!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It’s passed midnight, and I cannot sleep! I swear I’m becoming a night owl more and more each night. Meh. Whatever.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Today was actually a pretty good day. Mom has been bugging me about taking my pill, and so I finally did. What a difference a little pill can make! My entire mood did a 360, and I had the biggest burst of extra energy that I’m not used to. I guess I will start taking them again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Only went to two classes today, but that was quite enough. It’s a little bad when even two classes feels like practically the whole day. Tomorrow I will do the same thing; Friday we’re off to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Detroit&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; for our fun weekend. When I got home today I finally-FINALLY got to watch Dirty Dancing: &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Havana&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; Nights… INCREDIBLE. Holy cow I was not expecting to react to the movie in such a way. Oh, and Diego Luna? Gorgeous. The movie really made me aware of one thing: how very single I am.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Went to work and had a really good night. Jessica and I re-patched everything which was good. After work she came over; we were going to go to the casino, but the parentals wouldn’t allow me to. So instead we watched Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights again! I could go and watch it for a third time! &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I guess that’s it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-1440670117158364877?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/1440670117158364877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=1440670117158364877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1440670117158364877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1440670117158364877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/05/mmm-diegoluna.html' title='Ready for the weekend!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-5181902131124396362</id><published>2008-05-06T10:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T10:50:28.670-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No. It's not enough.</title><content type='html'>It is always easier to say something when it doesn’t come straight from your mouth, isn’t it? Let me explain: face to face conversations always seem to be the hardest, so that is why most of us use these blogs to get out our true feelings. For it be one of many reasons such as: too self-conscious, afraid, nervous, or just the simple fact that having a computer screen in front of one’s face, makes them feel as though they can curse the world. What is my reason? I feel as though I’m under some kind of verbal obligation that doesn’t allow me to say what I really want to say, in front of their faces. I’m always so afraid of hurting everyone else’s feelings. So once again, here I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’re sorry you didn’t hear it from my face? There is so much more you have yet to here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m tired of you always being depressed.&lt;br /&gt;I’m tired of how you always put yourself down.&lt;br /&gt;I’m tired of you always feeling sorry for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;I’m tired of you making plans, and canceling plans only to remake said plans later.&lt;br /&gt;I’m tired of how you always say you wasted my time over “all these years.”&lt;br /&gt;I’m tired of you always biting my head off, or being short with me.&lt;br /&gt;I’m tired of you wasting so much unnecessary energy worrying about C, and all the things she has, and what you don’t have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there’s still more:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you showing up at my house everyday.&lt;br /&gt;I miss all the adventures we would skip the entire day for.&lt;br /&gt;I miss having you there when I need to talk to someone.&lt;br /&gt;I miss the long random conversations we could come up with.&lt;br /&gt;I miss the midnight runs to ANYWHERE.&lt;br /&gt;I miss seeing you smile and laugh for just a few hours, because it’s then that you’re finally being yourself and not letting everything get you down.&lt;br /&gt;I miss driving long places with the windows down either listening to Keith Urban, or the Gasoline song you always listen to when you’re feeling BA.&lt;br /&gt;I miss the girl that could sit out on the bed of a truck for two hours with me, and not even remember what we talked about, but remember we were laughing uncontrollably at her stupid dog.&lt;br /&gt;I miss having my older sister in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you. I miss having you around. I feel like all I ever do is get on your nerves. Stop being sorry for everything! Chicago sounded like a great trip, but there will always be other times for an even bigger trip. We’re both the same: we beat up on ourselves every chance we get. I know people change, and good things never last, but I don’t think I was quite ready for this to change yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-5181902131124396362?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/5181902131124396362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=5181902131124396362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5181902131124396362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5181902131124396362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/05/no-its-not-enough.html' title='No. It&apos;s not enough.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-4819298014968196466</id><published>2008-05-05T22:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T22:06:23.426-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Yeah. Kinda like that.</title><content type='html'>I panicked today; more than I have even panicked in my life. I can’t quite explain why, but it felt like I was suffocating. Everything was just too close, too available, and too real. I ended up ripping practically everything off my walls in an attempt to breathe, but all I ended up doing was making my room look… blank. I can’t get over the feeling that everything is closing in on me at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s all I have to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-4819298014968196466?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/4819298014968196466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=4819298014968196466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4819298014968196466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4819298014968196466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/05/yeah-kinda-like-that.html' title='Yeah. Kinda like that.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-2189462214565890746</id><published>2008-05-04T21:48:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T21:53:53.580-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birthday'/><title type='text'>Bing Bing Bing Bing!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Finally, my awaited 18&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; birthday, and so far it was more than I could have ever asked for! Friday night I had to work, but then Ellie and I ended up watching the Game Plan at her house until the early morning hours. It was much better than I expected it to have been; both of us ended up crying out eyes out at the end. The next morning, she finally slept in until 11 (shocker, I know) and then she went into crazy date mode. She took me home around 2:45 and went to her date in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Novi&lt;/st1:place&gt;, which apparently went really well! When I got home I spent some quality time with my brother, which is always rare nowadays. It is always nice when I get to spend time with him, because we both have such busy schedules that always seem to clash.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Anyways, I went to work that night and did not enjoy it one bit. I absolutely despise working with John and Joren, not only for the fact that they are still stuck in the post-dating, pre-redating thing, but I’m really beginning to think John is not a huge fan of me. Jessica eventually came in to close with me at 7, and things went alright from there. For some reason I felt the horrible urge to prove myself to John, to somehow change his mind about me? I ended up cleaning the entire kitchen, practically by myself until close. Jessica and I were beginning to get on each others nerves, which isn’t much of a rare thing these days. Although the whole situation is getting to be a little old, I’m quickly losing the patience to keep dealing with it. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After work I came home, Ellie following right along, took a shower and got all cleaned up. From there we headed out to Brad’s cousins house, which is way out in the middle of nowhere. We had a ton of fun, well that is until I decided to flip out on Ellie for absolutely no reason. I felt really bad afterwards, mainly because she just broke down into a complete drunk sob, but at the same time I don’t. It just gets really old when that same type of phrase continues to come out of people’s mouths, and they are always directed towards my best friends. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I ended up driving her car home at like 2am, and we passed out pretty quickly. Woke up at 9 with anticipation and excitement practically bursting through every pore because today was the day that we got to go to the CASINO! Got ready pretty quickly, well… I did, and headed home to meet dad and Leo. We pulled into the parking lot, and dad got “his” parking spot, which ironically someone was just pulling out of right when we were pulling into the parking lot. As we walking into the front doors, Ellie and I just kind of stopped and stared. It was as if we had just walked onto a movie set; everything was dinging, blinking, and lit up. By the end of the night I had began with $87, got up to about $200, and then lost it all. $87 in the hole!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-2189462214565890746?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/2189462214565890746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=2189462214565890746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/2189462214565890746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/2189462214565890746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/05/bing-bing-bing-bing.html' title='Bing Bing Bing Bing!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-4287300634347893539</id><published>2008-04-21T22:23:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T22:26:53.585-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Moose</title><content type='html'>Horseback riding has been a huge part of my life for some time now, but thanks to life, crappy people, and insufficient funds, it no longer is. After a while it become a unanimous decision to sell Will. We went out yesterday to drop off food for him, and to take some pictures that we can send along to C.A.N.T.E.R. in hopes that they will buy him back. I really wasn’t affected with the thought of selling him, until I finally downloaded the pictures onto my computer. I regret not riding him every chance I got and I regret not being able to be around him more. I’ve had him for about two years, and he is still no further than when I bought him. Once again that feeling of failure threatens to come knocking at my door, but I have to remember everything that happened. It was as though all the signs were pointing in this direction over all these years, and I was just too blind to see it.&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SA1Mps_XIcI/AAAAAAAAAAY/gtraerj3UQM/s1600-h/DSC01089.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SA1Mps_XIcI/AAAAAAAAAAY/gtraerj3UQM/s320/DSC01089.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191890224763314626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-4287300634347893539?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/4287300634347893539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=4287300634347893539' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4287300634347893539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4287300634347893539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/04/moose.html' title='Moose'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_drVx0nEy7NQ/SA1Mps_XIcI/AAAAAAAAAAY/gtraerj3UQM/s72-c/DSC01089.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-525033456135191833</id><published>2008-04-20T21:33:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T21:37:05.860-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='And the point is....?'/><title type='text'>Whoops.</title><content type='html'>I was going to post something, but now that I'm on here. I don't really feel like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-525033456135191833?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/525033456135191833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=525033456135191833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/525033456135191833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/525033456135191833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/04/whoops.html' title='Whoops.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-7043315835942354599</id><published>2008-04-17T23:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T23:49:24.948-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Highschool... Still?'/><title type='text'>Shared sorrow is half sorrow, shared joy is double joy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;I thought it was about time that I updated, though I really don’t have any thoughts going on. Well, that wouldn’t quite be the truth, but I always have been a bit of a liar. To be honest, I’m quite overwhelmed with school at the moment. Not because of homework, or tests, or anything actually “academic” but more for the reason that I still have to go everyday. I know schooling is going to be in my life for many more years to come, but high school is overstaying its welcome, and becoming a burden. I’m ready for something far more challenging than what I entail day after day. A new story, with an array of scenes, characters, tragedies, happy endings, and adventures alike. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Ellie and I went and got ice cream today after school. It was kind of a sudden thing, when she came strolling into my house, to find me in the back yard trying to persuade my dog into bringing his ball to me (Which ended up not quite working out. Damn dog.). We ended up going to Cold Stone in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;East   Lansing&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;, and got way too much ice cream. I swear we are both going to end up with diabetes. It was when we were on our way back, driving through campus, that I really started to believe that we could make it living together next year and starting college together. You know when you get those moments, where you feel like your life is exactly where it needs to be, and that overwhelming feeling of contentment takes over? I felt that today. Not having felt it in a while, and for the first time in a long time I felt happy.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;There are days when I find myself feeling hopeless at the beginning, but they never seem to end in such a way. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;"My best friends are the ones who bring out the best in me."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-7043315835942354599?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/7043315835942354599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=7043315835942354599' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7043315835942354599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7043315835942354599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/04/shared-sorrow-is-half-sorrow-shared-joy.html' title='Shared sorrow is half sorrow, shared joy is double joy'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-4225828102277523700</id><published>2008-03-03T21:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T21:22:31.751-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer Tiiiiiimmmmme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How about.. an update?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Highschool... Still?'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's March! Hurray!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I went walking outside, and it was actually.... SEMI-WARM! I know... I know, we all know spring is coming when the 40 degree weather brings all the rain! Gotta love 30 days straight of pure rain, and that lovely worm smell that always comes along with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because it is our last year of high school (praise god) Ellie and I finally decided it was time to go on a Spring Break trip! We're going to Florida! WOO! I've never been on a plane, and have never seen the ocean before. We got our plane tickets yesterday! Now I just have to stop eating, and start running, and I will have that not-so-perfect-but-kinda-passable swim suit body!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jessica and I decided we were going to celebrate both of our birthdays in May, and drag Ellie along. Because we are... us... we got reservations at the Renaissance O'Hare in Chicago! We also got tickets for the male strip club, Sinzation, and so far we are the only ones for that day! LOL! A whole strip club for the three of us. I wouldn't mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then last but certainly not least, Kenny Chesney concert on may 22nd. I have been studying my Kenny songs, and I think we're meeting Bobby there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and I actually decided on Anthropology for Central! STUDY ABROAD IN IRELAND BABY! WOO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30 Days till Florida&lt;br /&gt;62 Days till my 18th&lt;br /&gt;67 Days till Chicago with my girls&lt;br /&gt;80 Days till Kenny Chesney&lt;br /&gt;90 Days till graduation!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-4225828102277523700?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/4225828102277523700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=4225828102277523700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4225828102277523700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4225828102277523700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/03/its-march-hurray-so-today-i-went.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-6212667781706572886</id><published>2008-02-25T22:24:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T22:36:59.091-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Highschool... Still?'/><title type='text'>High Hopes.</title><content type='html'>I have nothing left to do, so I decided that I would update... myself... on my own life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One morning I went walking through the kitchen, my mom and I were still in our pj's, and I stopped and just said to her, "I think I want to go to CMU." At the time I really didn't have any particular reason for wanting to go, besides the fact that Ellie is going, and my cousin already goes there. I'm ready to get away from this city, and I'm ready to try it on my own. I finally decided to look into advertising and marketing that is tied into their Journalism program. I think I can do it... I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hope &lt;/span&gt;I can do it. I guess time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie and I are planning on rooming with each other. I sometimes wonder if this is the right idea or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;College is going to be a new experience. I'm looking forward to it more and more each day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-6212667781706572886?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/6212667781706572886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=6212667781706572886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6212667781706572886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6212667781706572886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/02/high-hopes.html' title='High Hopes.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-2427380310575366893</id><published>2008-02-15T15:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T15:47:09.728-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='And the point is....?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Becoming Jane</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Today in a fit of boredom, and sudden need for romance I found myself watching “Becoming Jane,” with Anne Hathaway and the ever attractive James McAvoy. There was one part in the movie that really stuck out the most to me, and I found myself thinking it over. Jane and Tom return to his uncle’s estate in an attempt to show him how eligible she was. While they are there, they visit the authoress, Ann Radcliffe, who is known for some of her novels. The beginning of the conversation between Jane and Ann caught my attention:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“You live so quietly and yet your novels are filled with romance; danger; terror.”-Jane&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Everything my life is not.”-Ann&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;How many authors’ write stories and novels of things they do not know, or don’t quite understand? Hasn’t it always been said that one should write of what they know? Yet many do not write as such. Maybe the best writing is not writing what one may know, but of the things they want to know. Writing about adventures, terror and danger one may never come across, and the heart pounding passion one only wishes they could feel. Is that what sells books? Reading about the life of another; to maybe get a small bit of what they’re feeling? Taking in everything author and reader alike do not know or understand.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-2427380310575366893?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/2427380310575366893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=2427380310575366893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/2427380310575366893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/2427380310575366893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/02/becoming-jane.html' title='Becoming Jane'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-8895990613705077762</id><published>2008-02-05T14:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T14:51:04.248-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love is Evil'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How about.. an update?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Highschool... Still?'/><title type='text'>Stupid attractive jerk!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;We're in the home stretch now, and I can see the checkered flag at the end. Four more month, and that's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; I suddenly find myself looking forward to so much: My 18th birthday, Spring Break, Graduation, and summer! I've just got to get through career center without going completely crazy, and attempts to go to English every once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;JUST FOUR MORE MONTHS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lent is coming up, and Ellie is trying to get me to give up something. Her and Chels are giving up sweets, and wanted me to do it as well. YEAH RIGHT! I have monthly &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;needs &lt;/span&gt;for certain sweets. There is NO WAY I will be giving those up! I thought about giving up swearing, because that's really the only thing I do a lot. I guess we will see how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So once again I find myself completely infatuated with a guy. I told myself I wasn't going to get involved with anyone because I might be going off to college next year. But leave it to me to get completely hung up on him. He's practically everything I didn't want, too. AND HE'S SHORT! But he's so much more manly than any guy I've ever met. He is such a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;jerk &lt;/span&gt;sometimes, but can always make me laugh. He argues with me, and makes me smile. Ironically, I was reading one of my other posts and found this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;"There was a boy. I was probably more interested in the idea of finally having a boyfriend, but the more I started to know him, the more I was not interested. At all. Sure he's a really nice guy... but he's TOO nice. He doesn't get what I'm saying, and he never knows what to say to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;Make me laugh! Argue back! Be a jerk sometimes! Is that so much to ask&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;man... I'm in a pickle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-8895990613705077762?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/8895990613705077762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=8895990613705077762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8895990613705077762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8895990613705077762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/02/stupid-attractive-jerk.html' title='Stupid attractive jerk!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-524945841353425042</id><published>2008-01-27T16:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T16:19:14.619-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How about.. an update?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Highschool... Still?'/><title type='text'>126 Days to Figure it Out.</title><content type='html'>Why are some decisions so hard to make? There are times I feel like I could sit forever and never actually be able to come up with an answer. It's those things you try to put into the back of your head, but emerge every peaceful second you're able to grasp. I got accepted in Central Michigan University, the only college I actually applied to, with a three year scholarship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now comes the real question: what do I want to be when I grow up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst possible question that does nothing but tease every fragment of your being until you can no longer take it. I remember that question being asked to me over a hundred times; each answer always seemed to be different. I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;don't know&lt;/span&gt; what I want to be. I can now honestly say it's beginning to eat me up inside. I'm afraid to end, and I'm afraid to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What’s this feeling that lies in my heart?&lt;br /&gt;It rips and tears; trying to pull me apart.&lt;br /&gt;I want peace, and I want rest,&lt;br /&gt;So leave me be for I know what’s best.&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Trying to follow what others say,&lt;br /&gt;Even though I need to find my own way.&lt;br /&gt;Where am I to go after this?&lt;br /&gt;A heavy question that causes my distress.&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Close my eyes and hold my head up high,&lt;br /&gt;Take a deep breath and see passed the lie.&lt;br /&gt;I know there is a path that leads me there,&lt;br /&gt;But it remains hidden from my ever pleading stare.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-524945841353425042?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/524945841353425042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=524945841353425042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/524945841353425042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/524945841353425042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2008/01/126-day-to-figure-it-out.html' title='126 Days to Figure it Out.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-695002817908366111</id><published>2007-12-12T17:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T17:59:51.770-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Snow day please.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day 12 of 25 days of Christmas.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>No Smiles for Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;I don't think today could have gone any worse. It began this morning around 5 am, when my alarm went off for another early morning at clinical. It was a lot harder for me to get up this morning because, not only was I extremely exhausted, but I just did not want to go to clinical. I dragged myself out of bed, and got ready in time to leave at 5:45 so I could go pick up Brandi. We drove to the clinic and arrived around 6:15. Upon arriving, I realized I did not remember to grab my name tag off my desk at home. Shit. Without a name tag in the facility, I was not able to participate, and found myself sitting in my car. The black of my mascara had already begun streaming down my face as wave after wave of tears continued to hit me. Lucky me, I got to go to class instead, to face the classmates that already know I’m a failure.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;I got home and walked in the door, running straight into my dad. “Happy Birthday…” I said, not even realizing how bad I actually looked. What a way to celebrate one’s birthday, eh? I changed, and dragged myself to school. I guess it didn’t really help that the entire way there I was hoping to find a patch of black ice and spin out of control, just so I didn’t have to go. When we got there, all anyone could do was stare. I was mortified. I felt like an idiot. Too bad when I got &lt;i style=""&gt;there&lt;/i&gt; I realized I had forgotten my skill book, meaning I couldn’t check off on any skills. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;The rest of the day went by normal, since I had no choice but to be happy. It sucks when the serotonin in your brain has to be produced by a little pill, because your brain is too incompetent to do so itself. In the middle of my 4&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; hour, I got a call from the place I applied for a job to yesterday. Got out in 5&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; hour, and set up an interview with him. It went alright. I don’t think I got the job though, mainly because someone apparently thinks my day hasn’t been bad enough. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;So here I am, sitting in my room avoiding the world—At least for another hour or so until Jessica gets off work and we can go out to dinner. I still don’t know what to get her for Christmas… or my brother, Eric, for that matter. Christmas really does suck. It sucks in the sense that it is no longer a family holiday—it’s a holiday for the spoiled and greedy. It’s the time of the year when one can ask for anything they want, and not look like a brat. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Merry Christmas… Here’s an empty bank account, a mild case of depression, a life changing decision, and a candy cane… Oh wait… I already ate that. My bad. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-695002817908366111?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/695002817908366111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=695002817908366111' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/695002817908366111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/695002817908366111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/12/no-smiles-for-christmas.html' title='No Smiles for Christmas'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-5115049176738004370</id><published>2007-12-09T20:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T20:13:06.548-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Ideal Mate Paper</title><content type='html'>This is my 'Ideal Mate' essay for Psychology. Felt the need to post it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Throughout one's entire life, it seems as though they are constantly searching for that perfect soul mate. Does that perfect soul mate actually exist?  I believe love doesn't just happen; love is something that has to be created and worked on. I do think it is wise to look for specific things in a mate, because Cinderella love does not happen.&lt;br /&gt;    In a mate I would look for someone who I can rely on. I have gone though many situations where that did not happen. I also need someone who is going to be trustworthy and honest. Being able to talk about all things is what makes the relationship stronger. I would also need a guy who is outgoing and open. I need someone who is going to laugh with me, instead of looking down his nose with a raised brow.&lt;br /&gt;    Another large factor in relationships is how both view the subject of religion. In an ideal situation, both people would practice the same religion, or no religion at all. In my case, my ideal mate would not practice a religion. I have never been interested, or believed, in religion. I feel as though in my life as it is now, I will make decisions on my own; I will not be told how to live my life, and what to believe in by a group of people who practice life from a book. If he were religious I would feel as though he would be preaching to me; looking down upon me and my sins.&lt;br /&gt;    I believe in a relationship there has to be some type of physical attraction. In my ideal mate, I would look for someone who is strong and handsome. Although in long lasting marriages, the female is older; I would like the guy to be older than me. I do request, though, that he be tall and have straight teeth. It has always just been a little requirement of mine.&lt;br /&gt;    Most times a divorce happens due to issues with money. I plan to get through college and hold a stable career. I think it is very important to be able to support one's self first. In an ideal mate I would look for someone who has career goals. It is very important to always want the best out of all things one would decide to do in his or her life.&lt;br /&gt;    Every girl dreams of her handsome prince charming at one point or another. Clitche is it not? I know I will never get a Cinderella dream, but there will be someone out there that will treat me right. Everyone has a soul mate somewhere, but it's up to them to decide if they want to work through the obstacles or not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-5115049176738004370?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/5115049176738004370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=5115049176738004370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5115049176738004370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5115049176738004370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/12/ideal-mate-paper.html' title='Ideal Mate Paper'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-4522015857576395771</id><published>2007-12-09T18:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T19:08:22.442-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Snow day please.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How about.. an update?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Highschool... Still?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Taste of Life</title><content type='html'>The last year of high school really is quite stressful, when you have no idea what you're going to do once it's over. I'm on the fence, yet again, weighing my slim options. Journalism? Nursing? ...Journalism? ...Nursing? Ellie continues to inform me that I do not need to actually pick my major until my second year... but still. How did it end up like this? I was the one in my class that knew what I wanted to do before everyone else and now, six months before we graduate, I have absolutely no direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No money. No plan. No direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told my parents I was thinking about going to Central Michigan University to study journalism. Mom told me it was my decision; a hidden look of disappointment was in her eyes. Dad basically flat out told me he didn't think it was a good idea. It's painful when your parents don't trust you to make an important decision about life. He wanted to have a "heart to heart" talk, which always consists of his own heart speaking. When I put in my heart, it's just "attitude."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom later told me it was because he doesn't want me moving away. I'm his little girl, and he wants me close by. Ellie told me he will eventually have to let go, just as her dad did. That makes me feel even worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Central Michigan for journalism?&lt;br /&gt;Lansing Community College for nursing?&lt;br /&gt;Michigan State University?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I didn't have to pick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="std_font"&gt; Maybe light a candle&lt;br /&gt;Don't say a prayer for me&lt;br /&gt;Feel alone&lt;br /&gt;Cause I'm gone&lt;br /&gt;I left you&lt;br /&gt;Make Christmas your own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-4522015857576395771?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/4522015857576395771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=4522015857576395771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4522015857576395771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4522015857576395771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/12/taste-of-life.html' title='Taste of Life'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-4177432693088232202</id><published>2007-11-05T19:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T20:02:27.087-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How about.. an update?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Highschool... Still?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Butterflies-in-the-stomach amazing.</title><content type='html'>It's already November; senior year is flying by. A lot has happened in the last month, more than I think is even possible to type in the next hour and a half. So let me hit the main parts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost, what used to be, my best friend, which turned out to be a rather... abhorrent ordeal. I can't say that I'm completely over it, and that's probably the difference in the two of us. I sometimes think about it, and wonder if it was worth saving. I guess it's better off that we aren't friends, because one thing that she did say to me was slightly correct. I am... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; unstable. I was unstable because when it came to her I always felt lowly. In the one and a million chance that she were to read this, I honestly don't know what her reaction would be. Who cares if she tells all her new friends my feelings. Like I even said to her: she was my best friend. I still care about her, and wish the best for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that this generation gets to deal with all those once in a lifetime things. For example, little Billtown finally got hit with a tornado. In all the years this town has been here, not once has it been hit; always being mercy d. It destroyed our town, our park, and people's homes. Our power was out for 24 hours, and I played board games with my older brother and Ellie. How lame. I guess the only good thing was we got school off for two days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Class of 2008 only has six more months until graduation. I was just informed this about two seconds ago in a text message, and I got butterflies in my stomach. I remember being so ready to graduate and get the hell out of there, but now when I think about it I get rather nervous. I'm afraid to leave my friends, what I know, the same people that have always been there, and things just being the same. The everyday drama doesn't seem so dramatic, and what we're going to do on a Friday night, doesn't seem like such an impossible decision. No more big group trick-or-treating, no more late night excursions to campus, and no more obnoxious Saturday nights when its all you can do to stop laughing. I'm going to miss it, all of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'm quite ready to leave yet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-4177432693088232202?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/4177432693088232202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=4177432693088232202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4177432693088232202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4177432693088232202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/11/butterflies-in-stomach-amazing.html' title='Butterflies-in-the-stomach amazing.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-7850407548387177816</id><published>2007-10-09T20:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T20:15:10.887-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Highschool... Still?'/><title type='text'>Dreaming..</title><content type='html'>Today after school Jessica and I went to the World Market, because she wanted &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;some&lt;/span&gt; type of tea. We were walking around in there, and for some reason I was thinking we're shopping for our apartment. I got really excited over the fact that someday soon I will be able to do that, and it made me realize how &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ready&lt;/span&gt; I actually am to be done with high school. I can't wait to get a real job, and start college, and move out into an apartment with a new roommate, or even a close friend. Even though apartments cost money, as well as furniture and such, which is something I don't exactly have. It's a dream; a dream that I cannot wait until it comes true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to be a damn good nurse.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to be a master baker, along side of my SISTAAH, Jessica, who will be an amazing chef.&lt;br /&gt;We are going to open up our own restaurant one day, and it's going to be incredible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What fun is it to live in a world where you can't dream up the things you want? I have my dreams, and I'm ready for them to come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-7850407548387177816?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/7850407548387177816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=7850407548387177816' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7850407548387177816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7850407548387177816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/10/today-after-school-jessica-and-i-went.html' title='Dreaming..'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-1638080036214090735</id><published>2007-10-08T20:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T21:09:57.682-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How about.. an update?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Case of the Mondays</title><content type='html'>How is it that school always seems to have that upper hand in determining ones mood? Could it be that we're forced within the same walls for eight hours a day, five days a week? The fact that we get massive amounts of homework, that make it seem as though we should have never even left the building to begin with? Or that even the slightest mistake on our part automatically lowers our academic worth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while it all just becomes too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally decided to update, even though now I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really  &lt;/span&gt;know that no one reads this. We're about 7 weeks into school, and I've already had my fill for the year. I have career center in the morning, and that was going really well for the first couple of weeks. I was elected the HOSA president for our class, and I was doing really well on all the tests and keeping up. Eventually the work began to pile up, and I was struggling to keep up. I failed my first test, and since then I am now one to be singled out, critiqued more than most, and treated as though I'm a 10 year old running around with a knife. I went from absolutely love the class, to dreading it every morning once again. It's like last year is playing out before me once again, only this time we don't even have the witch to cackle her two cents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a boy. I was probably more interested in the idea of finally having a boyfriend, but the more I started to know him, the more I was not interested. At all. Sure he's a really nice guy... but he's TOO nice. He doesn't get what I'm saying, and he never knows what to say to me. Make me laugh! Argue back! Be a jerk sometimes! Is that so much to ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ready for another long year...&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; There are no guarantees in life &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Not for the present, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Nor for the future. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; All I know is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; That I'm here; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't know for how long. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I love the way &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You live so intensely &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Enjoy every minute of life &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; With space to swing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Your arms around &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Laughing loudly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Unlike me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The past, the present, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And the future, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Are all side by side, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Hand in hand. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You move and change, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Yet you go nowhere: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Everything stays the same. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You stare at me, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And ask me questions, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Makes me nervous, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; This room it keeps a constant tone &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; While I'm on a roller coaster &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-1638080036214090735?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/1638080036214090735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=1638080036214090735' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1638080036214090735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1638080036214090735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/10/case-of-mondays.html' title='Case of the Mondays'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-8949211881470192974</id><published>2007-09-03T01:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T01:41:34.009-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>What a wonderful Sunday.</title><content type='html'>Got woken up at 11.&lt;br /&gt;Went to get Panda with Matt.&lt;br /&gt;Panda was closed...&lt;br /&gt;Ate off brand Panda.&lt;br /&gt;Figured out the lives of every person that passed.&lt;br /&gt;Got home, and ran right back out the door.&lt;br /&gt;Went to the wrong house to get Kerry.&lt;br /&gt;Tried again.&lt;br /&gt;Winner.&lt;br /&gt;Drove to the game.&lt;br /&gt;Pack muled everything in.&lt;br /&gt;Shucked corn.&lt;br /&gt;Had fun.&lt;br /&gt;Hung out.&lt;br /&gt;Flirted with #18.&lt;br /&gt;Got a scolding glare from Tom for flirting.&lt;br /&gt;Got a sunburn.&lt;br /&gt;Game CONTINUED.&lt;br /&gt;Extra innings.&lt;br /&gt;More extra innings.&lt;br /&gt;Got into a fight.&lt;br /&gt;Decided to leave.&lt;br /&gt;Drove home and almost got into an accident.&lt;br /&gt;Ruined dinner out with my brother and mom.&lt;br /&gt;Ruined the rest of the night.&lt;br /&gt;Heard everything I missed.&lt;br /&gt;Confidence anyone?&lt;br /&gt;Put myself into a depressed hole.&lt;br /&gt;Am currently sitting in a depressed hole.&lt;br /&gt;Am going to CONTINUE sitting in a depressed hole.&lt;br /&gt;Because I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a long day I ended with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off brand Chinese food, a terrible sun burn, low confidence, an empty gas tank, tears, and a migraine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds like a glorious Sunday to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-8949211881470192974?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/8949211881470192974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=8949211881470192974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8949211881470192974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8949211881470192974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/09/what-wonderful-sunday.html' title='What a wonderful Sunday.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-895108598464551989</id><published>2007-08-25T17:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-25T17:17:45.488-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>----------------- Original Message -----------------&lt;br /&gt;From: Hilary&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date: Aug 25, 2007 12:03 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't actually know if you go through your messages, or reply to all of them but I thought I would give it a try. I remember reading your article in Figure magazine, and thought, "Wow, she really DOES accept who she is." It amazes me, and practically everyday I find myself wishing I had the confidence you do. But, as things turn out... I don't. Have you ever felt like you were being overshadowed, or pushed to the background by your friends or family? I constantly feel like that, and I've found I bury myself into this hole. I'm TIRED of feeling like I'm worthless, and I'm TIRED of feeling like I'm never good enough. I HATE having such a high then dropping to an all time low. I know you've said you don't really know how you have the confidence you do, but I don't know, you're a big role model for me and I was just wondering if you've ever had this type of problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for being such a great person, and role model!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hilary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------- Original Message -----------------&lt;br /&gt;From: Mia Tyler&lt;br /&gt;Date: Aug 25, 2007 11:34 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this has to start from within... You kind of need a reason... Like when I was younger and I was in a bad place, I thought of my little sister and how sad her face would be if anything bad happened to me. You need to find your reason, learn to let go and live your life the best you can. And screw what others think. If you feel like you are being pushed into the shadows by others then maybe its your confidence thats keeping you back. Why on earth would a beautiful girl like yourself feel un-important? You seem like you have so much to offer people. And if the people around you dont appreciate you then find new people who do!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's my role model!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-895108598464551989?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/895108598464551989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=895108598464551989' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/895108598464551989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/895108598464551989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/08/original-message-from-hilary-date-aug.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-6173611668982466374</id><published>2007-08-21T16:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T17:06:21.133-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Everything was so much easier when we didn't have a care in the world. Our only problems would be if there was enough cheese in the fridge to make nachos for lunch, or if we used it all up the day before."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are already starting to change, starting that transition from summer freedom back to educational solitude. I know this for the fact that I'm getting those phone calls, and those messages, from everyone in an attempt to hang out or get together. Guess I should start putting in a little bit of effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went over to Brie's house last night, after we hung out the entire day, and spent the night there. I figured I haven't seen her basically all summer, and wanted to spend some time with her. It wasn't as though it was awkward or anything, but there was just something off. It wasn't how it always used to be; there was some type of unspoken question of thought on both of our minds. We ended up getting into one of those in depth conversations that last for hours, and you don't even realize that the time has passed so quickly. I found out a lot of things. Things that completely surprised me, and others that didn't in the slightest bit. But in the end every single one made me feel worse and worse about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep feeling like I've put myself into this hole. I constantly feel terrible about myself, and keep running myself down. I've cried more now, than I have in my entire life. I don't know where it suddenly came from. I was fine. Or at least I thought I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Could I change one thing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Could I change your mind?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shall we burn it just like the last time?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I can't change a thing, can't explain why I never felt it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Not even the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Ciao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-6173611668982466374?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/6173611668982466374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=6173611668982466374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6173611668982466374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6173611668982466374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/08/everything-was-so-much-easier-when-we.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-6540408830025912782</id><published>2007-08-18T12:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T13:29:09.192-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer Tiiiiiimmmmme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How about.. an update?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lugnuts'/><title type='text'>Making Memories</title><content type='html'>Have you ever just sat down, listened, and heard nothing before? I just did that right now. Today there is nothing going on. No where to be. No one to make happy. Today is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my &lt;/span&gt;day to sit and think, and be as LAZY as I want to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my last day at work last Thursday, but I found I really didn't want it to end. We had formed a close group of friends in the short amount of time we worked there, and it was kind of hard leaving knowing I wasn't going to see them until possibly next year. I'm also glad it ended, not for the fact that now &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;once again&lt;/span&gt; I have to find another job, but I get three weeks to myself, and to the friends I haven't seen over this entire summer break, and to focus on the last games of the season. It should be a good last three weeks, until my last year of high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SPEAKING OF MY LAST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL! I went and got my senior pictures done a week ago. I really wasn't looking forward to it, but my mom, Jess and I all went out to Khols and got some really cute outfits. We got there, and my photographer, Kendra, was a real sweetheart. We had a ton of fun shooting the pictures. I'm excited to see how they turned out, I really hope there were some good ones in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know&lt;/span&gt; is going to be different. I know I say that every time a new year rolls around, but this time I can practically feel it. At the career center we are going to be doing on site training, and learning skills and such. I'm so excited about doing that, and that's what I can't wait to get back to. Plus I am going to be a Teen Volunteer at Sparrow Hospital! I signed up last April-ish and I got a call about a month ago. I went in for an interview yesterday afternoon, and NAILED IT! I signed up in Radiology, and I can't wait to start. I'm a little worried though, just because when I first start things my head always seems to be spinning out of control, and I can't retain the information that well. Things will work out though. They always seem to. I don't have a start date yet though, but I will be going in every Thursday. I feel like I'm just one step closer to that goal I'm trying to reach, and it makes me feel great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kerry and I are now members of the Lansing Lugnuts Booster Club! We signed up early August, and so far it's been a blast! We've met a lot of really great people, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; look forward to seeing them at all the games. We are slowly working our way into talking with some of the guys, but coming in this late in the season makes it a little hard (or that's my opinion about it). It's going to be sad when the season ends, not only because this has been a huge part of our lives this whole summer, but we won't get to see all the new friends we've made. We are really excited about starting next season, for the fact that we will be there from the beginning. The guys will be younger and closer to our age which will be a lot of fun for us. Plus in that one in a million chance that everything works out, we might have an apartment somewhere close to Downtown Lansing. Closer to the hospital for me, LCC for both of us, as well as the stadium. Think of the gas we will save!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are currently the only two teenagers in the Booster Club, and you can tell by some of the things they do. There need to be some changes, and I don't know why none of them thought about some of the things I'm noticing need a change. Good thing I know the new president from when I was younger! It also helps that his wife likes us! We're totally in. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright well I guess I'm done now. So much for having nothing to do today, I have to go take food out to Will. Oh well. Haven't seen him in forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and by the way... Did you know on the Monster energy drinks, they have the monster M on the tab? I never knew that! Just thought I would share that with you since I noticed it just now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get it. Done!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-6540408830025912782?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/6540408830025912782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=6540408830025912782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6540408830025912782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6540408830025912782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/08/making-memories.html' title='Making Memories'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-6071143911855676141</id><published>2007-08-08T22:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T22:09:18.485-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Things to do in the next three years:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Finish senior year of HS&lt;br /&gt;-Finish top of my class at Career Center&lt;br /&gt;-Live to my 18th birthday&lt;br /&gt;-Don't spend $2k given to me on 18th birthday&lt;br /&gt;-Get as many scholarships as possible to LCC&lt;br /&gt;-Get into Nursing program at LCC&lt;br /&gt;-Move out... with friend AND/OR new roommate... ANYONE... JUST NOT HERE...&lt;br /&gt;-Get a job at Sparrow Hospital while working on RN degree&lt;br /&gt;-Finish RN degree in 3 years&lt;br /&gt;-Live happily ever after...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Find a man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds good to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-6071143911855676141?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/6071143911855676141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=6071143911855676141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6071143911855676141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6071143911855676141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-to-do-in-next-three-years-finish.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-6417856815544127481</id><published>2007-07-29T22:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T22:36:42.597-04:00</updated><title type='text'>RIP Julie</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id="254" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(74, 158, 0);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; &lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;color:#000080;"&gt;THOSE THAT SPEAK WILL BE HEARD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="255" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(74, 158, 0);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; &lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;color:#000080;"&gt;THOSE THAT KNOCK THE DOOR WILL BE OPENED&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="258" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(74, 158, 0);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; &lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;color:#000080;"&gt;THOSE THAT SEEK WILL FIND&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div id="256" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(74, 158, 0);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;color:#000080;"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div id="257" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(74, 158, 0);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; &lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;color:#000080;"&gt;rubbish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's slightly ironic that on the same day I was dragged to church by my grandparents-- thinking it was the biggest crock of shit, ends up being the same day I prayed to the Lord walking home in tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A member of our neighborhood was taken and murdered this weekend. Leaving behind 3 baby girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our neighborhood planned a candle lighting in her memory this evening; lighting the streets with their flames. The entire street came, and everyone lit their candles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was heart wrenching to see those three girls. My heart was breaking just hearing their sobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard for them now, but it will only get worse before it gets better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on the way home, I prayed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said to Him:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgive me for what I said earlier.&lt;br /&gt;Forgive me for my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;Please, help the family.&lt;br /&gt;Give them the strength to get through this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; I'm seeking, please let me find.&lt;br /&gt;I'm knocking, please open the door.&lt;br /&gt;I'm speaking for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;once in my life&lt;/span&gt;, please let it be heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RIP Julie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-6417856815544127481?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/6417856815544127481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=6417856815544127481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6417856815544127481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6417856815544127481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/07/rip-julie.html' title='RIP Julie'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-7921845802966409642</id><published>2007-07-23T17:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T17:24:23.632-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer Tiiiiiimmmmme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lugnuts'/><title type='text'>Overload</title><content type='html'>Overload.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is just too much going on, and I can't decide if it's too little time or too much time before it continues. Now we're just stuck here-- to wait-- to think. At first I thought this was a good idea, but now I'm not so sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens if they reject us? Then we would just look like morons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it possible for anything to come out of this? Friendship? More? I hope so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;afraid&lt;/span&gt; to go back and find out. The last time all I could remember was panicking. Even when I try to think back to it I feel that same type of panic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want them to get the wrong idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's not what we're there for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week to think it over-- before I make a decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing's happen for a reason right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm waiting to see my reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps.. The thing's you're most afraid of are always the most worth while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-7921845802966409642?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/7921845802966409642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=7921845802966409642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7921845802966409642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7921845802966409642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/07/overload.html' title='Overload'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-5167072529715378143</id><published>2007-07-14T14:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-14T14:06:28.741-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer Tiiiiiimmmmme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Friday the 13th</title><content type='html'>Have you ever felt like you just get shafted on everything, your whole life? That’s how I’m beginning to feel. In my job, at school, the things I do, the things I want to do. Shafted.  Then there are always those people that seem to get everything they always wanted. The looks, the money, the people, the attention. How modest they always are when things seem to be going so well for them. Good for them, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night was common ground, and I woke up that morning not even the slightest big excited. Brie, Jessica and I were suppose to go see Buckcherry, Papa Roach, and Hinder. The Bad Ass rock tour– its first night. I had paid for all three tickets, and Brie paid me for hers but I told Jessica not to worry about hers because of the gym membership. In the beginning I was thinking it was going to be Brie to cause the first couple of problems, but it was me that wanted to smack a couple of bitches around. What a waste though, honestly. I find out Jess didn’t actually know who the bands were, and then she had the nerve to call my music shitty and bad. Well that’s good, because she some of her music from me in the first place. So I was pissy before we even left the house, and we stopped to see John before we went into Lansing. Waited around while she talked to him, and eventually got out of there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got to the Lansing center about an hour and a half before gates opened, and just hung out. We talked to the people around us and just had a good time. Rushed the stage and saw Beckie, Emily and Allie there. The Exies got up on stage and sounded good. Jessica eventually said she started to feel sick from the bass. ...? Ok. So she left us there to go watch The Who on the other stage. I got a text from her saying she was leaving to go get food, and she would be back to pick us up later. Whatever. Buckcherry came out, and they were amazing. Papa Roach came out and a mosh pit started. Brie and I were stuck in the middle of it. We practically got crushed. Hinder came out. They were also amazing. They threw their alcohol cups at us, and I got some on my lip haha and it was good. Show got over and everyone started to leave. I almost got into a fight with a security guard because he was being an asshole to me. Found Jessica after the 8 mile walk to the car. Went home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Found out some stuff.&lt;br /&gt;Felt disgusted.&lt;br /&gt;Lied to.&lt;br /&gt;Annoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would think after 3 or 4 years of being friends, she would realize I’m more than just a funny person. Not everything is a joke to me, and I thought HER of all people would know that. She thought I would just laugh at it because, “Well you’re Hilary!” That’s what hurt me the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take things to heart too, you know. Things affect me more than anyone realizes, and I don’t forget either. I told her not to close me out, but I’d almost rather she did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for Chicago with my big sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-5167072529715378143?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/5167072529715378143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=5167072529715378143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5167072529715378143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5167072529715378143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/07/friday-13th.html' title='Friday the 13th'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-9109411212811031615</id><published>2007-06-16T23:22:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T23:37:55.512-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>People Change</title><content type='html'>What makes somebody a good person?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found myself asking that tonight when I met up with some old friends. It's amazing how quickly these people, you used to love to be around, change and turn into the kind of people you wouldn't like. I find myself turned away from the ones who cuss and swear a lot, and those that go out and get trashed everynight. Those that have sex, just because it's being offered to them even though they know it will ruin a friendship. I guess that makes me a bit of a hypocrite. Sure I cuss a lot, more than I would like, and I like to have an occasional drink. I don't really understand why you would use one of your friends just to satisfy one night of lust. One night stands are wrong in my opinion. People say sex isn't a big deal, but it is in my mind. Have some respect for yourself. I  suppose it doesn't really mean much coming from the forever virgin. That's just me though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm dressed all in blue &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                       And I'm remembering you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                       And how you dressed that night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                       When you broke my heart &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                        I'm gonna be lonely for the rest of my life &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                       Unless you come around &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                       So come around &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;It kind of makes me wish people never changed. I miss what we all used to have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to grow up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Ciao&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-9109411212811031615?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/9109411212811031615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=9109411212811031615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/9109411212811031615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/9109411212811031615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/06/people-change.html' title='People Change'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-4937434537438005432</id><published>2007-06-14T18:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-14T19:24:59.648-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer Tiiiiiimmmmme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lugnuts'/><title type='text'>Summer :]</title><content type='html'>HAPPY SUMMER TIME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Topics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My new job&lt;br /&gt;2. Lugnut season&lt;br /&gt;3. Summer plans!&lt;br /&gt;4. Anything else I feel like typing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I started my new job this Monday, and so far I absolutely love it. I'm working in Holmes Hall on MSU campus, and it's pretty much the sweetest job I've ever had. They put me on room crew, and we go around and make sure the rooms are clean and have bedding and such for conferences.  At first I was really nervous about going, mainly because I had to do the whole "Like me!" thing all over agian. It wasn't bad at all, which surpsied me the most. I've met a lot of awesome people, and the highschoolers really stick together. One thing that really bothers me is our supervisors have made the college kids into babysitters for all of us. Sure I understand we are a liability, but the college students are too. I guess it's because I've work a number of other jobs, and am used to being around older people. I don't need a 23 year old hovering over me, and wiping my nose. Just hand me the damn kleenex I can do it myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My crew is really awesome though. In the morning all the crews go to a room, and are told what to do by their crew leaders. Our crew always goes up to the 6th floor, in complete silence. I don't do well in silence, and being the awkward person I am have to try not to start laughing. All these people have gotten so comfortable with each other, that silence is a really big part of this job. I don't know how many times we've found ourselves sitting in the hallway in complete silence. ITS SO AWKWARD! But I'm getting used to it. Slowly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kerry and I have been going to most of the home Lugnut games. They're really entertaining, and we always look forward to going. Not only do we get to scream and be obnoxious, but we can harass practically anyone we want without getting attacked. Example: Rojo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"ROOOOJOOOOOO! DID YOU KNOW YOUR NAME MEANS RED IN SPANISH?!"&lt;br /&gt;"IT'S OVER ROJO! AND FOR THE RECORD! I ENDED IT!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's fun making all the people at the game, and even the players laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT THIRSTY THURSDAYS are scary :[&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer is going to be so sweet! On Sunday I'm going to Michigan Adventure with Kerry. Lots of Lugnut games. My sweet job, with a few attractive guys. Wisconsin in a week FOR a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about it. Kind of hard to type and listen to the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY SUMMER EVERYONE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw-- GO GET A JOB YOU LAZY BASTARDS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao :]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-4937434537438005432?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/4937434537438005432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=4937434537438005432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4937434537438005432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4937434537438005432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/06/summer.html' title='Summer :]'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-102453538555419656</id><published>2007-05-13T17:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T18:06:20.524-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lugnuts'/><title type='text'>Not good enough for the truth.</title><content type='html'>Last night was the long awaited Birthuation-- and what a complete waste of time and energy that was. The original guest list was about 40 people, and would you like to know how many people &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; showed up? 12. 12 people showed up. Some of which were brought by the actual invited people. Are you fricking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kidding&lt;/span&gt; me? It was later I found out that majority of my "Friends" had bailed out on me for stupid reasons. "We went four wheeling," "We have a family thing (Even though I'm lying straight to your face and I don't want to show up because you made SHIRTS, for something that is yours and Kerry's to begin with, without us)," "I didn't know where you lived." Or the ones that showed up for a good ten minutes because they had their lover boys waiting for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well fuck you guys. Seriously. It's really an eye opener to who my real friends &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;aren't. &lt;/span&gt;Once highschool is over, you stupid fucking skanks, good ridence. Don't go about passing off the HPV and clap too quickly, and make sure your babie's daddies pay their child support on time each month because whoring can't support a family of 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What. A. Waste. Of. My. Time. Energy. And. LIFE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately Kerry and I have been hittin' up the lugnuts games. It's been pretty sweet actually, and people are beginning to expect us there. There have been a few games though, where &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;certain people&lt;/span&gt; have been trying to take my spot. Fags. Kerry and I made "&lt;3 Poe" shirts, and are going to start wearing them to all the games we go to. Oh and the lugnuts have some pretty hot man meat! At least they don't look like little league players.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kerry and Chris 4Lyfe. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't wait for Common Ground! Hinder! Buckcherry! And Papa Roach! It's gonna be sweet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao Bitches.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-102453538555419656?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/102453538555419656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=102453538555419656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/102453538555419656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/102453538555419656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/05/not-good-enough-for-truth.html' title='Not good enough for the truth.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-3217867065271226988</id><published>2007-05-08T20:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T20:17:29.419-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love is Evil'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Unwell</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;All day staring at the ceiling&lt;br /&gt;Making friends with shadows on my wall&lt;br /&gt;All night hearing voices telling me&lt;br /&gt;That I should get some sleep&lt;br /&gt;Because tomorrow might be good for something&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold on&lt;br /&gt;Feeling like Im headed for a breakdown&lt;br /&gt;And I dont know why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Im not crazy, Im just a little unwell&lt;br /&gt;I know right now you cant tell&lt;br /&gt;But stay awhile and maybe then youll see&lt;br /&gt;A different side of me&lt;br /&gt;Im not crazy, Im just a little impaired&lt;br /&gt;I know right now you dont care&lt;br /&gt;But soon enough youre gonna think of me&lt;br /&gt;And how I used to be...me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im talking to myself in public&lt;br /&gt;Dodging glances on the train&lt;br /&gt;And I know, I know they've all been talking about me&lt;br /&gt;I can hear them whisper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Out of all the hours thinking&lt;br /&gt;Somehow Ive lost my mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Once again I put myself out there and here I am again... crying over it. Well; not crying yet, but damn close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was doing everything right.&lt;br /&gt;I thought I might actually be worth someones time.&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was told that they're missing out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one's missing out. Right when things start looking up, everything falls back into place:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just the package deal... the one that takes up everybody's space and breathes all their air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-3217867065271226988?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/3217867065271226988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=3217867065271226988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/3217867065271226988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/3217867065271226988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/05/unwell.html' title='Unwell'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-8970133263104789489</id><published>2007-05-02T21:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-02T21:44:34.451-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How about.. an update?'/><title type='text'>The forecast reads: May BIRTHUATION!</title><content type='html'>Ok! Fine! I'll update!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me list everything that happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Went to HOSA states. Nate and I killed our baby. :[&lt;br /&gt;-Went to a lugnutz game with Kerry and Nikki.&lt;br /&gt;          *Johnny molested my eyes as he rubbed his ass&lt;br /&gt;           *Kerry became Poe's number one fan &lt;-- t-shirts?&lt;br /&gt;            *We met a big guy in green, his friend 'Makeawish,' and a few others&lt;br /&gt;            *They thought we were 21. WRONG.&lt;br /&gt;-Decided to actually start doing things in school&lt;br /&gt;-Wasted my days on a crappy job&lt;br /&gt;-Haven't had time to go to the gym&lt;br /&gt;-Self esteem dropped a lot&lt;br /&gt;-Got Leo to buy icecream&lt;br /&gt;-Rode Will for the first time since the move, and almost died&lt;br /&gt;            *Almost killed the cause of the almost death&lt;br /&gt;-Help put up poles for pastures at Jessica's house&lt;br /&gt;-Began planning a Birthuation for Kerry and I&lt;br /&gt;-Skipped school a lot&lt;br /&gt;-Had Saturday school due to skippage&lt;br /&gt;            *Got donuts and coloring books with Brie&lt;br /&gt;-Got my hair did. WEWT!&lt;br /&gt;-Sat here trying to remember what I did since the 12th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There ya go; my entire month of activities all neatly typed for your lovely eyes to read. Pretty sweet, yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So once again I find myself at the end of another suicidal person. How is it I always seem to be the one people go to for this? Do they not realize I'm not the best person to talk to about this? It makes me angry, mainly because they just sound so ridiculous and stupid when they try to make it sound like their life is probably the worst thing in the world. Get over it. Sure things get rough sometimes, and everyone has their moments but LISTEN to youself! YOU have the decision to either change your life piece by piece, which will take time, or sit and rot and just give up on everything. "Why bother?" Because you have people that care about you, and you're too stupid to realize that. What a waste, I think, to pull through for 20 years then to suddenly just call it quits. That's what I think is a loser; a failure. You're only a loser or a failure when you give up and give in. You have to fight for what you want out of life, but it's obvious he hasn't learned that yet. Nothing is handed to you-- where would be the fun in that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 17th birthday is in two days! YAAY! YAAYAYAYAYAAAY!! I will be able to drive after 12am WOOO! Even though my parents don't let me stay out that long anyway.. but.. WOO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kerry and I are planning a Birthuation-- a combination of my birthday and her graduation. So far we have about 40 people on the guest list, and we're trying to plan everything out. Planning parties is kind of hard, but I'm so excited for it. I really hope everything turns out well, and people have fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. Sleep time I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICOLE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-8970133263104789489?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/8970133263104789489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=8970133263104789489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8970133263104789489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8970133263104789489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/05/forecast-reads-may-birthuation.html' title='The forecast reads: May BIRTHUATION!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-312861765991385289</id><published>2007-04-12T20:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T21:10:04.023-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Bad Day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;b&gt;"Bad Day"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Where is the moment we needed the most&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; They tell me your blue skies fade to grey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; They tell me your passion's gone away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And I don't need no carryin' on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You stand in the line just to hit a new low&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You're faking a smile with the coffee to go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You tell me your life's been way off line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You're falling to pieces everytime&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And I don't need no carryin' on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Cause you had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You're taking one down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You sing a sad song just to turn it around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You say you don't know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You tell me don't lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You work at a smile and you go for a ride&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; The camera don't lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You're coming back down and you really don't mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Well you need a blue sky holiday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; The point is they laugh at what you say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And I don't need no carryin' on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You're taking one down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You sing a sad song just to turn it around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You say you don't know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You tell me don't lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You work at a smile and you go for a ride&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; The camera don't lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You're coming back down and you really don't mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; (Oh.. Holiday..)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Sometimes the system goes on the blink&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And the whole thing turns out wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You might not make it back and you know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; That you could be well oh that strong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And I'm not wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; So where is the passion when you need it the most&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Oh you and I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Cause you had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You're taking one down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You sing a sad song just to turn it around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You say you don't know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You tell me don't lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You work at a smile and you go for a ride&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You've seen what you like&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And how does it feel for one more time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You had a bad day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;I had a bad day, and I was singing this trying to feel better. It didn't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family won't talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;My dad thinks I do drugs.&lt;br /&gt;School sucks.&lt;br /&gt;My job sucks.&lt;br /&gt;Being selfish sucks.&lt;br /&gt;Being self conscious and jealous sucks.&lt;br /&gt;AND I STILL WANT TO SEE FRANK &gt;:[&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Maybe tomorrow will be better. Sleeping always makes everything better. A fresh start for a new day. A very mundane new day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How the anticipation is killing me already...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/9104717-312861765991385289?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/312861765991385289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=312861765991385289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/312861765991385289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/312861765991385289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/04/bad-day.html' title='Bad Day.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-950737126646745452</id><published>2007-04-03T20:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T21:08:56.934-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Why even bother anymore?</title><content type='html'>I hate how after a great day with one of my best friends, I let myself break down and turn into a wreck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I spent the day with Frannie, and we had an awesome time! I didn't realize how much I missed what we used to have, until we finally started to talk like we used to. I actually was kind of worried we wouldn't have anything to talk about, and things would turn awkward. It never did though. It kind of surprised me, to be honest. But, like Ellie, everytime I hang out with her I seem to... lose... my money. :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the thought about selling Nightingale has been swirling through my head lately. God, how I don't want to sell her... She was my first horse, and I love her so much. I'm not happy with her being in St. Johns, and I don't like where she is. Sure other horses do fine there, but I don't think she does. I don't LIKE her being out there and although she is turning 18 TOMORROW she still has so much left in her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the idea about selling Will came into my head. I don't even know what I was thinking when I bought him. Bottom line-- I'm an idiot. Everyone was right when they thought I wouldn't be able to train him. He's 6 years old and still can't canter with someone on his back. So what does that make me? A failure? Cause that's how I feel right now. A complete and utter FAILURE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way to go, Hilary. You screwed up what could-have-been a fantastic horse. Just another thing to add to the long list of failures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What really hurt me was when I told Jessica my thoughts. All she said was, "Do what you want." Maybe that really was just as simple as that. But, I read into it far more than I probably should have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm just going to throw in the towel. Why even bother anymore? I can't train a horse. If I joined a circuit, it would be a waste of money cause I wouldn't have a professional trainer-- So I would lose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't get over how much of a failure I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty much worthless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-950737126646745452?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/950737126646745452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=950737126646745452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/950737126646745452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/950737126646745452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/04/why-even-bother-anymore.html' title='Why even bother anymore?'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-8470599161073038341</id><published>2007-03-31T15:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T17:35:38.309-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>SB'07. Wasted.</title><content type='html'>Spring Break is finally here. F.I.N.A.L.L.Y.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the Chicago trip fell through, I don't know if I already posted that before, and I'm disappointed about it. Big time. I was really looking forward to it and I can't help but be slightly angry about it because that was suppose to be the big SB'07 trip. Now I don't get one-- for the 11th year in a row. Now I'm stuck home working, and taking care of Frannie's horses because they're out of town due to family issues. Not only that, but there won't be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;any&lt;/span&gt; warm weather for the entire week. I just &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; Michigan. Ellie invited me to her condo in Grand Haven, but I doubt I'm going to go. Unless Frannie and her parents get home, and if I actually feel well enough to go-- since her parents think I'm a bad influence on their daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why they're upset. It's not like she got Saturday School like Brie and I. At least we didn't rat her out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brie invited me up north to her grandparents house, but with it being cold I would actually have to socialize with her grandparents since it's too cold to swim. They hate me too. God. So much hate towards me. I always thought I was a nice person. It's not like I haven't been &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more than&lt;/span&gt; polite to them. Hags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND I DON'T WANT TO GO TO WORK FOR THE THIRD TIME TODAY &gt;:[&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like I'm going to be catching up on my romantic novel reading, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hot steamy book porn; here I come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-8470599161073038341?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/8470599161073038341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=8470599161073038341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8470599161073038341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8470599161073038341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/sb07-wasted.html' title='SB&apos;07. Wasted.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-4465651133401871122</id><published>2007-03-27T20:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-27T20:32:30.634-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love is Evil'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><title type='text'>Spring Time Fever.</title><content type='html'>Do I? Or don't I? How am I suppose to know? It's not like I'm experienced in this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;area&lt;/span&gt;. I don't know why he can be upset with me because I didn't know how to answer the question. It was just so out there and.... THERE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still can't help but think this is all a joke on me. He's toying with me because, yeah sure ok... I kinda like him. I keep trying to figure out if he's just dangling it on a rope infront of my face so at the last second he can take it away, or if it might be there? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Haha.. good one... &lt;/span&gt;I don't know if I trust him. It's hard to trust what you don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want it to be real, but how am I suppose to know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This weekend I was on top of the world.&lt;br /&gt;This day I can barely breathe&lt;br /&gt;as the water fills my lungs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a good day. Ellie, Brie and I decided it was too nice to go to school, inside, so we took it outside. Which first led us to breakfast, and then to the beach. We had a fabulous time, and I think it was the most fun I've had in a while. I'm really looking forward to Spring Break, and Summer. I love warm weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie and Brie got introuble though. I feel really bad because I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least we had fun. AND GOT SOME COLOR!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a pretty decent summer job which I am very excited for. I get $10 an hour to clean dorms. Matt laughed and told me to have fun picking up used condoms. I may just box one up and give it to him. WE'LL SEE WHO GETS THE LAST LAUGH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-4465651133401871122?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/4465651133401871122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=4465651133401871122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4465651133401871122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4465651133401871122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/spring-time-fever.html' title='Spring Time Fever.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-8836863292142396564</id><published>2007-03-26T06:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T07:03:21.164-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love is Evil'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Is this all just too good to be true?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm getting in over my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-8836863292142396564?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/8836863292142396564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=8836863292142396564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8836863292142396564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8836863292142396564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/is-this-all-just-too-good-to-be-true-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-1646535239837858205</id><published>2007-03-23T21:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T21:23:30.812-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How about.. an update?'/><title type='text'>He made me do it.</title><content type='html'>So today I had a relatively good day, but then suddenly all within a few hours is seems like it has gone down hill. I really hate that. Bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we didn't have Career Center, which pretty much blew my mind to say the least. I gave Kyle a ride home, but before we actually made it back to our street I saw that Matt was working at Subway, so decided to stop in and buy a sandwich. Being me, of course, didn't actually check if I had any money to buy a sub. Oops. Matt let me have it for free though, but I hate when I do that because I don't want him to feel like I'm taking advantage of him. It was a really good sub though, BUT I ATE IT WITH GUILT! Emily, and Brad both came in during the time we were there (not together though) so that was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eventually got Kyle home, and then drove home myslef and did nothing. At all. I didn't even have to change into pajamas because I had gone to school in what I wore to bed last night. Hey! I figured, I only have a half day, fuck yall! At least I was comfortable...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jessica called me later, in a complete panic. Apparently she had a check bounce, and MSU drained her accounts. I feel bad for her, but I really couldn't do much except just listen. I did give her $30 though, for the gym membership. That should help with a tiny bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met up at the gym soon after I got a call that was,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm on my way to the gym."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I thought you were going to the bank?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I already did. So now I'm going to the gym."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"BUT I THOUGHT WE WERE GOING LATER?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I had fun running around trying to get my stuff together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got to the gym, eventually, and got my ASS KICKED! It's only been three weeks since I've been there, but it feels like I'm starting back at square one! We saw a couple of sekC guys there, but too bad they were hella short. Damn my tallness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm just sitting at home, with my house full of people. Too many people. No privacy... Honestly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I didn't have to go to work tomorrow morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops. I just wasted my one wish on something ghey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Darn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-1646535239837858205?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/1646535239837858205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=1646535239837858205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1646535239837858205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1646535239837858205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/he-made-me-do-it.html' title='He made me do it.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-4804349401925895290</id><published>2007-03-22T17:50:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-22T18:02:29.256-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How about.. an update?'/><title type='text'>You mean, there really is a sun?</title><content type='html'>I was just wondering if today was Thursday, and it took me about 30 seconds to realize that it was. That's always a good sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week has seemed to drag, but also seemed to speed by. Does that make sense? We only have a week and one day until Spring Break, and guess what I get to do?! What's that? Did you say 'nothing?' Well. You're WRONG! Jessica and I are planning a trip to Chicago for three or so days, and then after getting back from there I will be off to see my grandparents. Two slightly amazing trips all packed into one little week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Spring Break, Mrs. Williams, from the career center, will be making her return on her broom stick followed by her entourage of evil monkeys. She came in to visit one day this week, and it took most of our self control to keep our jaws from dropping. I guess it was going to happen eventually, though, I mean it's not like a broken leg doesn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; heal. It creeped most of us out when she first said, "I'm baaaccck!" An involuntary shutter of despair, and from the horrible screechy voice, ran down my spine. I hope they decide to get rid of her after her contract expires, in three months. Our class was planning on TPing her house, in the middle of the night. 1000 rolls. It would be like Christmas all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I keep getting this urge to write, and I made Jessica resend me the story I had began. It really isn't that bad, now that I started reading on it again. I just don't know where to pick up from where I left off. I want to post it on Fictionpress.com, but I'm afraid too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half day tomorrow. Lucky me :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAY FOR SPRING! It is official as of yesterday. I think someone told Mother Nature that, because it's almost 70 outside. AND THERE REALLY IS A SUN! Delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-4804349401925895290?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/4804349401925895290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=4804349401925895290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4804349401925895290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4804349401925895290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/you-mean-there-really-is-sun.html' title='You mean, there really is a sun?'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-5723298321227810031</id><published>2007-03-15T19:41:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T19:41:30.097-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="width:300px;_height:250px; min-height:250px; background-color:rgb(216,233,237); text-align:center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;div style="background:rgb(129,172,201); height:4px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;img src="http://www.quizilla.com/images/blue_drk_corner1.gif" style="float: left" height="4" hspace="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;img src="http://www.quizilla.com/images/blue_drk_corner2.gif" style="float: right" height="4" hspace="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;div style="background:rgb(129,172,201); padding: 0pt 0pt 5px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;span style="font-size:12px; color:rgb(255,255,255); padding:3px; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What Is Your Role In A Relationship? (Male and Female, detailed results with Anime Pics!)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;div style="padding:5px; text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:Arial; background-color:rgb(216,233,237);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://tinypic.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i2.tinypic.com/t5soy1.jpg" border="0" alt="Image hosting by TinyPic" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;You are Insecure&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You often find it hard to believe you are worthy of the love and attention given to you by your partner, and always worry he/she could do much better than you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your insecurity sometimes leads you to pushing people away, or holding on too tightly. Either way, your relationships often end in tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you had your heart broken in the past, or have a low self-esteem - whatever the reasons are, you struggle to see what other people see in you. Some people will find this frustrating, but there will be someone out there who will delight in telling you just how fab you really are until you start to believe it yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Most compatible with:&lt;/b&gt; The Hopeless Romantic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Romantic will never tire of telling you how much they love you, and you will never tire of hearing it! You need someone who will give you constant reassurance, who will be prepared to make grand romantic gestures whenever you are feeling particularly insecure and will stand by you if you push or pull on them. The Romantic will do all these things and some, always making sure you know that you are the only one they could ever want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Least compatible with:&lt;/b&gt; The Free Spirit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Free Spirit won't ever show you their affection in ways obvious enough for you. You would feel constantly on edge as they flitted from one place to the next, not really caring if you followed or not. They would give you enough of a taste to tempt you, but none of the follow through and security you desire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your song is:&lt;/b&gt; Let That Be Enough, Switchfoot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://tinypic.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i2.tinypic.com/t5spcn.jpg" border="0" alt="Image hosting by TinyPic" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Take this &lt;a target="quizilla" style="color:rgb(128,0,128)" href="http://quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=17&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/users/occultmagic/quizzes/What+Is+Your+Role+In+A+Relationship%3F+%28Male+and+Female%2C+detailed+results+with+Anime+Pics%21%29"&gt;quiz&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=18&amp;amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/" target="quizilla"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.quizilla.com/images/codepastes/30qzlogo.gif" style="padding:2px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color:rgb(128,0,128);" target="quizilla" href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=18&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt; |&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color:rgb(128,0,128);" target="quizilla" href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=21&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/register"&gt;Join&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;| &lt;a style="color:rgb(128,0,128);" target="quizilla" href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=20&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/makeaquiz.php"&gt;Make A Quiz&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a target="quizilla" href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=42&amp;amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/users/occultmagic/quizzes/"&gt;More Quizzes&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a style="color:rgb(128,0,128);" target="quizilla" href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=19&amp;amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/codepastes/?quizid=2858135"&gt;Grab Code&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They know me so well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-5723298321227810031?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/5723298321227810031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=5723298321227810031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5723298321227810031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5723298321227810031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/what-is-your-role-in-relationship-male.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i2.tinypic.com/t5soy1_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-5523518665035986236</id><published>2007-03-15T17:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T17:42:46.734-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love is Evil'/><title type='text'>Hopeless Romantic...</title><content type='html'>How time has made me &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;bitter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Once upon a time there was a prince. He was a very charming lad, with silky dark locks that lay untidy before his eyes; piercing crystal eyes that always seemed to lock you into a melting stare, and the charm to send any woman swooning before his feet. He was a God; perfect in every way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;How lucky it would be to wake up to THAT every morning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if every woman has her own 'Prince Charming' and if they look at him in the same, helpless way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prince Charming? Call me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-5523518665035986236?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/5523518665035986236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=5523518665035986236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5523518665035986236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5523518665035986236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/hopeless-romantic.html' title='Hopeless Romantic...'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-6305343666149950725</id><published>2007-03-13T17:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T18:00:12.805-04:00</updated><title type='text'>SUNNY AND WARM!</title><content type='html'>HAHAHAHA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was my first full day back into the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND I GOT PULLED OVER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LMFAO!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BY THE SAME COP THAT GOT ME LAST TIME HAHAHA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gave me a warning. But my insurance expired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lmfao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAMN! Now I have to go to the court tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHA BUT I STILL FIND THIS ALL SO FUNNY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 73 outside. Maybe that's why I'm in such a good mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha. NOW I'M GOING TO THE PARK WITH ELLIE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-6305343666149950725?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/6305343666149950725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=6305343666149950725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6305343666149950725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/6305343666149950725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/sunny-and-warm.html' title='SUNNY AND WARM!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-5353840096013738843</id><published>2007-03-10T10:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-10T11:14:35.900-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Put me out of my misery.</title><content type='html'>Happy 200th post. It only took me about 2 years to get to it.. or 3.. I don't remember. But I finally made it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my overnight plauge it really starting to take its toll on me. I thought I had finally broken my fever, after it hit an all time high of 106 and I began hallucinating all though the night. It had gone back down to 98.6 yesterday, but I'm just not that lucky. My dog managed to plow open my door last night at 3 in the morning, and I got up to kick him out. Well, being the spoiled mutt that he is, he wouldn't move. So I eventually got him pushed out, closed and adjusted my door so he couldn't move it-- then blacked out. I fell and hit the wall pretty hard, and I think I was only out for a little bit. I heard mom coming down the hallway and she opened up my door when I was trying to get up. I finally grabbed onto the side of my desk and pulled myself up, only to black out again. At least this time I managed to land in bed before I face planted myself into the floor. Apparently my fever had sky rocketed again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was even starting to feel better too :[ I thought I might be able to leave the house today. Not the case. House arrest. It sucks. The first warm weekend in 5 months, and I'm STUCK IN THE HOUSE DYING! Dad got pissy with me this morning, like I'm trying to have people feel bad for me. Well I didn't ask for this. I don't want to PASS OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND BASH MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL. I want to be able to make myself something to eat without having to sit down every 30 seconds when my legs want to give out. Jerk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least Leo made french toast. Even though I couldn't eat a lot of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I guess it's time for me to fall back into my normal state of depression, because what else is there to do? Besides let the jealously of Jessica in Miami eat me alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well.. Looks like a sappy romance novel day to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-5353840096013738843?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/5353840096013738843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=5353840096013738843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5353840096013738843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/5353840096013738843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/put-me-out-of-my-misery.html' title='Put me out of my misery.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-1089663378339663712</id><published>2007-03-08T18:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T18:51:45.038-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Fiesta anyone?!</title><content type='html'>I'm dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mono. Bronchitis. Sinus infection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you like to come to my fiesta funeral?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Free food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Open bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those awesome big hats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funeral of the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I expect to see you there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-1089663378339663712?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/1089663378339663712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=1089663378339663712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1089663378339663712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1089663378339663712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/fiesta-anyone.html' title='Fiesta anyone?!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-8334697835593581618</id><published>2007-03-05T19:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-05T20:32:32.563-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>MIGRANE.... BE GONE!</title><content type='html'>1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8..9..10..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say counting helps with your temper;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11..12..13..14..15..16..17..18..19..20..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got a migrane from everything swirling around in my head, and quite frankly-- it's annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our HOSA competition is tomorrow, and I have to be at the Career Center by 5:45 AM. How repulsive. Nate has never practiced his half of our 'skill' and I will be skimming by in CPR. Mine and CoCo's poster is not done, in my opinion, to be presenting. We don't have enough pictures because the space left was for the ones from the job shadow... But our job shadow had nothing to do with the job we originally picked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jessica is down in Miami, and ever since she went down there I've been getting these crazy emo text messages. I don't know if they are because she's been drinking or if being around Carranda really has that much of an affect on her self esteem. I feel kind of bad because I got pissy with her, and the thought of paradise being&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; that&lt;/span&gt; depressing annoyed me even more. At least she gets to see the sun. I should probably send her a text to at least say I'm sorry. Fine. I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fking. Migrane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm in the middle of the break down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Ciao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-8334697835593581618?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/8334697835593581618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=8334697835593581618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8334697835593581618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8334697835593581618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/migrane-be-gone.html' title='MIGRANE.... BE GONE!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-8220937989792992313</id><published>2007-03-02T17:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T17:21:49.856-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoot me please'/><title type='text'>Vacation, all I ever wanted.</title><content type='html'>Thank. God. It's. Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week was ridiculous, to say the least. It felt like everything was being crammed into my brain all at once, and it got too much to handle. At the Career Center we have regional competition next Tuesday, and we have to be there at 5:45 in the fawking AM. My two events are CPR and some writing event, which I know I'm going to blow. I've had two days to practice CPR, and my partner wasn't there today. He doesn't know his part at ALL which is going to suck because now we will get down there and make fools out of ourselves. No one knows what the hell is going on, not even the teachers! I'm not looking forward to it. I will just leave it at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so overwhelmed. :[&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a vacation. Somewhere warm that actually gets to see the sun once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not just horrible white snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw-- Jessica, I'm mad jealous that you're in Miami. Hate you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-8220937989792992313?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/8220937989792992313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=8220937989792992313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8220937989792992313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/8220937989792992313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/03/vacation-all-i-ever-wanted.html' title='Vacation, all I ever wanted.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-9094742264822895965</id><published>2007-02-28T21:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T21:32:38.079-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love is Evil'/><title type='text'>For Hannah A.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;JUST LIKE I PROMISED: I'm dedicating it to Hannah A. Just because I pretty much love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus.. BSB Just seemed to fit the mood?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Backstreet Boys- As long as you love me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm leaving my life in your hands  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;People say I'm crazy and that I am blind  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Risking it all in a glance  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And how you got me blind is still a mystery  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I can't get you out of my head  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Don't care what is written in your history  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As long as you're here with me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't care who you are  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where you're from  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What you did  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As long as you love me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Who you are  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where you're from  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Don't care what you did  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As long as you love me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every little thing that you have said and done  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Feels like it's deep within me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Doesn't really matter if you're on the run  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It seems like we're meant to be  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't care who you are  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Where you're from  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; What you did  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; As long as you love me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Who you are  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Where you're from  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't care what you did  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; As long as you love me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I've tried to hide it so that no one knows  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But I guess it shows  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;When you look into my eyes  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What you did and where you are comin' from  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't care, as long as you love me, baby.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't care who you are  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Where you're from  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; What you did  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; As long as you love me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Who you are  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Where you're from  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't care what you did  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; As long as you love me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Who you are  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where you're from  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Don't care what you did  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As long as you love me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Blast from the past. BSB forever :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel better already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ciao&lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-9094742264822895965?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/9094742264822895965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=9094742264822895965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/9094742264822895965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/9094742264822895965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/02/for-hannah.html' title='For Hannah A.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-1191749612089760439</id><published>2007-02-27T18:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-27T18:40:48.827-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Owie</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Can we all say.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A  G  O  N  Y  ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Look it up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ciao.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-1191749612089760439?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/1191749612089760439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=1191749612089760439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1191749612089760439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1191749612089760439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/02/owie.html' title='Owie'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-3618346431462926239</id><published>2007-02-26T11:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T12:12:34.764-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adventures'/><title type='text'>How do they make it smell so fresh?!</title><content type='html'>Once again I find myself sitting in this damn chair skipping school. What a rebel I've become, and to think how seriously I took school when I was a little freshman. But there is a slight exuse for the reason I'm skipping today, I swear!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So CoCo and I we're suppose to go on a job shadow of a Forensic Pathologist today (People that look at dead people btw) and I was really excited, but super nervous. I met her out front of the school at 9 and we drive to where the office is. We ended up getting there really early, 9:15, and our appointment wasn't actually until 10. So we decided to go for a Beaners run!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow this coffee tastes really good for some reason today." - Me&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe it tastes just a little bit better because we're going to see a DEAD BODY!" - CoCo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the coffee run we went back only to find it was now, 9:30. CoCo realized she didn't have her camera so we had to drive BACK over to a 7/11 and buy a camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wonder if they would let me use the flash... or if everyone has sensitive eyes HAHA!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drove BACK to the office and decided just to go inside. We walk in and the whole way in I was wondering to myself if the office would smell like dead body. Then I began to wonder... What dead body smelled like? I began to regret drinking that coffee because my stomach started to turn horribly and I already thought I was going to be sick. How pathetic! I hadn't even seen anything yet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walk through the front door only to be met with a door and a key pad and the woman sitting at the front desk let us in. To my surprise it didn't really smell bad at all, so again my mind was thinking all these crazy thoughts like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Do they use a lot of air fresheners?&lt;br /&gt;-If so, do they keep them by the bodies?&lt;br /&gt;-Maybe they have so many plants to make it smell better.&lt;br /&gt;-I wonder how much a year they spend buying air fresheners.&lt;br /&gt;-Has that woman seen a dead body before?&lt;br /&gt;-Is it possible to work here and NOT be crazy?&lt;br /&gt;-Where did she get those shoes they're really cute (LOL)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't judge me. Lol :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The woman told us that the guy had some kind of 'emergency' and had to cancel. How annoying, they could of at least called us to let us know. Granted... There really isn't anyone &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;to &lt;/span&gt;call. BUT STILL! She offered for us to come back around 1 but I didn't really want to. So we took a card and told her we would just schedule another appointment. I was really disappointed, I had worked myself all up to see some horrible mutilated murder victim, and we left with a business card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boo. &gt;:[&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I came home, and get to wait around until I have to go to work at 3. I thought about going to the gym for a workout but I don't have the gas, nor the motivation to move. My lovely cycle has started for the month and once again I get the joy of mothering a beach ball within my womb (AND THAT DOESN'T MEAN I'M PREGNANT you stupid people. Like, J.R. :D jk).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I should go start on my obnoxious amount of homework I still  have yet to finish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jaa Mata &lt;3&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-3618346431462926239?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/3618346431462926239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=3618346431462926239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/3618346431462926239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/3618346431462926239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/02/how-do-they-make-it-smell-so-fresh.html' title='How do they make it smell so fresh?!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-2450358795204464334</id><published>2007-02-23T19:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-23T20:12:06.763-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love is Evil'/><title type='text'>I think it's love.....</title><content type='html'>I've finally decided... My Blog and I are now an item. That's right! We've been together for almost 2 years and 4 months. I think it's love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've become anti-social once again. SURPRISE! I blame the sickness, and the lack of care for what goes on around me. Oh well. What can ya do? :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, I am so bored it's unbelievable. The follies game against Lakewood "Beat the Wood" is tonight. I bet $10 we're going to lose, so "Beat the Hornets" just isn't as funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LALALA. There isn't anyone on Graal. There isn't anyone on AIM. I haven't looked to see if that damn Canadian was on MSN. But.. I'm lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm.. What else could I babel on about...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aww :[ I have so much homework this weekend. I guess that's what I get for being sick for two days. Stupid Human Bio/FST/English/Career Center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love being a loser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back at square one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Hilary and Blogger Forever &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;(Because thats all I'm gonna get)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-2450358795204464334?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/2450358795204464334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=2450358795204464334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/2450358795204464334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/2450358795204464334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-think-its-love.html' title='I think it&apos;s love.....'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-7276644952837381083</id><published>2007-02-14T16:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-14T16:47:51.347-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love is Evil'/><title type='text'>Be my Anti-Valentine?</title><content type='html'>Boo Valentines Day. The "holiday" solely based upon boyfriend and girlfriends and husbands and wives. Where everyone goes crazy if they don't get a gorgeous necklace or ring, and if they don't stuff their fat faces with more chocolate than a homeless man has ever seen. It's expected now in society that you should recieve a gift. It's almost like Christmas. Except... more depressing for single people (example: me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Valentines Day;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hilary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;Wish I had a sweetheart&lt;br /&gt;It's Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;Didn't even get a stinkin' card&lt;br /&gt;It's Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;I just have to say&lt;br /&gt;I hate Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;And I didn't get no chocolate&lt;br /&gt;It's Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;If I had a heart I'd hock it&lt;br /&gt;It's Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;All I have to say&lt;br /&gt;I hate Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;And I hope it finds you healthy&lt;br /&gt;It's Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;I just love to say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;pre&gt;I hate fuckin' Valentine's Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;L.I.E.&lt;br /&gt;Love is Evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c103/xXCrimsonEnvyXx/cat_th.gif" border="0" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-7276644952837381083?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/7276644952837381083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=7276644952837381083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7276644952837381083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7276644952837381083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/02/be-my-anti-valentine.html' title='Be my Anti-Valentine?'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-3718251216275314519</id><published>2007-02-13T18:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-03T17:01:14.648-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Snow day please.'/><title type='text'>Capital Adventures.</title><content type='html'>So things have gone from bad to good I guess. Last week I found myself in tears everyday and had had enough of just about everything. I took the ACT and got an 18 on it, and the score made me feel horrible about myself. Everyone around me was getting 20-30. Basically... I was the retarded one in the room. Then with tears in my eyes I hit black ice on the way home, and spun out my car. I almost hit two parked cars, and that's when I broke into a full out-hyperventilating- cry. Got home, and wanted to find the nearest gun and point it at my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was around then that something happened between Jessica and I. I don't understand why she is being the way she is to me. What did I do to deserve you acting like a bitch to me? Maybe we just need to stop talking and hanging out so much. Not that we've actually really hung out together except going to the gym together-- which she started going to by herself. Whatever. She's going to Miami for Spring Break with Carranda. I always get that pang of jealously when she talks about Carranda. She sounds so much more fun than me. Figures. I'm 5 years younger than both of them, and it's right about now when I feel that being smashed into my face. I think I may call off our Chicago trip, if we're even still going. I'm over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Ellie, Heidi and I are making a poster for the Michigan Mathematics Poster Competition. Our topic is: What action do you think the new 2008 President will take with the troops in Iraq? We made a survey and really wanted to pass it out to people at the Capital. Well, Ellie's mom used to work there, so she took us today. Heidi won't skip class, and that was annoying because all she had to do was call her mom. So Ellie and I went. We talked to our Senator, Gretchen Whitmer. She was really nice, and she took our survey. We even got a picture with her. Then we went over to where the State Reps. were. We saw our Rep, Barb Byrum, and she took our survey as well. We got a few others, and a lot from all the Legislature Aides. After an hour of walking around we made our way over to the Capital building. We got to watch the Reps. in session, and Barb Byrum even introduced us to everyone and we had to stand up. It was awkward. Really cool though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an overall good day. I'm really hoping tomorrow will be a snow day. That would be sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jaa Mata.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-3718251216275314519?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/3718251216275314519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=3718251216275314519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/3718251216275314519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/3718251216275314519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/02/capital-adventures.html' title='Capital Adventures.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-4117001691121821509</id><published>2007-02-03T16:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-03T17:01:15.612-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Flab to...... TOATLLY FAD'/><title type='text'>WTF BRAD PITT?!</title><content type='html'>Jessica and I went to the Y this afternoon for our workout, and it didn't really go too well.  It didn't really help that I was so bloated it felt like I had a beach ball crammed under my shirt all morning. We got there and it was packed, sadly. We never got to do our cardio because all the machines were taken, so we just skipped it and went to weights. Weights kicked my ass today, and I'm not quit sure why. My muscles were rather fatigued and my heart rate was going crazy. Not to mention I was on FIRE! I blame it on womanly problems, and I will hold to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After weights we decided to go swimming to maybe get in a little cardio. So we switched into our bathing suits (I can proudly say mine is beginning to look better and better everytime I put it on) and went out to the pool. Before we even got out the door I noticed some kid was waving at me. Huh? *DING* It was Rhone! GOOD GOD THERE'S RHONE AND HERE I AM IN MY BATHING SUIT! I think I can honestly say all the blood rushed to my head and I became a lovely shade of HOLY SHIT red. So I foolishly waved back attempting to cover myself with my towel and not slip and fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note to self: Check pool for any attractive/semi-attractive men/boys before walking out like a hippo in a tankini.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We swam around and I think my self confidence levels dropped about 4 million levels (Remember.. I still feel like I have a beach ball under my suit). So what if I compare him slightly to Brad Pitt. IS IT MY FAULT THEY LOOK SIMILAR IN MY EYES?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next time I go swimming.. I'm wearing a garbage bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*cough*helookedreallyhotinaspeedothoughhahaha*cough*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(0, 82, 163);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;OldBlueChair85&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; (5:00:13 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;color:#000080;"&gt;nut huggers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt;LMAO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ja Mata.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-4117001691121821509?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/4117001691121821509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=4117001691121821509' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4117001691121821509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/4117001691121821509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/02/wtf-brad-pitt.html' title='WTF BRAD PITT?!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-2905362183429121021</id><published>2007-01-31T20:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T21:03:35.837-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Flab to...... TOATLLY FAD'/><title type='text'>Goodbye FLAB!</title><content type='html'>So another week has rolled around, and in a couple days will pass. How tedious it seems when you look at it in that perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really though, this week hasn't been too bad. On Saturday I hung out with Jessica, and I went with her to her Weight Watchers meeting. I thought it was pretty cool actually; an environment where you didn't have to worry about who was judging you because everyone was there for the same purpose. They give a pep talk and hang out "BRAVO" stars for people that accomplish small things towards a healthier life. Good for them, a little motivation can go a long way. I was tempted to say something to get myself a star, but I didn't have anything to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were waiting for the meeting to actually start I had the sudden urge to go swimming... Swimming lead to calling the YMCA in Haslett. Calling the YMCA led to gym membership fees. Well, I think you can guess what comes after that. So after driving back to Leslie to get Jessica's stuff, driving BACK to my house to get my stuff (and take 45 mins shaving my hairy man legs) we were off to the gym!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a REALLY hot guy at the front desk. His name was something like, Gaelon... But he called himself "G." He got us our cards, and got us all set up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good God am I out of shape. I will just leave it at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we've worked out for the last four days, and today was our first day off because I had to go to work. Tomorrow it's back to the gym! Maybe the hottie lifeguard, Pat, will be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny story. So I was driving to work today and was slowing down to turn into the driveway but this guy behind me was NOT slowing down. So being good ol' smart me, pulled into the SLIPPERY ICY driveway.. and continued... to drive... into a bush. Yeah. I was pretty embarassed when it came to walking up to my boss's front door to ask him for help because I thought my car would be a good decoration to his shrubs. Dad and Leo ended up coming out to help push it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was pretty mortified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that made me smile today: "That sucks, because you're really smart."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHA! IT MADE ME GLOW FOR HOURS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JA MATA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-2905362183429121021?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/2905362183429121021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=2905362183429121021' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/2905362183429121021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/2905362183429121021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/01/goodbye-flab.html' title='Goodbye FLAB!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-7017844485449763773</id><published>2007-01-25T19:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-28T21:34:41.479-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Overwhelmed x a billion</title><content type='html'>I figured it was about time to update again since my mind will soon explode with the mass amounts of nothing filling to the brim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2007 has proved to be... horrible. Well, I guess I shouldn't really be blaming everything on the new time period. Most of it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is &lt;/span&gt;my fault. No, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all &lt;/span&gt;of it is my fault. I don't understand, I've turned into some crazy person that sits and watches box set DVDs of funny TV shows to make me laugh. Alright... So I've only resorted to that within the last week, BUT STILL! I've yet again pushed my friends away from me, and avoid talking to most people unless I have to. It always seems to get like this, is this how life is always going to go? Things will be going great for a while then, like a carpet being pulled out from underneath me, things turn for the worse. I guess it just comes down to one thing: I want to be happy. I want to be able to wake up in the morning, and look forward to each new day to spend time with my friends and family. Then that same quote I read only God knows where comes back to my head, "Happiness cannot be found, it just is." Right. If happiness just "is" why can't it just pull back around the corner and make another stop here at the Holland house? I'd greatly appriciate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the whole barn issue is.. slighly resolved. We got the two horses out of there, Will to Jessica's, and Nightingale to Linda's. Will is doing well, he likes his new home. I miss Nightingale so much since I haven't seen her since the move. St. Johns is far from here, and we haven't had a chance to get out there. Now comes the big legal battle. Should be great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm beginning to think my blog is losing its effect on me. Usually when I write all this out that feeling of being overwhelmed lessens, but today it hasn't. I think it might have actually risen. Great. Just what I needed. More for the crazy girl to think about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Let them say I'm &lt;b&gt;crazy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;.What  do they know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It's going to be a long year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-7017844485449763773?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/7017844485449763773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=7017844485449763773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7017844485449763773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7017844485449763773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/01/overwhelmed-x-billion.html' title='Overwhelmed x a billion'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-1993207901701414304</id><published>2007-01-02T17:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T18:03:16.444-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Worst New Year I've Ever Known.</title><content type='html'>Happy New Year. It's already ready the second day into the new year, and already it is proving to be a horrible year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were going great on the surface of it all (besides the fact I already got a speeding ticket). My new car is amazing, I finally got a blanket for Will, and I love my new job. It was just a taste of the good life. A taste of happiness. A taste of what could be, but apparently never will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had spent Friday and Saturday with Ellie. We had fun, like we normally do. I always just feel like a replacement for her when Olivia isn't around. The, "Well Olivia can't come over so do you want to?" I hate that feeling. Then I found out she had invited Cassy and Olivia up to her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Condo&lt;/span&gt; for new years. I think after she told me she was taking them she felt obligated to invite me. Or try to invite me. I'm so tired of not being good enough for people. I guess what we always joke about is right: I'm just the package deal and nothing more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning knowing it just wasn't a good day. The last day of break, the day where I had to cram all the homework I hadn't done. I laid around with Brie this morning watching tv, and just hung out. Mom eventually got mad and made me get up so we could go out to the barn and clean stalls. First thing we noticed was Will had already ripped his new blanket, and things just went down hill from there. Gene came up and told us they had got an evicted notice. That's right, the inevitable closing of Silhouette Manor had finally come. They were originally suppose to close today, but there was no way to move everyone out that fast. We have till Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within less than a half hour the decision was already made: we have to sell Nightingale. "Are you okay with that? Will you be able to handle it?" Do I have a choice? "Well you don't enjoy riding her anymore." Yes I do, I just couldn't because of her shoulder. We also have to find somewhere to take Will, not that we have money to board him anywhere. The two places we're looking at are Jessica's house, and Linda's house. Either way its half a tank of gas there and back, and they have no place to ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life went crashing down within an hour, and all I can do is sit here and cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I can say bye to my goal of showing him this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't things just be easy for once.&lt;br /&gt;WHY CAN'T MY FAMILY HAVE A FUCKING BREAK?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck the world. Fuck God. FUCK LIFE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-1993207901701414304?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/1993207901701414304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=1993207901701414304' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1993207901701414304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1993207901701414304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2007/01/worst-new-year-ive-ever-known.html' title='The Worst New Year I&apos;ve Ever Known.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-2044623486476451007</id><published>2006-12-17T18:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T18:47:18.050-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I GOT A CAR WOOO'/><title type='text'>CAR! CAR! CAR!</title><content type='html'>Woo! This weekend has pretty much just been amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday I had to get up at 6:30 and head to work. I don't mind getting up early for that, because I actually LIKE my job. I enjoy going there, and what's ever better is I get paid to do it! Spent a half hour there, came home and tried to fall asleep again. Didn't really work out because my brain had already turned on for the day. So I wrote another poem for our English poetry slam:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Roses are red.&lt;br /&gt;Violets are blue.&lt;br /&gt;Something, something, something,&lt;br /&gt;But something, something too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does this poem go,&lt;br /&gt;Does one actually know?&lt;br /&gt;I sit and I wonder if it really does finish,&lt;br /&gt;if it has an ending just as bright as it’s beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roses are red,&lt;br /&gt;Violets are blue.&lt;br /&gt;Roses soon wilt; their beauty short lived,&lt;br /&gt;Violets turn brown and perish to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;So how could the ending be as bright,&lt;br /&gt;When this ending sees no light?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could it be possible to stay in the beginning,&lt;br /&gt;To stay where the beauty began?&lt;br /&gt;Where the roses stay red,&lt;br /&gt;Where the violets glow blue.&lt;br /&gt;Where time doesn’t matter,&lt;br /&gt;Just the things you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roses are red,&lt;br /&gt;Violets are blue.&lt;br /&gt;God made them pretty,&lt;br /&gt;But they shall soon die too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not bad, I kinda like it. After that I waited around for dad to get ready so we could go look at this '93 Cougar. Finally Dad, Leo, and I went. We test drove it, and HOLY. SHIT. That car has some power. Dad decided he was going to race.... nothing. In the end.. we BOUGHT IT! WOOOO I'VE GOT A CAR! So, I told Kerry about it, and she made me this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c103/xXCrimsonEnvyXx/Gwaycar.jpg" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha I know right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is MY car:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c103/xXCrimsonEnvyXx/KIF_1550.jpg" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The difference?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gerard Way isn't in MY car :[ Maann........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to Meijers with Kerry. She bought a black snail for her brother, which she named Gary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c103/xXCrimsonEnvyXx/anim_056581ac-837d-22c4-15f9-0dbaa8.gif" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ended up getting into a fight with all the white snails in her brothers tank. HE DID SURVIVE! HEEEEEEEE's ALLLIIIVVEEEEEEE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went out later that night with Karlie, McBride, Doug and Alaina. That was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got home at 1am. Passed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUNDAY WAS FUN! Mom and I went to go get a Christmas tree. Got the best damn tree on the farm!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah. That was it :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jaa Mata.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-2044623486476451007?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/2044623486476451007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=2044623486476451007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/2044623486476451007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/2044623486476451007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/12/car-car-car.html' title='CAR! CAR! CAR!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-7495024839285301504</id><published>2006-12-12T21:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-12T21:36:37.328-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day 12 of 25 days of Christmas.'/><title type='text'>I guess I should update my life.</title><content type='html'>I can almost TASTE Christmas vacation.  It's right on the tip of my tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where oh where to begin. I'm am very happy to say that I am dropping the Career Center at the semester. It took me a little while to decide if I actually wanted to go through with it, but I've never felt so much hatrid for one place. At first I was worried that my parents were going to yet again label me as a quitter, but I think they are as happy as I am with the decision. At least I got a taste of what it would be like if I ever went into nursing (which I believe I won't). I just have 16 more days left, and I'm OUT OF THERE! I missed my 'mock' interview today. Not that I give a rats ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Human Bio is getting better. Slowly. I think now that I have the weight of the Career Center off my shoudlers, I can focus more on other things. I got 36/35 on my last two quizzes. THATS RIGHT! TWO EXTRA CREDIT POINTS! I was really excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got a job! I'm working at the Animal Medical Clinic, and just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; it! Olivia basically got me the job, and for that I'm grateful. I get $7.oo an hour :D. I signed up to work Christmas eve and Christmas day and I get triple time. $21/hr! I'm really excited about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we are looking for a car for me, and I never realized how obnoxious of a process it was. It went from a max of $2000, then to thinking about spending $3900. It also went from "Private dealers are the best" to "We should look at dealers" back to "Private sellers have the best deals." We're looking at a '93 Mercury Cougar. At first I didn't really like it, but I think it's growing on me. I found out it have almost double the horse power of my mom's 2005 f150. Meaning: I could smoke just about everyone in the school parking lot. Dad and I are going to go drive it this Saturday, and I really hope everything goes well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baah. I'm am slighly confused though. My parents think I'm sick with the stomach flu, but I don't know if it's that. I missed my *ehem* three weeks ago, annnndddd I don't really know why. I KNOW I'm not pregnant, unless I'm pregnant with Jesus. I think my ovaries are rebeling. Pretty much sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jaa Mata&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Dad &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-7495024839285301504?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/7495024839285301504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=7495024839285301504' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7495024839285301504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7495024839285301504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-guess-i-should-update-my-life.html' title='I guess I should update my life.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-454807865550606325</id><published>2006-12-08T18:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T18:14:59.698-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='HIV/AIDS'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lighttounite.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128);font-family:Comic Sans MS;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lighttounite.com" title="http://www.lighttounite.com" contenteditable="false" unselectable="on"&gt;www.lighttounite.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;Light A Candle. Make A Difference.&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-454807865550606325?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/454807865550606325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=454807865550606325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/454807865550606325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/454807865550606325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/12/www.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-1833658855610356388</id><published>2006-12-02T14:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-02T14:46:56.438-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day 2 of 25 Days of Christmas'/><title type='text'>JUST SNOW ALREADY &gt;8O</title><content type='html'>Boo, I woke up this morning with the hope for 6-10 inches of snow on the ground. Well! All I see are a lot of puddles, and a lot of green grass. BOO! I WANT SNOW! Christmas isn't Christmas WITHOUT SNOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Mother Nature, will you please get to it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks 8D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c103/xXCrimsonEnvyXx/KIF_1009.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEE! GREEN! LIGHT! NO WHITE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh hey look, theres my dad! Haha! Aww.. I guess you can't see him. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes... I took it through the window. It's still cold outside :[&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;{[{[{[JAA MATA!]}]}]}&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-1833658855610356388?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/1833658855610356388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=1833658855610356388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1833658855610356388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/1833658855610356388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/12/just-snow-already-8o.html' title='JUST SNOW ALREADY &gt;8O'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-7879574991470978429</id><published>2006-12-01T21:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T22:15:13.923-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day 1 of 25 days of Christmas.'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>25 days of Christmas has begun today. Another year is almost over. That's slightly frightening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we had a snow day, although it was more of an ice day. I'm glad we did because I really didn't want to go today. After my near break down yesterday, I wasn't sure if I could have faced people. Ellie and Olivia came by yesterday to see how I was doing. I don't know why, but I felt slightly annoyed. It's not as though they did anything to upset me, but I just wanted someone to blame everything on. Everything is catching up to me again, it seems to be like this every year. I keep telling myself that I can get through it, and I'm making way too big of a deal out of it all. I know that. I've realized that. But, sometimes everything gets too hard to deal with all at once. I've turned into a person that can only take so much, and I'm near an overload. That just can't be a good sign. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even have a best friend. :[ Or at least not anymore if there ever had been that time. I bet I screwed that up too. Maybe I'm just not "best friend" material. Just backround friend only. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I still haven't found a job. Even Felpaush won't hire me. Maybe I'm filling out the applications wrong. Or I've been putting the wrong phone number everytime. I told my mom I was about ready to turn to prostitution. Not that anyone would want me anyway, but it was just a thought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling Christmas is going to be pretty pointless this year. I know it's not about the presents and gifts, but I would like to get SOME things. I guess I shouldn't complain, if I can't afford to buy people gifts, then why should they get me something. I was looking forward to it, but not so much now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Break is soon. Can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;{Jaa Mata}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;Gackt-- Last Song&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atemonaku hitori samayoi arukitsuzuketa&lt;br /&gt;Kasuka na toiki o tada shiroku somete&lt;br /&gt;Utsuri kawari yuku kisetsu no sono hakanasa ni&lt;br /&gt;Wake mo naku namida ga koboreta&lt;br /&gt;'Ima mo aishite iru...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Furitsuzuku kanashimi wa masshiro na yuki ni kawaru&lt;br /&gt;Zutto sora o miageteta&lt;br /&gt;Kono karada ga kieru mae ni ima negai ga todoku no nara&lt;br /&gt;Mou ichido tsuyoku dakishimete&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wakari aenakute nandomo kizutsuketeita&lt;br /&gt;Sonna toki demo itsumo yasashikute&lt;br /&gt;Fui ni watasareta yubiwa ni kizamareteita&lt;br /&gt;Futari no yakusoku wa kanawanai mama ni&lt;br /&gt;'Ima mo oboeteiru...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toozakaru omoide wa itsumademo mabushi sugite&lt;br /&gt;Motto soba ni itakatta&lt;br /&gt;Mou nido to aenai kedo itsumo soba de sasaete kureta&lt;br /&gt;Anata dake wa kawaranai de ite&lt;br /&gt;Saigo ni miseta namida ga kisenakute&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kono shiroi yukitachi to issho ni kiete shimattemo&lt;br /&gt;Anata no kokoro no naka ni zutto saite itai kara&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yorisotte dakiatta nukumori wa wasurenaide ne&lt;br /&gt;Chigau dareka o aishitemo&lt;br /&gt;Saigo ni kiita anata no koe o kono mama zutto hanasanai mama&lt;br /&gt;Fukaku nemuri ni ochitai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Furitsuzuku kanashimi wa masshiro na yuki ni kawaru&lt;br /&gt;Zutto sora o miageteta&lt;br /&gt;Kono karada ga kieru mae ni ima negai ga todoku no nara&lt;br /&gt;Mou ichido tsuyoku dakishimete&lt;br /&gt;'Mou ichido tsuyoku dakishimete..'&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-7879574991470978429?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/7879574991470978429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=7879574991470978429' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7879574991470978429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/7879574991470978429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/12/wake-mo-naku-namida-ga-koboreta.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-116484921923100810</id><published>2006-11-29T20:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T20:14:31.836-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time</title><content type='html'>Is Christmas here yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh! School is driving me insane! I remember at the beginning of the year, I kept thinking this was going to be one of the best years we would have in high school. That thought, or hope, has quickly become crushed. We have a year and a half left of high school. Left with the people we have grown up with for almost 12 years now. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm hella scared to leave. Not only that but I feel like my group of friends is breaking apart. I know people change, but I wanted all of us to be there when graduation came. I feel so hopeless when it comes to this, and I feel like an idiot when I think back and thought we would all still be great friends till the end. It's just like the saying goes: good things must always come to an end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've become so terrified of leaving high school. A year and a half. Thats &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt;. I have no idea what I want to do; where I want to go. I haven't the slightest idea where I want life to take me. The only thing I've settled on is that I want to travel. I want to go out and see the world, and go everywhere I can. That's all I've got so far. It stresses me out, and recently it's like everyone is focusing on the future. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't want to worry about the future, I just want to worry about now! &lt;/span&gt;I'm so afraid of failing, and I'm so afraid of not going anywhere in my life time. Why does it seem like I'm the only one worrying about this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time is scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jaa Mata...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-116484921923100810?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/116484921923100810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=116484921923100810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116484921923100810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116484921923100810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/11/time.html' title='Time'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-116458821191815943</id><published>2006-11-26T19:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T19:34:08.134-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving Break</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Booo it's Sunday. Booo we have to go back to school tomorrow. Booo for school. Booo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Thanksgiving break was a long needed break. I loved going to bed at 2, waking up at 11. It was wonderful. I had the option all week of deciding what I wanted to do each day. Which was nothing. SURPRISE! I really had no obligations so I laid around all day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;On Thanksgiving we had a good day I guess. I was really disappointed with my dad, as usual. It just always seems that he does something to almost ruin it. Like that day, the race was more important than family. I really wonder with him sometimes; there are days that it seems as though he couldn't care less about me. Like I'm some burden he has to go around day in and day out. It hurts my feelings a lot, and it makes me feel like shit about myself. I really just started noticing this recently, but it still sucks. That and Eric wasn't even home with us. He had to go to work. We just ate, then left. Basic family holiday. It's as though none of us really seem to care.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The rest of the week I did little to nothing. Did pilates here and there. Read a couple fan fictions, finally got to talk to Dan again after 3 months. Yatta Yatta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Brie's birthday is today! Yay! And! It was Angela's birthday yesterday! Yay! USAGIRIKU DAY! AND! It was Olivia's birthday on the 22nd! YAY!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;..:..HAPPY 16th BIRTHDAY BRIE!..:..&lt;br /&gt;::..HAPPY 16th BIRTHDAY REEkoOoO!..::&lt;br /&gt;:..:HAPPY 16th BIRTHDAY OLIVIA!:..:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Haha I think that's all of them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;So Brie's birthday pretty much was the highlight of the week. Kerry, Olivia, Ellie and I all went over to her house and completely trashed her room. It was very entertaining. I would post pictures... but I guess I didn't save them from Kerry. WHOOPS! Anyway, she got home today from up north and called my cell the conversation went a little like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;*Ring Ring*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Hello?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"...."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Hahaha.... Helloooo....?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;".... There's... Confetti.... in my... hair."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"... How'd you get it in your hair..?!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"So did you like it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;"Haha! Did you like it!? Heeelllllooooooooo!! What was your reaction!?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;".... "What. The. Fuck.""&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Yes it was quite entertaining. I wish I could have been there when she walked in, but I had just gotten home from the barn and was attempting not to pass out (thats what happens when you don't eat since thanksgiving and then over heat youself).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;So, that was my holiday break. Very fun. :]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Oh wait:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;YAY! I GET TO TAKE JAPANESE THIS SUMMER!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Ok. Now I'm done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;(((((((Jaa Mata!)))))))&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-116458821191815943?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/116458821191815943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=116458821191815943' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116458821191815943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116458821191815943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/11/thanksgiving-break.html' title='Thanksgiving Break'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-116364040415270835</id><published>2006-11-15T20:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T20:26:44.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Take a leap of faith"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too bad I'm afraid of hitting the bottom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-116364040415270835?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/116364040415270835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=116364040415270835' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116364040415270835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116364040415270835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/11/take-leap-of-faith-too-bad-im-afraid.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-116355402394636752</id><published>2006-11-14T19:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T20:27:04.140-05:00</updated><title type='text'>1984</title><content type='html'>Every time I get on here to write something, I always find that I can never remember what I wanted to say. I always find myself thinking about what I want to say, or how I'm going to word it but when the moment arrives, I can never put anything that I actually want. I hate it. Is it because I don't have the ability to express myself in words? I always thought I did, and I always thought I did a good job at it. Maybe I'm just not cut out for this whole online journal thing since it seems to get me introuble more than anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in English we're reading the book "1984" by George Orwell, and it really made me start to think. First of all the book follows the character, Winston Smith, and his life that is more or less controlled by one man also known as "Big Brother." He lives his life in a society of purity; a society that has no thoughts of its own. The people of this society, also known as the Party, is led to believe whatever Big Brother makes them believe. History is constantly rewritten, and books are constantly changed. It makes me wonder how real our own world is. How do we know what we do is real, and if it has any real purpose? It makes me wonder if we just weren't fed a bunch of lies, that some how planted themselves into our brains. Since we weren't there to see our own history, can we trust the ones before us to relay it to us truthfully? I just wonder if there is some secret veil pulled out before us, covering our eyes, hiding something someone doesn't want us to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again I feel like a little love struck puppy. I think this time though, someone needs to hit &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this &lt;/span&gt;puppy on the nose with a rolled up newspaper. I can't much help but laugh at myself for this one, he really is the "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Prince Charming&lt;/span&gt;" kind of guy. Here I couldn't stand the kid for the longest time; wanted to smash him in the face with something everytime I heard his pre-pubescent voice behind me. I don't really get him, now that I think about it. He just kind of does his own thing. Random, yes. But... his own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I have to go now, because Matt, Ski and McBride are being angry and want me to play Guild Wars. WELL FINE. I WILL. &gt;:P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-116355402394636752?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/116355402394636752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=116355402394636752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116355402394636752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116355402394636752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/11/1984.html' title='1984'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-116302530234968503</id><published>2006-11-08T17:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T17:35:02.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just an update.</title><content type='html'>So I just remembered that in two days it will be mine and bloggers two year anniversary. How cute. Please, stop and leave me a loving comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soooo much has happened, and I don't even remember when I last posted. Last Thursday I went to Chicago with Jessica. Let me just say, Chicago is the most amazing city ever. Although we didn't get to see very much of the city, I'm so excited now that we will be moving there in four years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School has been a drag. I have no time to go out and see my horses, and when I do it's only long enough to clean their stalls. I have homework every night and I HATE it! But the book we are reading in English, 1984, is really good. I like it a lot.  It's much more mature than the books we have been reading up till now, and for that reason I can actually get into it. Human bio-- still kicking my ass, but slightly less. FST still a waste of life, but better when I actually pay attention and do work. Career Center is just boring, and I really don't like any of the people there except a few. Autumn came back-- THANK GOD! She is like the only person that I talk to, except Crystal. Brytani and I have the chance of becoming friends. I like her, but I don't understand why she doesn't really have any friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brie-- I know you read this, and I hope you choke on a pretzel. If you don't know WHY I'm mad at you, then you are an idiot. And for that reason, I don't want to even talk to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; 41. Who is your loudest friend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; she is pissed at me right now for NO REASON AT ALL!! but hilary. defenatly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Fuck You Sweetheart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-116302530234968503?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/116302530234968503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=116302530234968503' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116302530234968503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116302530234968503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/11/just-update.html' title='Just an update.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-116207019149987825</id><published>2006-10-28T17:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-28T17:16:31.520-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What?! Plus size modeling? Where did THAT come from?</title><content type='html'>How far would one go to make a friend feel good about themself? Is it okay to lie to them, when you know the truth will only hurt their feelings? Are friends always telling each other the truth? If they always do, then why does it feel like mine are lying to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today my mom and I were just sitting and watching TV. I was whining and complaining because my cramps are eating ulcers into the lining of my stomach, and out of the blue mom goes, "You should try plus size modeling." &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HUH?! &lt;/span&gt;Where the hell did that come from? I laughed of course, what a stupid idea. You have to be pretty to be a model, even the plus size models don't look plus size. I thought she was kidding, but apparently she wasn't. I got the whole, "Do you know what my friends say about you at work? You're so beautiful, and you're the only person who doesn't see that!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hate &lt;/span&gt;when people say that to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to thing of yourself as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pretty&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;beautiful &lt;/span&gt;when you haven't ever been. I'm the girl that never gets a second look from anyone. The one who trys her hardest to look nice, but is never pretty enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to my friends about it, cause I thought they would get a good laugh out of it as well. But they all keep telling me that I should do it. Sure usually when someone says that they are just being nice because they don't want to hurt their feelings. Why can't I just trust what they say, and believe them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just afraid to be laughed at :[&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-116207019149987825?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/116207019149987825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=116207019149987825' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116207019149987825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116207019149987825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/10/what-plus-size-modeling-where-did-that.html' title='What?! Plus size modeling? Where did THAT come from?'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-116129936294883474</id><published>2006-10-19T18:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T19:12:20.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What About Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Two day's in a row, I'm seriously on a roll!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was, stressful. I failed my Human Bio test, by... a lot, and got really upset about it. I don't know why I was so upset because I already knew I was going to fail it. I'm a slacker, and didn't feel the need to study. Haha.. Well... BIG MISTAKE! The rest of my day was pretty shot after that because it put me into a terrible mood. I got to the Career Center with high hopes, and only to be faced with an empty chair. I was ready to go home by then. I dragged though an hour, and then at one, he came :]! I got excited...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know when you get that little feeling in the pit of your stomach and you think your day is finally going to start looking brighter? Well... That's what I felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Brown (Principal.. or assistant principal... Idk) came and TOOK ME AWAY!! *Sigh* Of course. He wanted to tell Crystal and I about his meeting with creepy Webberville boy. It sounds as though the meeting went well though, but I still hate him-- just for the record. Mr Brown asked us what we thought would be a suitable punishment for him, and right then and there I discovered I could never be a teacher. I would really SUCK at punishing kids if I couldn't just reach over and smack the hell out of their bratty little mouths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after a half hour of boring talk (Mr. Brown has a way of repeating everything over and over again but with different words. It was rather annoying to be honest), I went back to class. Ready to be flirty and cute, I sat back down and cautiously glanced up to where he was sitting. He didn't look happy though, and he looked really hurt. I don't know why, but I never got the chance to ask him. He can't hide anything though, his GORGEOUS eyes told me everything. I felt bad, I wanted to ask and see if he was ok. DAMN MY SHYNESS! With a deep feeling of regret 2 o'clock rolled around and I slowly left... to wallow more in my self pity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was leaving the school with Heidi, I saw Ryan McBride for the first time since the very first football game. It was weird seeing him in the highschool, and even more weird seeing him and knowing he was single. I didn't really get a chance to talk to him, and wish I had. I heard his laugh echo in the dome, and that really made me realize how much I missed talking to him, and seeing him everyday. It's just so weird that he's single now! Bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I started listening to Keith Urban again, and it makes me remember so much. Like, freshman year when Olivia, Emily, and I always used to hang out. Haha and out Keith, Keeth and Heath beach story. Or burning everything of NM at Olivia's house. Lol Silent One, Dances with Squirrels and Wet Foot. I really thought freshman year was the worst, but after just the beginning of this year I wish I could have that year back. I wish I could go back and really enjoy those moments that I took for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trisha is right though: our group fell apart. It upsets me. Everything's changing, and it's never going to be how it used to be. I miss those old friendships, and the moments. I miss how it all used to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Keith Urban- What About Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm livin' in a world that won't stop pullin' on me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I'm not complaining but it's true&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; It's like I owe my time to everyone else&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; 'Cause that's all I seem to do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; You might not notice but I need a good friend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Someone to talk to when I'm down, down, down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; There's so much on my mind that I want to get out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; But there's no one around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Sometimes I can't help thinkin' what about me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Some days go by that I don't even see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Yeah I'm doing everything right and I can't break free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Oh is this the way it's always gonna be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; What about me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Well I'm dreamin' I'm on  a highway with the windows down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I'm burnin' up the road at my own speed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; But I'm stuck here goin' nowhere in this traffic jam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; And there's a woman with her kids in the car next to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; And I swear she's singin'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Sometimes I can't help thinkin' what about me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Some days go by that I don't even see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Yeah I'm doing everything right and I can't break free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Is this the way it's always gonna be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Hey, what about me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Oh, sometimes I can't help thinkin' what about me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Some days go by that I don't even see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I'm doing everything right and I can't break free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Oh is this the way it's always gonna be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; What about me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-116129936294883474?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/116129936294883474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=116129936294883474' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116129936294883474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116129936294883474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/10/what-about-me.html' title='What About Me'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-116120955930197056</id><published>2006-10-18T17:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T18:14:39.346-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy for once.</title><content type='html'>Things are going okay, but things aren't going too great. What do you call that? Neutral? Just there? Or things are just... going? We'll go with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are just going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the highschool I find myself completely stressed out mainly because I feel like I don't have time to do everything I need to do in a day. Human Bio. is kicking my ass to say the least. I'm border line failing FST, and English is just annoying. I have a big test tomorrow in Human Bio. and I haven't studied at all... go me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have noticed something really horrible developing about myself. I'm turning into one of those girls that I just HATE! I'm constantly gossiping about people, and talking behind their backs. It's disgusting! I'm trying to watch myself and what I say around people, because that's not cool at all. I hate it when people do that to me, so what gives me the right to do it to them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Career Center has been... amusing-- to a point. There's this kid from Webberville and he is one creepy kid. Last Friday he was staring mindlessly down my shirt, and constantly making sexual innuendos to me. Then when we were getting off he decided he was going to ram his little duffle bag thing into my butt. I mean comon... Once is an accident. Twice begins to get awkward. Three times or more, and this kid is a pervert. THEN! Crystal and Kyle were fighting at the door, so I couldn't get in, and this kid was behind me. Any reasonable (or non-retarded) person would have STOPPED behind me... not kept going untiiiiiiil they were practically molded up from behind me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I panicked- to say the least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I elbowed him so incredibley hard in the stomach, and basically ran in the door behind Scott (He's in my Health Occ class-- cool kid). Throughout the class I developed an anxiety attack and got a horrible migrane and almost passed out. It wouldn't have been such a big deal if this kid wasn't so huge! He's the size of my older brother, but squished. If he wasn't the kind of kid I would be afraid of raping me in a dark alley way when I'm walking home on a cold night, I would of just called him a bitch and hit him. But... I didn't want to get shot. I swear he is going to bring a gun to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is an upside to this whole Career Center thing though. I find myslef infatuated with one of my fellow classmates. He really isn't my type to begin with... kinda... but he has got the most gorgeous eyes, and when he talks to me he holds my eyes and doesn't stare at my chest. I like talking to him, a lot. Now.. if only he was taller :[ still really cute though. He overheard what Crystal and I were saying about the Webberville kid, and kept telling me he and Nate would rough him up if he didn't leave us alone. I couldn't help but smile when he said that. Haha I can't help but smile now when I think about him. I can't NOT smile when I talk to him. It's embarassing. But he's so cute!! Ahh! Infatuation. I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like being happy. I think it fits me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-116120955930197056?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/116120955930197056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=116120955930197056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116120955930197056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/116120955930197056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/10/happy-for-once.html' title='Happy for once.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115921296479249315</id><published>2006-09-25T15:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T15:36:08.653-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ready. Set. No School?</title><content type='html'>Oh highschool. How I am so tired of you already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Homecoming was last Saturday. I some how let my friends convince me to go, and how sorry I am that I did. Pre-dance was so much more fun than the actual dance. Trisha, Ellie, Emily, Heidi, Kait, and I all went to Bennagans for dinner and had so much fun. Our waitress brought our a bowl of cherrys after Trisha ate mine :[ Then after we were joking around and got our food, I told them all we were going to take a souvineer (sp?) home with us. Haha.. Well... On the table there was a bottle of red Faygo pop, one of the original ones that said 'Display Only.' Lets just say... WeputitintoEmily'spurseandtookitwithuswhennoonewaslooking. :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner, it was still too early to go to the dance so we got the brilliant idea... to go to Meijers! We pulled into the parking lot and walked into the store. It was so entertaining to see all the people who were staring at us. When we got inside Trisha asked one of the employees where the 'old person carts' were, and he turned really red and pointed to where they were. They went and got one, and we put Emily in it, because her knee is messed up, and walked through Meijers. Kait was the one pushing Emily, and really should never push an injured person ever again. "Oh that's cute!" *CRASH* It was really funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meijer's eventually got boring, and we had a huge bag full of candy, so we decided to start making our way to the dance. Back roads, on a rainy day, with Trisha driving... are very scary. Poor Heidi had to follow her, and we all though we were going to wet ourselves from laughing so hard. Trisha apparently thought this as well, because she pulled over and ran out to pee in the middle of a corn field. Haha then she asked Heidi for something to wipe with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dance sucked. Really, really sucked. I had the whole night planned out in my head and nothing went the way I had imagined. Drama. Fighting. Crying. Broken Hearts. It was a nightmare. I guess that's just how it goes though, there can't just be one night that's meant for fun that doesn't turn into a disaster. If there was one thing I could have changed though, I would have asked him to dance. Maybe he would have said yes. Who knows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that was homecoming. Blah. Never again :[&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw-- being a junior sucks. I HATE IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciaooooo0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115921296479249315?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115921296479249315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115921296479249315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115921296479249315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115921296479249315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/09/ready-set-no-school.html' title='Ready. Set. No School?'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115817981105917689</id><published>2006-09-13T16:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T16:36:51.096-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What else am I good for?</title><content type='html'>Homecoming.  What a waste of time, and mind. Sure I want to go; what girl doesn't want to get dressed up, and get her hair and nails done? I don't have the money, nor the self confidence to go. I wanted to ask one of the new kids if he wanted to go (obviously after I summoned up some balls and talked to him). But... my clone, the one i spent my entire summer turning into what she is today, is going to ask him first. Fine go right ahead you stupid bitch. Stab your best friend in the back. Ask the kid &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;liked first to homecoming. I don't care anymore. You can take everything I want, and when you lose it I will be right here for you to cry to. Because what else am I good for? Obviously not good enough for a chance, or an opportunity. Everything is already falling back into place. You can take everything from me, and I just won't say a word. Sometimes I just wish I would have even the slightest chance at that one thing I want...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115817981105917689?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115817981105917689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115817981105917689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115817981105917689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115817981105917689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/09/what-else-am-i-good-for.html' title='What else am I good for?'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115777069352424123</id><published>2006-09-08T22:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T22:58:13.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lmao... Funniest thing EVER!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="1157769240719"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:33:59 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;that sucked dick!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240720"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:34:12 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240721"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:34:55 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i went to the game and i had to hang out with the popular people because no one else was there &lt;img contenteditable="false" alt=":(" src="aolbart:/1024/id/0201D201A5/3A28" unselectable="on" /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240722"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:35:08 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240723"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:35:10 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;whs game?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240724"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:35:14 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;yes  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240725"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:35:27 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;becasue karyn is a bitch and never called me back!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240726"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:35:29 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;whore  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240727"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:35:34 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;:[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240728"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:35:37 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;why didnt you call me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240729"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:35:41 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;i woulda gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240730"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:36:05 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE WITH FRANNIE YOU HOE!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240731"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:36:07 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;LMAO  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240732"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:36:11 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;no&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240733"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:36:12 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;she called&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240734"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:36:14 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;and said she couldnt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240735"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:36:16 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;do anythign&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240736"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:36:17 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;:/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240737"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:37:06 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;UGH... so you are telling me that you could have gone to the game with me and i didnt have to hang out with popular people and have him touch me AGAIN!?!?!? you could have saved me from him!!! god hil!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240738"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:37:18 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240739"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:37:20 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;shoulda called&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240740"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:37:21 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;&lt;img contenteditable="false" alt=":-D" src="aolbart:/1024/id/2B000001E4/3A2D44" unselectable="on" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240741"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:38:22 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;no YOU should have called because i did call you and you said you were with frannie... or going to be with her so i ASSUMED you were going so :p on you!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240742"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:38:23 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;lol  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240743"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:38:47 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240744"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:38:48 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;well&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240745"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:38:50 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;i ASSUMED&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240746"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:38:53 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;you were in dandville&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240747"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:38:54 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;er&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240748"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:38:56 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;dansville*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240749"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:39:42 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;welllllllll we have an ESP thing going on here so YOU should have known that i wasent in dansville!!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240750"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:39:50 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I BLAME YOU HILARY!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240751"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:39:55 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;WHAT NO!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240752"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:40:00 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;YOU DONT BLAME YOUR NO. 1!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240753"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:40:05 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;YOUR NO.1 BLAMES YOU!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240754"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:40:07 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;ITS YOUR FAULT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240755"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:40:43 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;isnt never # 2's fult dumb ass..... FORST THE WORST SECOND THE BEST   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240756"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:40:46 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;DUHHHHHHHHHHHH  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240757"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:41:02 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;FIRST*  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240758"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:41:21 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240759"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:41:32 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;WHO SAID YOU WERE MY NO. 2?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240760"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:41:41 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;YOU COULD BE NO. 8 OR SOMETHING!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240761"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:41:49 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I DID  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240762"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:42:36 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;no i am your #1 acourding to your myspace and i will always be your 31 because I AM FUCKING AWESOME THANKS TO YOU AND YOU KNOW ITS TRUE BITCH!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240763"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:42:38 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt; (10:41:52 PM): &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;Kevin... you're my no.1 right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt; (10:41:55 PM): &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;just say yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt; (10:42:08 PM): &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;JUST SAY YES BISH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt; (10:42:12 PM): &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;IM IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ARGUMENT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt; (10:42:14 PM): &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;COMON!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt; (10:42:29 PM): &lt;b&gt;b4nshee06&lt;/b&gt; (10:43:40 PM): yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240764"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:42:40 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;HA!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240765"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:42:53 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240766"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:43:03 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i thought you wernt talking to him?!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240767"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:43:07 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;loser face!!!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240768"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:43:10 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;thats kevin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240769"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:43:11 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;not adam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240770"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:43:19 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;no okay goodness  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240771"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:43:41 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i am still your #1  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240772"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:44:23 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240773"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:44:25 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;kevins like&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240774"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:44:26 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;wtf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240775"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:44:38 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;lol  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240776"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:44:44 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;wait for it hil!!!!!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240777"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:44:54 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;ROFLMAO!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240778"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:44:56 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;ROFLMAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240779"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:45:03 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;LOLOLOLOLOLOL!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240780"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:45:04 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;LMAO  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240781"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:45:05 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;ROFLMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240782"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:45:11 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;b4nshee06&lt;/b&gt; (10:44:36 PM): &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span  lang="en" style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;!-- (7:44:23 PM)--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span  lang="en" style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;what is your problem?!?! I AM HILARYS # 1 SO BACK THE FUCK OFF!!!!!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240783"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:45:15 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;ROFLMAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240784"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:45:39 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="background-color: rgb(254, 254, 254);font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#0000ff;" family="SANSSERIF" pt   lang="en" &gt;&lt;b&gt; b4nshee06: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;" family="SANSSERIF" pt   lang="en" &gt;&lt;img contenteditable="false" alt=":-(" src="aolbart:/1024/id/0201D201A5/3A2D28" unselectable="on" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(254, 254, 254);font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;" family="SANSSERIF" pt   lang="en" &gt;&lt;b&gt;BigFlirt9871: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;" family="SANSSERIF" pt   lang="en" &gt;you can be #2  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(254, 254, 254);font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#0000ff;" family="SANSSERIF" pt   lang="en" &gt;&lt;b&gt;b4nshee06: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;" family="SANSSERIF" pt   lang="en" &gt;cool&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(254, 254, 254);font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#0000ff;" family="SANSSERIF" pt   lang="en" &gt;&lt;b&gt;b4nshee06: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;" family="SANSSERIF" pt   lang="en" &gt;&lt;img contenteditable="false" alt="8-)" src="aolbart:/1024/id/0201D201A5/382D29" unselectable="on" /&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240785"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:45:58 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;omfg im laughing so hard!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240786"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:46:09 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;lol  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240787"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:46:11 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;good   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240788"&gt;&lt;span class="remoteName0"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;BigFlirt9871&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:46:12 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span family="SANSSERIF" pt  lang="en"  style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;!!!!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240789"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:46:20 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;LOL thats the funniest thing ever!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="1157769240790"&gt;&lt;span class="localName"&gt;&lt;b class="screenname"&gt;xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp&gt; (10:46:23 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#000080;"&gt;LMAO!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115777069352424123?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115777069352424123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115777069352424123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115777069352424123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115777069352424123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/09/lmao-funniest-thing-ever.html' title='Lmao... Funniest thing EVER!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115767921021648223</id><published>2006-09-07T21:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T21:33:30.493-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay! I'm a Junior!</title><content type='html'>Today was the third day of my junior year, and I'm not going to lie-- I really like my classes this year. Not only do I have friends in all of my classes, but I have sweet teachers as well. Then with only three hours at the school, I get to go to the Career Center for Health Occupations. It makes my day go a lot faster, and I'm beginning to start looking forward to going to the CC. My class at the CC is really awesome. Most of the people are really cool. I sit next to a girl named Brytani, she is the smart one. I learned more from her in the last three days than I did all summer. Meghan is another horseback rider, and I knew I had seen her at a show before. She's really funny, it took her a little while to warm up to me but she finally did. Samantha is more quiet, but always does something to make us laugh (even though she doesn't really realize it). Then the girl (I can't remember her name at the moment) that has 230 cats, and gave CPR to a mouse. Haha, she is so hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really beginning to grow apart from some of my other friends though. Like Trisha, Emily and Jennifer. I never get to see them, and since I don't have them in my classes and I don't stay at the school for lunch, I never get to seem them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well... I don't really remember what else I was going to write. So... I will just stop :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Just think... Summer '07 isn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;far away...~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115767921021648223?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115767921021648223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115767921021648223' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115767921021648223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115767921021648223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/09/yay-im-junior.html' title='Yay! I&apos;m a Junior!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115695461569253264</id><published>2006-08-30T12:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T12:16:55.856-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgive, but not Forget.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Forgive, sounds good&lt;br /&gt;Forget, I'm not sure I could&lt;br /&gt;They say time heals everything&lt;br /&gt;But I'm still waiting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer's coming to a close, and I don't know how I feel about it. Sure, I feel like it's been completley wasted on nothing, and I could have made it much more exciting. We had orientation this morning. I enjoyed seeing everyone again, I did miss some of my friends a lot. I'm really hoping this year is going to be different for Brie. She's changed a lot over the summer, I finally got her back to the person she used to be. The drama's so last year, this year will be different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So currently World War III is going down at my house. Dad and I got into a huge fight last night, and aren't talking to each other. It started over the stupidest thing: I wouldn't let him use &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;MY&lt;/span&gt; computer to check his stupid e-mail. It's like wtf? It's mine, you don't have to use it if I don't want you to. He continues to tell me I have another thing coming, and I'm so selfish... Well you know what dad? I'm not going to fight you. You win. I'm a bitch. I'm worthless. I won't make it anywhere in life. I will always come crawling back to you, "daddy" because you know what's right, and I know nothing but the wrong. No one will want me, and I will always be alone. I'm glad you were there to tell me all of this, because without you... I would be no where. Oh, and I'm glad you didn't say anything about my hair because even though I love it so much, since you don't like it-- I don't either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm confused, and I'm hurt. I just want to be loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115695461569253264?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115695461569253264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115695461569253264' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115695461569253264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115695461569253264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/08/forgive-but-not-forget.html' title='Forgive, but not Forget.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115628257404044213</id><published>2006-08-22T17:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T17:36:14.066-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tuesday. Nothing happens on Tuesday. I skipped work this morning, because I REALLY didn't want to go. Mom was pissed at me, but whatever I don't care. The new seretary they just recently hired, Amy, was fired. I feel bad for her, she went out to buy all new clothes for this job because all she had was suits. Apparently she wasn't qualified enough for the job, and on the simpliest tasks would ask for help from Jayne. But since they fired her... I have to start working at the front desk again. The thing I hate the most at the horrid job, I have to do my last week. Bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So State show was this weekend. It was a complete, and utter disaster. We trailor down on Saturday night, and Nightingale was absolutely disgusting.  I was embarassed to walk with her she was so dirty. Didn't leave that night until around 9:30-10. Got home, stayed up till 11. Passed out. Got up early on Sunday and drove down. I was excited when I got there because for once, in all show history, she had stayed clean. So we hang around, and the show is moving at a damn snail pace. 3-4 classes before mine I tack her up and go warm her up. She felt and looked fantastic. I was so pumped up, and I knew we would actually have a chance in these classes. With my hopes high I take her back into the barn and wait for my class. Jessica came to help support me,  and I was happy she came. A class before mine, I get her back out and go to warm her up again.... to find she was lame. I couldn't believe it. She was perfectly fine going one way, but the instant you changed her bend she was off. Everything hope I had, was crushed. We wouldn't have any chance, not at this show. Jessica got on, and figured out she would limp less if I counter bent her in one difection. I tried it.. Yeah it worked, but was I going to be able to keep that up for my four classes? We went into the first class, and in my split there were 19 other riders. I think every single girl in the arena was wrenching, and pulling on their horses mouths the entire time the class went on. Then! THEY all placed! It was to most unfair judging I have ever seen in my life! I gave up and went home. Not only was I not going to have a chance the entire day if he was placing like that, but I didn't want to hurt my horse even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I could sleep for the entire week, and just not do anything. That's the kind of mood I'm in. I just want to hide, and be left alone :[&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;[[What if I wanted to fight ]]&lt;br /&gt;[[Beg for the rest of my life ]]&lt;br /&gt; [[What would you do? ]]&lt;br /&gt;[[You say you wanted more ]]&lt;br /&gt;[[What are you waiting for ]]&lt;br /&gt;[[I'm not running from you]]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ciao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115628257404044213?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115628257404044213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115628257404044213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115628257404044213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115628257404044213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/08/tuesday_22.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115592998910171987</id><published>2006-08-18T15:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T15:39:49.136-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleeeeeeeeeepy..</title><content type='html'>It's 3:15 and I'm at work, and I'm ungodly bored. I'm lonely cause there's no one to talk to, and tired because I don't sleep at night anymore. I have and hour and 45 minutes left, but hey! Who's counting?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this weekend I have state show, and I really just... don't want to go. I'm tired of horse shows, it's all the same crap:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I show good&lt;br /&gt;I place low&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, I don't even care anymore. I feel like my entire summer has been wasted on these stupid horse shows, and this mind numbing job. I didn't get to go on any trips; I barely saw any of my friends, and I've watched more music videos on the internet than I thought was humanly possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah well, my supervisor just walked in. I was caught. Haha oops :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ta.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115592998910171987?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115592998910171987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115592998910171987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115592998910171987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115592998910171987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/08/sleeeeeeeeeepy.html' title='Sleeeeeeeeeepy..'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115586461859191591</id><published>2006-08-17T20:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T21:30:18.723-04:00</updated><title type='text'>August? Since when?</title><content type='html'>It's August. I don't remember when August came, nor do I want it to leave. When September comes school begins. I'm not looking forward to school at all. I don't want to see everyone I left behind back in June.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm... Well I officially HATE my job. When I go in every other morning, I find myself wanting to shoot someone in the face. It wouldn't be so bad if they actually &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;gave &lt;/span&gt;me something to do. I sit in the library all day, logging books. At least I don't have to deal with people though, that's one good thing about it. They hired a new girl, Amy. She's really nice and she answers the phones. Brian left... the one attractive male in the ENTIRE BUILDING. Yes... he left. Off to med school. I was sad when he left. It made my days a whole lot longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandma is in the hospital, and has been for the last week. She had to have surgery, and is recovering. Thankfully it wasn't horribly serious, but it still wasn't a walk through the park. Since our family is so big, the day we found out she was taken to the hospital, our phone would not stop ringing. My aunt Carol somehow got my cell phone number! I was like wtf?! She randomly called me in the middle of all this "just to talk." She annoys me badly. It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't try so hard, but when my aunt Mary-Beth died, she took it upon &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;herself &lt;/span&gt;to tell everyone else in the family. My aunt Mary-Beth was the woman married to my uncle for 20 years. Whatever, I just ignore her everytime she calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Jessica and I have decided we are going to go to Chicago for culinary degrees. I'm really excited, and I know she is too. Jess called the guy from the school, and he even called her back once or twice. It really impresses me that he made the initiave to call back, it makes me want to go even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I just wanted to update to prove that I'm still alive. I just havn't had much time..... well... I have, I just never wanted to update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Live it up everyone, Summer '06 is coming to an end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115586461859191591?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115586461859191591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115586461859191591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115586461859191591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115586461859191591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/08/august-since-when.html' title='August? Since when?'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115308145767946662</id><published>2006-07-16T16:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-16T16:35:04.093-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Common Ground</title><content type='html'>Today is Sunday! The lamest day of the week. But that's okay, because I don't have to work; don't have to go anywhere; don't have to care. So I'm sitting here in scrubs with my hair all over the place and it's 3 PM. Gotta love summer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week was dull, to say the least. Mon-Wed I worked. Thursday was my first day off in a long time. I slept. And I loved it. I layed around all day, until Matt called me. It appeared as though he was finally out of his mono sleeping coma, and wanted to hang out. So after a lot of arguments, we settled on Superman Returns 3D on Imax. We drove over to McBrides house to see if he wanted to go, and Allie was there. They agreed to go, and so Matt and I went to Meijer to use the coin star. I won with a total of $54.00; toatlly destroying his $30 some. Then off we went, not exactly sure of how to get to celebration. Instead of staying on 96 and getting off on the cedar street exit... we got off at Downtown Lansing. We were just looking for Lansing... well... sort of looking... We were laughing too hard to notice. I had no idea where the hell we were, so I called McBride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"McBride I think we're a little lost..."&lt;br /&gt;"Where are you guys?"&lt;br /&gt;"Uh... well we're passing the Lugnutz stadium right now...."&lt;br /&gt;"How the hell did you get there?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was really funny, or at least for Matt and I it was. We drove through the bad part of Downtown Lansing (me freaking out the entire way through). Eventually made it back onto the highway. Then.... found ourselves on campus. Since we had missed the movie by... oh... 45 minutes-- we just went out to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday was also a lot of fun! It was Common Grounds! I felt really bad that I basically told Brie she couldn't come, so I called her and told her we were going to Meijers to buy her a ticket. It was an interesting trip, my brothers truck hates me, so it doesn't start whenever I get into it. I hate that truck &gt;:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we got the ticket, went to the mall to find Brie something to wear, went back to my house, caked on the black eyelines, and dark eye shadow. After 30 minutes we were ready! And! We looked hot! (Insert peer laughter here). I don't think I've ever had that much eye makeup on, but Brie kept telling me I should wear it like that more often. Jess finally got there, and we were off! We grabbed a taco bell, stopped at Meijers to pick up some water (that we wouldn't even be aloud to take in) and headed to Downtown Lansing! We parked at the theatre that Jess works at, and walked, in the rain, to the East Gate. We got there an hour early, and stood in line. Finally they opened the gates, and people were trying to cram themselves in. They checked everything, and Jess had to take her camera all the way back to her car because it could take video. She was pissed, but told us to go inside and wait for her to get back. So Brie and I went in, and wandered around and made our way to the East Main Stage. Haelstorm came on and we were listening to them. They were pretty good, not to mention their drummer was toatlly gorgeous. Half way through Haelstorm, Jess made it back, and we made our way to where Keith Anderson was playing. I felt really out of place, I was in all black and looked pretty emo, and all around us were hicks. Lets just say I got a lot of unfriendly stares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waited around, blah blah. Got hit on by a creepy guy, blah blah. Keith Anderson was late, yatta yatta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FINALLY! He came out on stage. There was a woman behind us that was going crazy. Or.. I think she was a woman... She whipped out pictures of her and Keith, like.. A LOT of pictures. I swear a couple of those were photoshopped... Back to the story... We stayed for a couple of his songs because we wanted to get to Trapt. He sang my favorite song of his, Every Time I Hear Your Name. LOVE IT! Walked back over to the East Main Stage, and crammed our way into the crowd for Trapt. We were in the middle, and having an absolute blast. Then three guys showed up behind us, and apparently heard me say, "No standards" and kept bumping into us. By the time Trapt was over, people were pushed up next to each other, and everyone was sweating like crazy. Then! SHINEDOWN CAME OUT!!!!! Everyone went CRAZY! The three guys by us, Matt, Pat and Kyle were all over us. There was so much alcohol, and so much pot (WHICH I DIDN'T DO BTW!). It was an awesome night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Things to Remember:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We're just skipping over 3rd base and heading straight for home!" -Brie&lt;br /&gt;The Nick May look-a-like&lt;br /&gt;"I wish I was water proof like the ducks..." - Brie&lt;br /&gt;The motorcycle guy flashing us his nipple&lt;br /&gt;"I like your boobs." - Some guy to Jess&lt;br /&gt;"I want to ask you a very personal question..." "Yeah I'll have sex with you!!" -Shinedown to the crowd/me to Shinedown&lt;br /&gt;The creepy indian guy who kept saying he was going to steal my information&lt;br /&gt;A very drunk Kyle groping Brie&lt;br /&gt;Not telling, 25 year old Kyle, that Brie was only 15&lt;br /&gt;Sounding like I had just sucked in helium walking back&lt;br /&gt;The guy that hooted at us, and came around the corner for more&lt;br /&gt;Trying to walk to the car with a horrible buzz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a great night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bbq Sauce anyone ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115308145767946662?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115308145767946662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115308145767946662' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115308145767946662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115308145767946662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/07/common-ground.html' title='Common Ground'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115258130330732703</id><published>2006-07-10T21:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T21:28:23.366-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear Hilary,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;There are some days that I just do not understand you. The days when you look in the mirror and actually think you look pretty, or the days when you think that cute guy was looking at you. You never look pretty, and he's never looking at you. Nobody looks at you, and they never will. You aren't worth anyone's time; you are nothing but a mistake. The biggest mistake that was put into this family, into this city, into this world. Get over youself-- no one will ever have you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just thought you should know.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The side of you that you try to hide&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115258130330732703?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115258130330732703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115258130330732703' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115258130330732703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115258130330732703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/07/dear-hilary-there-are-some-days-that-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115222349952231181</id><published>2006-07-06T17:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T18:04:59.550-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Eh... Nothing exciting.</title><content type='html'>So I've finally got time to update, and I thought I should eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good. The initial shock of losing my aunt is gone, and it's beginning to sink in. It's easier to handle now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is... good. Busy more than anything. BUT! It is easier to get through the day when Brian pops in and out. Hehe. Infatuation is fun. He's cute; shy, but very cute. Too bad he's like 20 some. Then theres Shameer... absolutely hilarious. I swear he comes into work stoned. NOBODYS EYES ARE THAT RED ALL THE TIME! He makes me laugh, and I think he may have a &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;tiny, itty-bitty &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;crush on me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm.. Jess is back from Germany! YAY! I GET MY IPOD BACK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up North with Brie was fun. We got into a lot of trouble. Muaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm off to Jessica's house. Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115222349952231181?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115222349952231181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115222349952231181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115222349952231181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115222349952231181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/07/eh-nothing-exciting.html' title='Eh... Nothing exciting.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115154298405469741</id><published>2006-06-28T20:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T21:03:04.083-04:00</updated><title type='text'>R.I.P. Mary Beth Flayer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So today was the funeral. I can't really put it all into words... except how much I am going to miss my aunt. I'm going to miss getting to know her all over again. Miss knowing her when she was finally happy. Miss the woman she had always wanted to become. The service was very emotional, and the after feeling is really upsetting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home all of it sunk in and now I'm stuck feeling sick. Sick and emotional; emotional and upset. I need a shoulder to lean at the moment, but I can't seem to find any. I can't help but wanting to be selfish and have somebody say, "I'm sorry," and try to make me feel better. I want someone to help me right now. I want that person to lean on. But of course, I have no one. It upsets me more to know there is no one I &lt;strong&gt;want &lt;/strong&gt;to lean on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I want to cry. Tonight I want to crawl into bed, and just die. I don't want the world to see me, and I don't want them to hear me. I just want to be alone. Just alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;R.I.P. Mary Beth Flayer. You will be missed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115154298405469741?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115154298405469741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115154298405469741' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115154298405469741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115154298405469741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/06/rip-mary-beth-flayer.html' title='R.I.P. Mary Beth Flayer'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115142042653842669</id><published>2006-06-27T10:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T11:00:26.696-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting for Friday.</title><content type='html'>This last week has been so crazy. Friday-Sunday was the horse shows. We got down there on Friday (obviously) and mom and I bathed Nightingale, banded, and set everything up. Saturday was the Well Dunn open show. I signed up for four classes, English equitation and pleasure, as well as Western Horsemanship and pleasure. The show started at 8 am, well by the time I did my second ride, English pleasure, it was 6 pm. It was the slowest show I had ever been to in my entire life. I didn't even do my western rides because I wasnted to go to Karlie's open house. In that show I only got a 6th in my English equ. I thought it was really good though because this year was my first year riding senior, and I had 11 others in my class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday, the first 4-H achievement day, Nightingale and I did really well. We did showmanship, completley screwed up the pattern because I followed the girl ahead of me, but took first! English equ. placed second. English pleasure, third. Then my western classes were a complete joke. Nightingale twisted her bit in the pleasure class, so I had to jump down and fix it. Trail was really fun though. I had to go through a rope gate without dropping the rope. Nightingale was afraid of it, so kept twisting around and I almost dropped the rope when she decided she didn't want to go through it and kept walking forward. My arm was twisted around my body, but I held onto it! The judge laughed at me. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also this weekend I found out my Aunt Mary Beth was killed in a motorcycle accident. So tomorrow we are going to the funeral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then on Monday I started my new job. I had to get up at 5:30 to go feed Frannie's horses. The night before I had told Brie everything that was giong on, and she thought I was going to kill myself trying to do everything. So she kept saying she was going to come over to my house at 5:30 and go with me to help with the horses. I didn't actually think she would though! I woke up at 5:30, and didn't see her outside. I figured she was sleeping. So I went and got ready, and walked out the door. She JUMPS out of the bushes in shorts and a tank top. I just kind of stared at her. She &lt;em&gt;ran &lt;/em&gt;all the way to my house at &lt;em&gt;5:30 &lt;/em&gt;in the morning. What a crazy person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to my new job. I got home and got ready and basically felt like shit. Drove to Panera's (sp?) and got a muffy. Drove to work. I did so much yesterday, and I was exhausted when I got home. A girl named Jayne basically tells me what to do. Shes really funny, she made the day go a lot faster. Mary is really nice, as well as Mark, Tina and Ting. AND! for 7 hours working I made $48. w00t! (I &lt;em&gt;only &lt;/em&gt;make $6.50 and hour &gt;:P).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah... that was my weekend. This is ging to be such a long week. I cannont wait until Friday when I get to go up north. I'm looking forward to the beach and the sun and not doing ANYTHING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha right now I'm watching the 3 Voss boys work out across the street. They are such meat heads. Lmao. They want to become ministers. Big burly manly ministers. SPOT ME JESUS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115142042653842669?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115142042653842669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115142042653842669' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115142042653842669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115142042653842669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/06/waiting-for-friday.html' title='Waiting for Friday.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115101565543748163</id><published>2006-06-22T18:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T18:34:15.463-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay... or... Boo?</title><content type='html'>Yay for the horse show this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;Boo for Rachel not being there.&lt;br /&gt;Yay for dad not staying in the trailor.&lt;br /&gt;Boo for having to sleep on the bunk.&lt;br /&gt;Yay for getting a job!&lt;br /&gt;Boo for only working 3 days a week.&lt;br /&gt;Yay for making $.50 more than my last job.&lt;br /&gt;Yay for being able to eat lunch with Karlie.&lt;br /&gt;Yay for getting to work with Kari.&lt;br /&gt;Yay for going up north in a week.&lt;br /&gt;Yay for going to common grounds on the 14th.&lt;br /&gt;YAY FOR SUMMER!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115101565543748163?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115101565543748163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115101565543748163' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115101565543748163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115101565543748163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/06/yay-or-boo.html' title='Yay... or... Boo?'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115082283542167382</id><published>2006-06-20T12:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T13:00:35.493-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Fried Summer Mind.</title><content type='html'>So once again I have nothing better to do and decided to update. There hasn't been much going on lately. I've been hanging out with Brie a lot, which has been toatlly awesome! We went shopping the other day, and didn't get home until around 11. We also went to go see Nacho Libre, which was really funny. My mom keeps telling me I should call her cousin Kari and talk to her about everything, but I don't want to now. Everything is how it was before; we get along and we have fun together. I don't want to mess it up, not after it took so long to get where we are now. We are going up north next week to her grandparents house. Part of me wants to, but then the other part is screaming at me not to go. I hate her grandparents, as well as her aunt. But Brie's mom, Linda, said we could just get away from them and go onto the jet skis. I'm really excited because I've never been on one before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I started running, and I can really notice a difference. My legs are a lot firmer and I might actually be able to wear a bathing suit without making people gouge their eyes out. When Brie and I went shopping I got a really nice one, the top looks awesome. The bottom-- not so much. I have the &lt;em&gt;ugliest&lt;/em&gt; legs EVER! I told her I was going to just wear the top, and swim in jeans. How cool would I look? Anyway, I'm a lot happier now that I'm finally getting healthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend show season starts for me. I took the state show test last night, and at first I though I was screwed because I didn't look over anything. I was going to wing it. I got in there, and this test was one of the easiest things I have ever taken. If only my physical science test was like that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which I definitely passed the class with a 2.5! w00t! GO ME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I trailor down on Friday. I'm kind of excited, but not really. Rachel isn't going to be there, so I am going to be a loner. No Ipod, no Rachel, no fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm... there was a lot I had wanted to post, but I don't remember any of it. Summer has taken away my mind. I love it. So now I'm just going to sit here, and listen to AFI. Brie and I got their new cd the other day, and I can't stop listening to it. Which by the way... Jade is really really hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115082283542167382?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115082283542167382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115082283542167382' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115082283542167382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115082283542167382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/06/fried-summer-mind.html' title='A Fried Summer Mind.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-115033222311470253</id><published>2006-06-14T20:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T20:43:43.136-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;'Kill the part of me that does nothing but dream.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so frustrated with everything right now, and I don't know the reasons for some of the things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brie and I got into another fight last night, surprise, and I have yet to talk to her. I'm at a complete loss of what to even say, or do, to help her with anything. I don't know whats real or a lie when it comes to her now days. Did what she say really happen? Then why doesn't Kari know? But I thought she &lt;em&gt;said&lt;/em&gt; Kari knew..? What about Kari's fiance? Does he know? She said he did. &lt;strong&gt;Why doesn't anything make sense anymore?!&lt;/strong&gt; I've got this huge cloudy area in my head that is just a blur of everything all at once. I am so confused and I have no idea what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That whole last post about Kerry was really random when I looked back on it. I really have no idea where any of that came from. I said a lot of things that I didn't mean, and I was being a coward and blaming things on other people. I know Kerry reads this, and if you read this one, I'm sorry. I hope you're having a good time in Texas and everything with Fred is great. With everything that you've gone through I don't want to start anything that doesn't need to start to begin with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I would just like to tell people who leave me random, pointless, annoying comments to stop. I don't know who you are, I don't care what you have to say, and I couldn't give a rats ass what your opinion is. Thanks ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The summers starting out great. Wouldn't you say?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-115033222311470253?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/115033222311470253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=115033222311470253' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115033222311470253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/115033222311470253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/06/kill-part-of-me-that-does-nothing-but.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114998356532056288</id><published>2006-06-10T19:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-10T19:53:40.983-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So summer is finally here as of thursday. To be honest I don't really know if I'm happy about it, or upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now all I know is that I am not a very happy Hilary. I am really irritated with a few of my friends. Kerry started going out with Fred, and it really upsets me. I don't know why it does so much but it does! I hate how she runs around acting like she is the ugliest thing on the planet and how fat she is and blah blah. She makes comments about being fat and I cannot stand it! She calls me and tells me shes so confused, and she doesn't know whats going on and she has no idea what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I don't care about your 3 boy love triangle&lt;br /&gt;2) I hate when you try to make me feel better about something by saying something about yourself&lt;br /&gt;3) We aren't as good of friends as we used to be ever since you got a boyfriend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate always being second. I'm second or less for everybody. I wish Jessica was home because she is my best friend by far. Even if she did get a boyfriend, she would still always make time for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I complaining about? I should be happy my friend's got a boyfriend. Well. Here's me being happy for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodluck with everything. I quit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114998356532056288?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114998356532056288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114998356532056288' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114998356532056288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114998356532056288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/06/so-summer-is-finally-here-as-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114927606257624901</id><published>2006-06-02T15:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T15:21:02.600-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally! Home Alone! YES!</title><content type='html'>So finally I actually have the time, and computer, to update. Everything is really stressful, and school is almost over. Yesterday was the seniors last day, I was surprised I wasn't a bit more sad. Everything seems about 20 times slower than before. Just four day! FOUR! 1-2-3-4! I am so ready for summer. I am ready to sleep in, and come and go as I please. Four... horribly... long... days....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my dad's friend/employee, Leo is currently staying with us. The barn lost electricity because they electric company finally decided to come out and look at the meter after two years. Well, now they owe $10,000. Who has that kind of money? Seriously, nobody can just whip that out of their back pocket at this point in time. On tuesday Leo was taken to jail. This came as a HUGE shock to me because my grandparents came up to see us for our concert. The reason was he hasn't been paying for child support. Oops. I also found out he has two other kids, making a total of four. Hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is really annoying having so many people here all the time. I can never get on the computer now that our PC got fried from the storm. But that is coming home today. Dad is constantly on the computer, and now that Leo is staying in here it is kind of awkward to just barg in and jump on the computer. Mom is really stressed and I don't really blame her. It's like having three kids, not counting me because I can take care of myself more or less. Two of which are constantly bickering and gossiping about the barn. I swear they are worse than two old women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am definitely running solo for a while. Frannie is in New York for a horse show. Jessica is still in Germany. I don't really know what Kerry is up to these days, and Brie and I got into a fight which I originally started because I'm tired of listening to her cry and whine and be depressed all the time for no reason. She get so upset about this stupid druggie kid that she kissed &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;once&lt;/span&gt;. Well at first she was just wishing he would leave and never come back. Long and behold she got her wish; he dropped out of school. Now she is perfectly fine at times, then... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BAM&lt;/span&gt;, whiny/depressed/annoying in about two seconds tops. Like the other night we went to Lisa's party and hung out all afternoon. Then when I was taking her home she almost started crying, I was like WTF?! Then we got into a huge argument, and surprise! She turned into an emo. Whatever I am so tired of trying to help her, and trying to always say the right thing. This whole thing is stupid, it was one kiss! ONE! She making it seem like they dated for years, and they were deeply in love but then one night she gets home and catches him cheating on her! Again. I just don't care anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh! I love being home by myself! I can blast music and not have to listen to people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's all that I can really think about. I suppose I am going to just kick back and savior the moment that I am going to assume will not happen for about another month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114927606257624901?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114927606257624901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114927606257624901' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114927606257624901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114927606257624901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/06/finally-home-alone-yes.html' title='Finally! Home Alone! YES!'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114800193642480611</id><published>2006-05-18T21:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T21:25:36.450-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You mean it's not Friday...?</title><content type='html'>Where oh where to begin...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on Tuesday I got my license! :D and so far I am loving it! I drove by myself the night I got it, and I just felt so free. Flyin' down the back roads (no faster than 60 I assure you) listening to my music. There's no better feeling than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jessica left for Germany today :( for six weeks. It's going to be a long six weeks. 41 more days till she gets home. I hung out with her everyday this week. Bah. I already miss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So dad found my blog on accident, and read my post (which I deleted). It was weird because I was really hesitant about posting it in the first place, talk about karma. But, if he does happen to read it again, I'm going to be honest. This is my space, my area where I vent, complain, and spill out my feelings. I don't like that fact that you have to read this, because you don't trust me. I gave you my promise that I wouldn't write anything like that, and I appriciate that you won't trust what I told you. Please give me my privacy. Pleace give me my space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's all. I am most definitely in need of some long awaited sleep. So 9:30 sounds like a sweet bed time for me tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Count Downs:&lt;br /&gt;13 Days till schools out&lt;br /&gt;41 Days till Jess gets back&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114800193642480611?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114800193642480611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114800193642480611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114800193642480611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114800193642480611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/05/you-mean-its-not-friday.html' title='You mean it&apos;s not Friday...?'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114687683178212978</id><published>2006-05-05T20:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T20:57:59.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The day after.</title><content type='html'>So another birthday came and went. It definitely was a good day, I really enjoyed it. Brie went all out for it- she decorated my locker, made me cupcakes, and bought me a present. I love that girl, we will always be good friends no matter what. My parents got me this gorgeous ring, a gold band with 4 emeralds, and 3 diamonds. Jessica and Frannie are going to take me out when they get money and or their car back. So that will be fun. Good day yesterday though, I wouldn't change it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today though, I was very down for most of the day. I can't shake this empty feeling that I'm having, and it's beginning to bug me. Something in my life is missing, and I really want to know what it is. The feeling continues to grow everyday, and it starts to feel like a faint aching. Whatever. I don't care. Maybe it's just stress from school and everything. Bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just thought I would update. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later Days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114687683178212978?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114687683178212978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114687683178212978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114687683178212978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114687683178212978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-after.html' title='The day after.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114665729789378411</id><published>2006-05-03T07:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T07:54:57.923-04:00</updated><title type='text'>&lt;3 Two hour delays.</title><content type='html'>Yay! We've got a two hour delay, thats to the fog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thing have slowly gotten better... Except my health, which has slowly gotten worse. Haha I think my last post scared a lot of people, I was almost thinking about deleting it, but then I remembered I wasn't allowed to by Rachel's rules. Maybe it was good that I blew up and had a major melt down, because I feel like a lot of weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Spring is here, and everything is beautiful and green. Tomorrow is my Sweet 16. My horse Will is doing awesome, and I have already ridden him once, tonight will be the second time. Nightingale is also doing great, I just need to stop being so lazy and get her back into shape. My friends and I are all getting along, and there is only 25 days left until class of '08 become juniors. Jessica gets to go to Germany this summer, and she was thinking she wouldn't be able to go in the beginning. My dad is finding a lot of work here in Michigan. I'm applying for a job in the next week or so. I got accepted into the career center. Life is good! I guess Spring brings out the happiness in people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So like I said, tomorrow is my Sweet 16. I'm not getting a vehicle, but that doesn't really bother me. It's not like I was planning on driving all over hell when I got my license first thing. My major birthday present/christmas present from '05 was Will. Besides, when I need to go somewhere I can always just steal my mom's truck. Will is soo much cuter than and car could be :).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess I'm going to go make some breakfast, because I've still got about an hour and a half before I have to go to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy one day early Birthday to me and to Frannie's puppy, Hope, and Ann from the barn, AND! Lance Bass from N'sync! Lol. Don't judge me &gt;:P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay Fog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114665729789378411?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114665729789378411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114665729789378411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114665729789378411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114665729789378411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/05/3-two-hour-delays.html' title='&lt;3 Two hour delays.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114635051900666320</id><published>2006-04-29T18:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-29T18:48:27.833-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Confession</title><content type='html'>I don't know how I feel anymore. I'm beginning to think I am wearing a sign that says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;All those that want to be my friend are welcome. Only if, in the future you will have a breakdown, and threaten to kill yourself at the exact same time as all my other friends.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Please fill out an application, and I will get back to you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Part of me just wants to say, "Well go ahead and end your fucking life now, because it will sure save me a lot of thinking time." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Jesus Fucking Christ! Why do all of my friends all at fucking once decide they want to become suicidal?! What the fuck am I suppose to do? How the fuck do you want me to help you, when you don't tell me anything? I'm sick of it! I don't &lt;em&gt;want &lt;/em&gt;friends anymore! You play it off like your fine, but its pretty fucking obvious your not! GOD DAMNIT JUST FUCKING STOP! STOP STOP STOP! I CAN'T DEAL WITH IT ANYMORE! I CAN'T HEAR YOU SAY THINGS LIKE THAT AND NOT TELL ANYONE! I WON'T BE ABLE TO WAKE UP IN THE MORNING AFTER YOU'RE DEAD AND LIVE! I CAN'T HANDLE YOUR WEIGHT, HER WEIGHT, THEIR WEIGHT ON MY SHOULDERS! I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO HELP YOU ALL! I CAN'T DO IT! I CAN'T I CAN'T I CANNOT FUCKING HANDLE IT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I CAN'T BE EVERYONES GUARDIAN ANGEL!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Happy early birthday to me..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114635051900666320?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114635051900666320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114635051900666320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114635051900666320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114635051900666320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-confession.html' title='My Confession'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114607378591996280</id><published>2006-04-26T13:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T13:49:45.956-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sinus infection- day 2</title><content type='html'>Go me, I skipped another day of school. Maybe having a sinus infection isn't so bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I found one of my old stories yesterday, and I started reading it. It was the one based in midieval times, with knights and kings and all that. Then I sent it to Jessica, and apparently it "inspired" her to write her own. So she started one, similar to it. Then I started a new one. I really like how this one is turning out though, I think it is a lot more mature. Granted, its about two girls that disguise themselves as men to go to war to save their twin brothers. Mulan-ish, but not really. Because once they get found out, they are send to the kingdom they are at war with, to assassinate their king. It's going to be awesome. I'm debating on whether or not I want to put it onto &lt;a href="http://www.fictionpress.com"&gt;Fiction Press&lt;/a&gt; or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's part from the first chapter-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“You even said it yourself, Avelina, I am more of a boy than our baby brothers.” Juliana replied softly, looking away from her sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“You know that is not what I meant--”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Do not speak to me as though I am some senseless idiot, Avelina Ela. I choose to fight in the place of my brothers, in the place that my father once was, and I will do so, no matter what you say.” Juliana stood up, after giving Avelina one last heated gaze, and turned to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Wait--”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“I have nothing more to say to you Avelina--” Juliana said, not bothering to turn around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“I will go with you.” Juliana’s feet came to an abrupt halt, and she turned around slowly to face her sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“What…?” Her voice came out raspy from the cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“I will go with you, Juliana Clare.” Avelina did not move from her spot on the grass but looked up, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “We shall go together.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So like I said I really like how it's turning out :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm going to take a nappy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114607378591996280?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114607378591996280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114607378591996280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114607378591996280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114607378591996280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/04/sinus-infection-day-2.html' title='Sinus infection- day 2'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114598408515087622</id><published>2006-04-25T12:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T12:54:45.186-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sinus Infection. Stress. And stage plays...</title><content type='html'>Sinus infections suck. I knew it was building up for the last few days, and it absolutley killed me today when I work up. I knew it was at its peak last night when the world around me began to spin, and I couldn't stand up for more than five minutes at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pissed because I have to write out 3 of the 6 scenes for our stageplay in english, because I stupidly offered to do it. I wrote out my entire 20th Century Film screenplay last night which took me over four hours. I'm stressed out, I can't see straight, my body shut its self down. Being sick sucks. Highschool sucks. Stage plays and screen plays suck too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm going to go take some drowsy medicine :)  so I can be in the middle of writing the stupid scenes and pass out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Owie :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114598408515087622?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114598408515087622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114598408515087622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114598408515087622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114598408515087622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/04/sinus-infection-stress-and-stage-plays.html' title='Sinus Infection. Stress. And stage plays...'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114547704673375766</id><published>2006-04-19T15:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T16:11:03.486-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Same Shit. Different Day.</title><content type='html'>Why is it always when you are happy and content with everything, your life has to turn upside down? Last weekend was perfect, and so far this entire week has sucked. Plus... it's only Wednesday. I still have two more days until the weekend. Bah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I think I managed to embarass myself countless times without even trying to. Not just infront of a few people though, infront of entire &lt;em&gt;groups.&lt;/em&gt; I'm really not going to get into it, but I just want to crawl into a hole and die. I have a project due tomorrow, and I havn't even started it. The movie Citizen Kane sucks. I have a head splitting migrane. I got home to find out my horse reacted to some shots she got, and one side of her neck is completley swollen. I have to go out and wash her down, and give her medicine. Still depressed because I feel like I'm unwanted. I still don't have an answer on whether or not I got into the Career Center. I failed a pop quiz in Preston's class. Someone stole, lliterally &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;stole&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, our table at lunch for the SECOND day. Mom is extra crabby, while dad is being a &lt;u&gt;complete &lt;/u&gt;asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I QUIT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I QUIT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I QUIT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I QUIT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Alright. I think I got all of that out of my system. So on a lighter note! Will got ridden for the first time yesterday! Vince said he would help us for a while, so we used his saddle and I longed him first. When Vince went to get up on him in the beginning, he caught Will off guard and so he kind of jumed around. The second try was good, he walked him, and trotted him a little, then got off. He's a little unsure of weight on his back, so he got tense and ended up sweating like a maniac. He was really good though! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosting by Photobucket" src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c103/xXCrimsonEnvyXx/Will1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosting by Photobucket" src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c103/xXCrimsonEnvyXx/Will2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My Moose :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c103/xXCrimsonEnvyXx/Face-Nightingale.jpg" border="0" alt="Image hosting by Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Cranky Nightingale &lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114547704673375766?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114547704673375766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114547704673375766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114547704673375766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114547704673375766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/04/same-shit-different-day.html' title='Same Shit. Different Day.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114532147853418000</id><published>2006-04-17T19:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T20:51:18.623-04:00</updated><title type='text'>:) I have a lot of time on my hands</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;THE BEST SURVEY EVER... NO MORE BORING QUESTIONS!&lt;br /&gt;The boring questions...&lt;br /&gt;What’s your name?: Hilary&lt;br /&gt;How old are you?: 15&lt;br /&gt;Your home town..?: Williamston&lt;br /&gt;Where you live right now?: Williamston&lt;br /&gt;Who do you live with?: The parentals and the el brothero&lt;br /&gt;How many friends do you have?: Haha 0.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever...&lt;br /&gt;Wanted to die: Yes&lt;br /&gt;Made s’mores: WHO HASNT!?&lt;br /&gt;Cheated on a test: Muahaha..&lt;br /&gt;Wished upon a star: Of course&lt;br /&gt;Prank called: Is your refridgerator running?&lt;br /&gt;Used up 10 bottles of silly string: Not 10..&lt;br /&gt;Cried in front of your crush or boyfriend/girlfriend: Hmm. No.&lt;br /&gt;Missed someone so much your heart hurt: Yessum&lt;br /&gt;Beaten someone up: DIE ERIC!&lt;br /&gt;Been beaten up: Eric hits hard :(&lt;br /&gt;Won an award: Of course&lt;br /&gt;Kissed someone in the rain: How romantic. Not.&lt;br /&gt;Kissed someone in the snow: NAKED AHAHA. no.&lt;br /&gt;Kissed someone while playing truth or dare, 7 minutes in heaven, etc: Okay. We are done with the kissing questions&lt;br /&gt;Been hit my lightning: LOL yes. I have.&lt;br /&gt;Almost drowned: Nay&lt;br /&gt;Bought a lava lamp: Who the fuck BUYS them? steal them from garage sales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Your love life...&lt;br /&gt;Are you single, in a relationship, married etc: Single. SURPRISE&lt;br /&gt;Are you straight, bi, homosexual etc: STRAIGHT!&lt;br /&gt;If your taken, what is their name?: Jared Nightingale *fans self*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;If you're single do you have someone in mind?: Hormones are evil.&lt;br /&gt;Who?: LIKE I WOULD TELL!&lt;br /&gt;Are you IN love: Sadly. No.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been in love: No.&lt;br /&gt;Do you love someone: I love my horsies xD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;How far have you gone, first, second, third, home plate: I sit next to Hannah on the bench =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Random questions...&lt;br /&gt;So, do you own a cell phone?: Yessum&lt;br /&gt;An iPod: Who doesnt?&lt;br /&gt;Do you have AIM or any other instant messenger?: AIM, Yahoo, MSN&lt;br /&gt;If so, what’s your screen name?: AIM- xxCrimsonEnvyxx&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have a MySpace?: Yes&lt;br /&gt;Livejournal?: Yes&lt;br /&gt;Xanga?: nay&lt;br /&gt;Any of those other journal things?: BLOGGER!&lt;br /&gt;What’s your favorite restaurant?: Don't really have one&lt;br /&gt;Favorite food?: MEXICAN!&lt;br /&gt;Favorite drink: Chocolate Milk &lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;How many closets do you have in your room?: uno&lt;br /&gt;How about in your house?: four&lt;br /&gt;Is your phone ringing right now?: Uhm... no...&lt;br /&gt;What time is it right now?: 7:17&lt;br /&gt;What kind of computer do you own?: A shitty one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you like cheese?: har har&lt;br /&gt;What’s your favorite kind of cheese?: i like spicy cheese&lt;br /&gt;What are you listening to right now?: "My Confession" by Josh Groban&lt;br /&gt;Are you eating anything?: Taco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When was the last time you...&lt;br /&gt;Burped: Just now! w00t!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Laughed: In the kitchen when mom was making fun of me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Showered: Last night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Vacuumed: *shrugs*&lt;br /&gt;Went to school: Today *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;Cried: Last week&lt;br /&gt;Turned on a light: When I walked in here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Threw something away: I CLEANED OUT MY BACKPACK WOOT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Did the dishes: Yesterday&lt;br /&gt;Did the laundry?: Yesterday&lt;br /&gt;Talked on the phone and who with: YEsterday, with Jessica&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Flunked a test: Last week xD&lt;br /&gt;Aced a test: Years ago.&lt;br /&gt;Broke something: Uhm.. Saturday&lt;br /&gt;Lost a tooth: forever ago&lt;br /&gt;Went swimming: Last year&lt;br /&gt;Went on a date: *sigh* Next.&lt;br /&gt;Ate something: Like 2 seconds ago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This or that...&lt;br /&gt;Powerade or Gatorade: Gatorade&lt;br /&gt;Sushi or chicken: Chicken&lt;br /&gt;IM or TV: IM&lt;br /&gt;MP3 or radio: It depends O.o&lt;br /&gt;Going on a date, or hanging out with your friends: Being anti-social&lt;br /&gt;Yahoo or hotmail: Yahoo&lt;br /&gt;1% or 2% milk?: 1/2%!&lt;br /&gt;South Park or The Simpsons: South Park&lt;br /&gt;Mary-Kate or Ashley (HA): Ewie neither&lt;br /&gt;BSB or N*sync? (HA): BSB ALL THE WAY BITCHES!&lt;br /&gt;Dog or cat: Horse&lt;br /&gt;French fries or potato chips: French fries&lt;br /&gt;Cola soft drinks or lemon-lime soft drinks: Dr. Pepper&lt;br /&gt;Panera or Frishes: wtf is frishes?&lt;br /&gt;Eating out or in: Out&lt;br /&gt;Crayons or colored pencils: CRAYONSS!!&lt;br /&gt;Mondays or Sundays: Sundays&lt;br /&gt;Saturdays or Fridays: Fridays&lt;br /&gt;Summer or fall: Fall&lt;br /&gt;Spring or winter: Spring&lt;br /&gt;TV or reading: Reading&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimate Opposite Sex Survey (for girls) --&lt;br /&gt;Your Favorite--&lt;br /&gt;Hair Color: Brown/black/dark&lt;br /&gt;Eye Color: Green, blue&lt;br /&gt;(Their)Music Genre Preference: Hard rock, metal, but will listen to country when im in the mood&lt;br /&gt;Height(estimate): 6'0" THEY HAVE! TO BE TALLER THAN ME&lt;br /&gt;Age: Older than me so 16 +&lt;br /&gt;Personality Type: Fun, outgoing, sweet, mysterious/dark ;)&lt;br /&gt;--This or That--&lt;br /&gt;Older or Younger: Older &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Romantic or Horndog: Romance all the way&lt;br /&gt;Smart or Stupid: Smart&lt;br /&gt;Fat or Skinny: I like them thicker&lt;br /&gt;Punk or Preppy: Punk&lt;br /&gt;The Big Picture or the Little Things: The teensy things&lt;br /&gt;Flowers/Candy or Big Expensive Present: A hug and a cute smile&lt;br /&gt;Mixtape or Burned CD: CD&lt;br /&gt;Love or Lust: Both&lt;br /&gt;Emotional or Just Not: Mix...they’re both such extremes alone&lt;br /&gt;Sincere or Jokester: Both&lt;br /&gt;Hott and mean or Ugly and sweet: hot and sweet&lt;br /&gt;Sexy or Just Cute: Cute&lt;br /&gt;Arse or Abs: Ehh abs&lt;br /&gt;Hair or Hands: Hands haha my fetish&lt;br /&gt;Dimples or Eyes: Dimples are cute, but im a eye gal&lt;br /&gt;Biceps or Calves/Thighs: Biceps ^^&lt;br /&gt;Teeth or Nose(some people are just weird): omg both&lt;br /&gt;Clean Shaven or Scruffy: Both ^^&lt;br /&gt;Rugged or Prim and Proper: Rugged&lt;br /&gt;Countryboy or Cityboy: ACCENT! OMG OMG OMG *melts*&lt;br /&gt;Date alone or With Friends: Alone&lt;br /&gt;Mama's Boy or Rebel Without A Cause: Rebel all the way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Have You Ever--&lt;br /&gt;Dumped a guy because he liked you too much: No&lt;br /&gt;Loved a guy because he stalked you: No&lt;br /&gt;Loved a guy because he hated you: No&lt;br /&gt;Asked your friend's crush out: No&lt;br /&gt;Lead a guy on for kicks: If I did, it was purely unintentional&lt;br /&gt;Asked a guy out purely because he was hot: No... that’s so shallow&lt;br /&gt;Flirted with guys even though you had a boyfriend: No&lt;br /&gt;Lied about not having a boyfriend: No&lt;br /&gt;Lied about having one: No&lt;br /&gt;Cheated: No&lt;br /&gt;Been Cheated on: No...&lt;br /&gt;Had a crush on a gay guy: No...but they’re so much fun to talk to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Their Clothing(yes/no)--&lt;br /&gt;Boxers?: Yes&lt;br /&gt;Briefs?: Yes&lt;br /&gt;Hat?: sometimes&lt;br /&gt;Skater Shoes?: If he must&lt;br /&gt;Pimp Shoes?: No&lt;br /&gt;Band Shirts?: Yes&lt;br /&gt;Vintage shirts?: Yes&lt;br /&gt;South Pole/other thug clothes..?: No&lt;br /&gt;Dixie Outfitters/Big Johnsons?: No&lt;br /&gt;Independent/DC?: Yes&lt;br /&gt;Jeans or Shorts?: Jeans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Be Honest--&lt;br /&gt;Would you ever date a guy for his money?: probably... thats so shallow i know&lt;br /&gt;Would you ever date a guy for his social status?: absolutley not&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever liked hanging out with your bf's friends more than him?: No&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever pretended to like somebody to make them feel better?: No&lt;br /&gt;Have you called a girl a whore, when you were screwing lots of guys?: No&lt;br /&gt;Do looks matter?: No&lt;br /&gt;Are you honestly scared of being dumped?: yes&lt;br /&gt;Do you avoid 'situations' with ugly guys?: No&lt;br /&gt;Are you ashamed to be seen with your ugly friends?: No&lt;br /&gt;Do you hide things from your crushes/guy friends/bf?: I hide things from everybody&lt;br /&gt;Do you lie about masturbation for attention or false innocence?: No&lt;br /&gt;Do you really want a guy to say if those jeans make your butt look fat?: If I ask, I want an honest answer...but I usually do not ask if my butt looks fat&lt;br /&gt;Are you disappointed when your bf doesn't say I love you right away?: No, I only ever want to hear that from one guy in my life, if that.&lt;br /&gt;Wanna be a virgin till marriage?: not really&lt;br /&gt;Do you really love the guys every time that you say it?: Well, if I ever decide to say it, I will certainly mean it&lt;br /&gt;Do you dream about your crushes/bfs/guy friends?: Sometimes&lt;br /&gt;Would you make out with a guy friend just to get it over with/curiosity?: No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random Thoughts For A Troubled Youth&lt;br /&gt;Name a song from your childhood: Lucky - Britney Spears&lt;br /&gt;What outfit would you wear for the rest of your life?: Jeans and my black hoodie&lt;br /&gt;Redheads, brunettes, or blondes?: Blondes!!&lt;br /&gt;Best advice ever given: I give a lot of good advice&lt;br /&gt;Last movie that made you cry: The notebook!&lt;br /&gt;Last song that made you cry: Hello Lonely&lt;br /&gt;Last person to make you cry: Secret.&lt;br /&gt;What brightens up your day?: Going out to the barn&lt;br /&gt;Biggest pet peeve?: The sloshy sound when someone chews&lt;br /&gt;Totally in love with someone? Uh, no.&lt;br /&gt;Do they know? ^^&lt;br /&gt;If no, would you ever tell them?^^^&lt;br /&gt;Worst trend?: WTF IS WITH THE LEG WARMERS! EW!&lt;br /&gt;What city do you hate the most?: Dunno&lt;br /&gt;Favorite solo artist?: Josh Groban&lt;br /&gt;Favorite band?: Theory of a deadman&lt;br /&gt;Band/artist that you love but wouldn't tell anyone: Uhm.. I still like BSB xD&lt;br /&gt;What was your last dream about?: I don't remember... by Kerry was in it&lt;br /&gt;How many pairs of shoes do you own? a few&lt;br /&gt;Which is your favorite?: SANDALS!&lt;br /&gt;Would you date someone on personality alone?: Yes&lt;br /&gt;Would you date someone on looks alone?: No&lt;br /&gt;Biggest obsession?: Romance stories&lt;br /&gt;Do you do any activities that none of your friends do?: dunno&lt;br /&gt;If yes, what is it?: Whoring. lol jk&lt;br /&gt;City life or country life?: counrty&lt;br /&gt;Ford or chevy?: FORD &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Would you ever kill someone?: Yes&lt;br /&gt;Ever met someone over the internet?: Yes, friends of friends&lt;br /&gt;When was the last time you rode a bike?: Uhh last summer?&lt;br /&gt;What is your dream car?: F650 Black Ford Truck&lt;br /&gt;Dream house?: The big blue one on North Zimmer, with the barn :)&lt;br /&gt;Are you keeping a secret right now?: Yes, several.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite place to travel to: Up North ^^&lt;br /&gt;Do you like Bob Dylan?: Who?&lt;br /&gt;Favorite material possession: I dunno&lt;br /&gt;Favorite non-material possession: My horses&lt;br /&gt;Would you date a good friend?: If I liked them&lt;br /&gt;Would you date a total stranger?: sure why not?&lt;br /&gt;Simpsons or Futurama?: Futurama&lt;br /&gt;What news channel do you watch?: Er.. none?&lt;br /&gt;Favorite drink: CHOCOLATE MILK!&lt;br /&gt;Organized or a mess?: Both at times&lt;br /&gt;Something weird about your hometown: ITS FILLED WITH WIGGERS!&lt;br /&gt;Something nobody knows about you: I read steamy romance novels ^_~ Haha Emily knows that&lt;br /&gt;Religion?: dont have one&lt;br /&gt;Turn ons?: Individuality, personality, intelligence, sense of humor&lt;br /&gt;Turn offs?: Laziness, shallowness, egotistical bastards&lt;br /&gt;Driver or passengers seat?: DRIVER!&lt;br /&gt;What song do you want playing at your funeral?: "Hello Lonely" by Theory of a Deadman. I adore it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114532147853418000?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114532147853418000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114532147853418000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114532147853418000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114532147853418000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-have-lot-of-time-on-my-hands.html' title=':) I have a lot of time on my hands'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114531258161169719</id><published>2006-04-17T18:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T18:23:01.636-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi. I'm Hilary...</title><content type='html'>BAAH! I DON'T WANT TO BE SINGLE ANYMORE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I might be the &lt;em&gt;only &lt;/em&gt;female in our High School that has yet to have a boyfriend. I BET EVEN MISTY POTTER HAS HAD ONE! I'm going to be untouched forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi. I'm Hilary. I like long walks on the beach when the sun is beginning to set. I like books, movies, video games, and most other things. I have been single forever. I don't do well in awkward situations and tend to avoid them. I don't normally let guys get close to me, granted they try to stay away. I'm friendly and outgoing, but apparently a little intimidating because I am 5'11"... and loud. But don't worry. I only bite when I'm on my period. Which is far too often. Call me. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114531258161169719?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114531258161169719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114531258161169719' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114531258161169719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114531258161169719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/04/hi-im-hilary.html' title='Hi. I&apos;m Hilary...'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114488612193402199</id><published>2006-04-12T19:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T22:16:54.870-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck it all.</title><content type='html'>Bad day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprise! Dad's already coming home from New Orleans. Absolutley fucking fantastic (insert sarcasm here). He is on his way home, and he wasn't even down there for a week. I know I should be sitting here typing about how excited I am that my dad is coming home, but I'm not going to lie. I &lt;strong&gt;don't want him to come home yet. &lt;/strong&gt;Life at home is so much easier without him here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have constant headaches from the smoke.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have to listen to him bitch.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have to help him on the computer.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have to clean up after him when I get home from school.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have to pretend to be listening when he talks to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it sounds all so selfish, but that's how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on top of it all. I started my period today. WONDERFUL! So now I get to drown myself in chocolate milk for the next week. Just what I need, huh? More fucking calories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114488612193402199?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114488612193402199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114488612193402199' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114488612193402199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114488612193402199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/04/fuck-it-all.html' title='Fuck it all.'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104717.post-114459576747892558</id><published>2006-04-09T11:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T11:16:28.590-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Haha.. Conflict SEEKING</title><content type='html'>I saw this in Katies blog, so I did it too :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;table style="BACKGROUND: #eeeeee; COLOR: black" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="0" bgcolor="#eeeeee" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#eeeeee"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Advanced Global Personality Test Results&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="4" cellpadding="0" bgcolor="#eeeeee" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table style="BACKGROUND: #dddddd; COLOR: black" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="0" bgcolor="#eeeeee" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/extraversion.html" target="_blank"&gt;Extraversion&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;63%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/stability.html" target="_blank"&gt;Stability&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;56%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/orderliness.html" target="_blank"&gt;Orderliness&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;50%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/accommodation.html" target="_blank"&gt;Accommodation&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;56%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/interdependence.html" target="_blank"&gt;Interdependence&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;56%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/intellectual.html" target="_blank"&gt;Intellectual&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;30%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/mystical.html" target="_blank"&gt;Mystical&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;50%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/artistic.html" target="_blank"&gt;Artistic&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;43%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/religious.html" target="_blank"&gt;Religious&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;16%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/hedonism.html" target="_blank"&gt;Hedonism&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;50%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/materialism.html" target="_blank"&gt;Materialism&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;50%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/narcissism.html" target="_blank"&gt;Narcissism&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;36%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/adventurousness.html" target="_blank"&gt;Adventurousness&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;50%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/workethic.html" target="_blank"&gt;Work ethic&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;56%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/selfabsorbed.html" target="_blank"&gt;Self absorbed&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;36%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/conflictseeking.html" target="_blank"&gt;Conflict seeking&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;63%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/needtodominate.html" target="_blank"&gt;Need to dominate&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;16%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table style="BACKGROUND: #dddddd; COLOR: black" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="0" bgcolor="#dddddd" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/romantic.html" target="_blank"&gt;Romantic&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;90%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/avoidant.html" target="_blank"&gt;Avoidant&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;56%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/antiauthority.html" target="_blank"&gt;Anti-authority&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;50%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/wealth.html" target="_blank"&gt;Wealth&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;30%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/dependency.html" target="_blank"&gt;Dependency&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;30%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/changeaverse.html" target="_blank"&gt;Change averse&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;30%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/cautiousness.html" target="_blank"&gt;Cautiousness&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;23%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/individuality.html" target="_blank"&gt;Individuality&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;36%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/sexuality.html" target="_blank"&gt;Sexuality&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;50%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/peterpancomplex.html" target="_blank"&gt;Peter pan complex&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;63%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/physicalsecurity.html" target="_blank"&gt;Physical security&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;70%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/physicalfitness.html" target="_blank"&gt;Physical Fitness&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;44%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/histrionic.html" target="_blank"&gt;Histrionic&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;43%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/paranoia.html" target="_blank"&gt;Paranoia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;23%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/vanity.html" target="_blank"&gt;Vanity&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;36%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/hypersensitivity.html" target="_blank"&gt;Hypersensitivity&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;50%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/types/femalecliche.html" target="_blank"&gt;Female cliche&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="61"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width="30"&gt;63%&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;a href="&lt;a"&gt;Take&lt;/a&gt; Free Advanced Global Personality Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;a href="&lt;a"&gt;personality&lt;/a&gt; tests by similarminds.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9104717-114459576747892558?l=sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/feeds/114459576747892558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9104717&amp;postID=114459576747892558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114459576747892558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9104717/posts/default/114459576747892558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sweetiehh4000.blogspot.com/2006/04/haha-conflict-seeking.html' title='Haha.. Conflict SEEKING'/><author><name>Hilary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05025660022271723543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yoLoLvsTbbU/Tl25g3NlkaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/kFrfs_OpO0Q/s220/311550_1938720868822_1266390190_31708657_5528533_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
