<?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-4343312951053600526</id><updated>2011-09-30T08:18:51.397-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah, that's something I'd say.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>74</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-7367271360968622036</id><published>2011-08-19T10:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T10:52:59.603-05:00</updated><title type='text'>appled mouth</title><content type='html'>At this point in my life, I've stopped being surprised by the most ridiculous things happening. Sometimes I wish I could crawl in a hole and never come out. I don't want to not exist, I just want to exist in a place where no one can bother me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my friends and I love my family, but sometimes I just want to run away from everything. I am happiest lately when I don't have to think about my relationship problems. The problem is I can't not think about them when I hang out with Zach but I also really enjoy spending time with him. What do you do when your best friend is the person you're kind of upset with all of the time? I'm not upset at him, I'm upset with this situation. It's emotionally draining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blah. At this point I don't know what to feel or think. I wish I could turn off all my feelings forever and just be a robot person. I don't think that's a thing but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-7367271360968622036?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/7367271360968622036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/08/appled-mouth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7367271360968622036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7367271360968622036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/08/appled-mouth.html' title='appled mouth'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-52110749630829711</id><published>2011-04-01T00:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T00:55:13.049-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I could turn.</title><content type='html'>Well things are better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't wake up sad anymore. I have a cat to sleep with. I know that sounds pathetic, but it really helps to not be completely alone at the apartment. I am still not used to coming home and not seeing/talking to Zach. Lucille is making it easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been hanging out with friends a lot and staying up too late. I need to get back to a normal sleep schedule. It's starting become a problem in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each day brings new challenges. I can't help but miss him but if it's gotten this much better this soon, I know it will be all the way ok eventually. Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-52110749630829711?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/52110749630829711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-could-turn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/52110749630829711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/52110749630829711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-could-turn.html' title='I could turn.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-9214444087821168932</id><published>2011-03-21T09:06:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T10:57:32.569-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And in that moment my heart broke into a million pieces.</title><content type='html'>I kind of wish I would just disappear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to keep moving. I don't know how to take a shower and eat and go to class.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to not think about how much I still love him. I don't know how to wake up alone and not start crying.I don't know how to not remember all the times he said he would be here for a long time. I don't know if I'll be able to open up to anyone like I did with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it will hurt for a long time but not forever. I know I will find happiness. I know that he values me as a friend and a part of his life. I know that this is hard for us both. I know everything will be ok. It has to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck. This hurts so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-9214444087821168932?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/9214444087821168932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/03/and-in-that-moment-my-heart-broke-into.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/9214444087821168932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/9214444087821168932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/03/and-in-that-moment-my-heart-broke-into.html' title='And in that moment my heart broke into a million pieces.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-9179403632369250618</id><published>2011-03-10T13:50:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T13:57:58.333-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things to be happy about:</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I got an A- on my watercolor midterm without doing one of my paintings&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Going to get a big paycheck after this long week of work&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Buying a car very soon&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Easy midterms in Pilates and Walking&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Watching The Cosby Show and it's always great&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm lucky that when bad stuff happen to me (or my car) my wonderful, sweet boyfriend is always there wanting to help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I am not really looking forward to Colorado, but it's whatever. I'm going to miss hanging out with Zach and my friends :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I'm getting paid and I don't have to drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;À &lt;em&gt;Bientôt!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-9179403632369250618?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/9179403632369250618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/03/things-to-be-happy-about.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/9179403632369250618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/9179403632369250618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/03/things-to-be-happy-about.html' title='Things to be happy about:'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3354262650370015345</id><published>2011-02-04T20:44:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T20:55:29.521-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Poor.</title><content type='html'>I'm not really poor. Just kind of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to not get sad about it but I can't help it sometimes. I just wish that I could afford to do things that I want to do without having to feel bad because I owe money all over the place or I need to save for a car or pay for my current car or pay for books or supplies or groceries, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to try to be good with my "regular" money so that maybe I can take my tax return, spend it on a tattoo (or half of one) and not feel bad about it. I still need to save but I'm doing an ok job so far. I just want to be able to relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This car stuff is stressing me out so much. Stress stress stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what I want tattooed next:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want it in black a&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/TUy7N0cGvnI/AAAAAAAAAJw/Zpu8mNmjEBA/s1600/prett%2Bsummer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 162px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/TUy7N0cGvnI/AAAAAAAAAJw/Zpu8mNmjEBA/s320/prett%2Bsummer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570032685239680626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;nd grey. I think. I have a while to think about it I guess. I think I could swing the outline with my refund and maybe a little extra. I dunno.&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3354262650370015345?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3354262650370015345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/02/poor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3354262650370015345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3354262650370015345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/02/poor.html' title='Poor.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/TUy7N0cGvnI/AAAAAAAAAJw/Zpu8mNmjEBA/s72-c/prett%2Bsummer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-971299341133924493</id><published>2011-01-01T17:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T17:35:51.720-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Well.</title><content type='html'>Everything is all over the place out of nowhere. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know things can get better, but right now I can't help but be scared. I don't know what to do when he is sad. I feel like I'll just make things worse if I try to comfort him. I hate to see anyone I love upset, but I especially hate it when it's him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know what to do but be supportive without being overbearing. I'm trying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My family is driving me crazy and for the first time in 3 years it's not my mom. My dad's arrogance makes my blood boil. He had the nerve to forward an email from my mom to me, Pauline, and Sarah. The worst part is he says "No comment" as if she's just spouting off crazy talk and we're supposed to side with him! Her email was 100 percent justified. She wasn't unfair in any way. She said the same thing she's been saying since I was 3 concerning his non-payment of child support. It's true and there is legal documentation to prove it. I want to just cut off all ties with my dad until he is (or isn't) elected president of DRC. If elected, I will congratulate him and wish him the best and cut off ties with him. If not, I'll just continue to not talk to him. I refuse to go to Atlanta ever again. His wife is a bitch and I don't want to sleep in her house again. She's so negative and rude and I am not dealing with her anymore. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On another note, I think I know what I want to do with my life. Well, sort of. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to work really hard in ceramics (and all of my other classes) this semester so I can feel confident officially calling it my major. Then I want to graduate from UNT and get my masters in ceramics somewhere else. That's all I have so far. I don't like to plan it out too much since it's not like life goes along with plans. Ideally, I will be able to teach ceramics at the college level at some point. Who knows?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to feel like I did last spring. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4343312951053600526-971299341133924493?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/971299341133924493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/01/well.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/971299341133924493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/971299341133924493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2011/01/well.html' title='Well.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-5879999175966682784</id><published>2010-11-27T16:54:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T17:14:15.979-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tomato. Basil. Soup. Heaven,</title><content type='html'>Zach and I watched Night of the Living Dead last night. I really liked it, but it bummed me out at the very end. I understand why it ended the way it did, but I can't help but be a little bummed. After that we watched Mulholland Drive. It was my first David Lynch movie. I enjoyed it a lot, but I couldn't see myself watching one of his weirder, more unsettling movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a fun day off of work, but tomorrow I need to get shit accomplished. I haven't had a Saturday off in months so it was hard to do anything but sit around and watch Starship Troopers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait till this semester is over. I hate working on research papers and studying and making stupid ceramic things (ceramics isn't stupid, this one specific project is really stupid).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COMPLAIN  COMPLAIN COMPLAIN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zach is making tomato basil and paninis for dinner so today is about to get awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-5879999175966682784?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/5879999175966682784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/11/tomato-basil-soup-heaven.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/5879999175966682784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/5879999175966682784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/11/tomato-basil-soup-heaven.html' title='Tomato. Basil. Soup. Heaven,'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-806900272889277978</id><published>2010-11-04T14:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T14:31:20.124-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Not so shitty.</title><content type='html'>Today is not so shitty. I'm going to work soon, so it has the chance to get a little shitty. Right now it's ok though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been watching so much Say Yes to the Dress lately. I don't even like this show! I miss cable :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. That's it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-806900272889277978?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/806900272889277978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/11/not-so-shitty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/806900272889277978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/806900272889277978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/11/not-so-shitty.html' title='Not so shitty.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-6605036982987555</id><published>2010-10-25T20:53:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T21:16:17.110-05:00</updated><title type='text'>At least that burrito was pretty tasty.</title><content type='html'>I've been feeling really down for the past month or so. Lately I feel like everything I do is wrong and that I'm stupid and that I should drop out of school and become a hermit. I can't stop thinking like that and things keep blowing up and making it worse and it's like too much to handle. I get mad at myself for all the mistakes I've made (and keep making) this semester and they just keep piling up and I can't stop thinking about them.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't look at my syllabus for my online class for a week and I missed an essay that's worth 150 of our total 1000 points that we can get in the semester. I emailed my professor and she said I can turn it in for 15% point reduction, but that's fine with me. I wish I were more responsible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's so strange because with all the things that suck right now, work has gotten easier. I think I'm just used to it now and I'm working like 6 hours at a time instead of 8 or 10. I am adding on an extra day every other week to help with the fact that I'm broke. That extra $40 a paycheck should help with my cell phone bill that I'll be paying now. I almost want to just cancel it and get one of those lame local phone companies that charge like $30 for unlimited texting, internet, and minutes. Those stink when you travel (because they usually don't work), but I don't think I can afford this Verizon bill along with all this other shit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My financial aid has still not come in and it's hard to stay positive when I'm broke the day after my paychecks get to the bank. It's hard not to be sad when I think about all the stupid stuff my mom is doing. I can't talk to her right now. I don't know when I'll talk to her, but I can't for a while. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel like I'm just going to shut down at some point. I'm so tired of thinking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4343312951053600526-6605036982987555?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6605036982987555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6605036982987555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/10/at-least-that-burrito-was-pretty-tasty.html' title='At least that burrito was pretty tasty.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-5011989902424897547</id><published>2010-10-14T00:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T00:55:58.378-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sticks to my Tongue.</title><content type='html'>I wrote a chorus a few weeks ago to a song that I've been playing on the guitar for months and I liked it until tonight when I wrote a verse that I like that is a completely different story. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Midterm critique is next week. I'm nervous, but I know that a bunch of people are going to be behind. I'm gonna try my hardest (except for tonight because I took a test and I deserve a break) to work on my stuff every night until Monday. I also have to squeeze in bringing all my crap up to school at some point before then and putting glaze on all my test tiles before Saturday. STRESS. STRESS. STRESS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, things are weird lately. I yelled at my mom for like an hour this past Saturday night. It was so stressful and I kept crying after we hung up. Zach took me out on a date and it was really nice. Things were ok on Sunday until about 1 in the morning and I got upset about some stuff and Zach and I got into a thing (not a fight, just like a discussion). We didn't really stop talking until things calmed down and I wasn't upset when I went to sleep. I haven't talked to my mom since Saturday. I don't really want to anyway. I can't deal with her right now. It's like, I've told her what I think and so has Sarah and now it's up to her to make some decisions for her mental health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister texted me on Monday with possibly bad news. The plan that I made for my birthday was for the 4 of us (Sarah, Jay, Zach, and me) to go to San Antonio and stay on the Riverwalk for like 2 days. Sarah said that the plan is kind of on hold now because Jay might have basketball practice during the week we were going. It really sucks because I need to see my sister. I miss her so much it hurts. I'll be pretty bummed if this doesn't work out. I wanted to get out of Denton and have some fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying (and failing) to be in a good mood, but it's like so frustrating and hard to not know what the plan is. I think I'll just sleep till November.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-5011989902424897547?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/5011989902424897547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/10/sticks-to-my-tongue.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/5011989902424897547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/5011989902424897547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/10/sticks-to-my-tongue.html' title='Sticks to my Tongue.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-6284346033640073755</id><published>2010-09-26T00:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T01:10:30.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love is you.</title><content type='html'>Tonight Zach and I went on a date. I'm glad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a long time since we've gone on a date with a "capital D." We mostly get take out and eat on the couch and watch movies or tv. I like doing that, don't get me wrong, but it's nice to go out and sit across from each other and talk. To borrow a line from Endless Love (I'm listening to it right now) &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"You[Zach] mean[s] the world to me.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm all about the cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm listening to some Luther Vandross because he's amazing. I've known this for a long time, but I haven't ever listened to him on my own time and on purpose. I forgot how much I like r &amp;amp; b music. My cd player in my car broke a few weeks ago so I've been listening to the radio a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow will be a work filled day, unfortunately. Oh well. I gotta start getting shit accomplished in ceramics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-6284346033640073755?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/6284346033640073755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/09/love-is-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6284346033640073755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6284346033640073755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/09/love-is-you.html' title='Love is you.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-7641983168723421914</id><published>2010-09-16T13:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T14:03:23.412-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Details.</title><content type='html'>I've made some stupid mistakes, but this one is pretty bad. The good news is that I originally wanted to be in only 9 hours this semester, the bad news is that I have to take 15 hours next semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get really worked up and upset when stuff like this happens. Zach tried to calm me down and at first I was just too frustrated and felt so stupid that it wasn't really helping. Eventually, I stopped crying and stated feeling better. He's so attentive and comforting and I love him for being there for me all the time, even when I'm a baby about stuff. I don't know where I would be without him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait till all of this is sorted out. I can't wait till things get back to normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to eat some ice cream and relax for an afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeesh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-7641983168723421914?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/7641983168723421914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/09/details.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7641983168723421914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7641983168723421914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/09/details.html' title='Details.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-8324799540610849799</id><published>2010-09-14T00:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T00:31:30.065-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Change of plans.</title><content type='html'>I'm not getting a sleeve dedicated to Le Petit Prince anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't fret, Camille. I'm still going to get one or two of the pictures from that book somewhere on my body. Probably the boa-constructor with the elephant inside or the sheep in the box. Or both. Or I dunno. I definitely still want something somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I changed my mind after about a month of thinking about it. I really, really liked the picture of a Little Prince half-sleeve I found online BUT the problem is that I don't want to steal that guy's design. It's so perfect the way he put it all together. I feel like if I just rearranged things, I'll remember what that guy's tattoo looks like and I'll be jealous forever. Ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaanyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting a half sleeve of an illustration from a far less well known and recognized children's book called We Were Tired of Living in a House by Liesel Moak Skorpen (that book I talked about in my last post that Zach bought for me as a gift out of the blue because he's sweet).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story is very simple. I love it though. It's like,  just because it's for children doesn't mean that it can't be written with beautiful descriptions. It's like a poem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The challenge now will be patience and saving and making good grades. I'm excited!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-8324799540610849799?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/8324799540610849799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/09/change-of-plans.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8324799540610849799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8324799540610849799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/09/change-of-plans.html' title='Change of plans.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-1415728350889800031</id><published>2010-09-12T02:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T02:45:09.874-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Goats.</title><content type='html'>I went to Rocky Horror last night. I had a good time mostly because of getting to hang with people. The cast was mostly just annoying and not very funny. Camille and I got to hang with Victor for a little while after the show and that was nice. We're going to bake a double layer yellow cake with chocolate icing. I'm so excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home at 4 am and slept till 2pm. That was the first time in a long time that I've slept in that late. It's always weird when that happens. I have felt weird all day and I feel like that had a lot to do with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zach and I made waffles for dinner and watched The Men Who Stare at Goats. We have officially been in a relationship for 9 months today. I can't imagine what my life would be like without him in it. He's so wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting pretty sleepy and I have to work tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-1415728350889800031?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/1415728350889800031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/09/goats.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1415728350889800031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1415728350889800031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/09/goats.html' title='Goats.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-8251687471366523655</id><published>2010-09-02T17:34:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T17:48:33.913-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So it begins.</title><content type='html'>We started to do things in ceramics yesterday. It was fun and I'm excited to learn more, but my wrist pain is already coming back after one class period. I really need to start wearing those braces for a few hours a day. I'm not excited to do this free for all project for the teacher to see our skill level. I think I just remembered that I'm not very good at creating things that I think up. I need to work being more disciplined and not giving up on stuff just because it's hard. I'll never get any better at ceramics that way. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This weekend, or tonight, I'll be meeting two of Zach's best friends. I'm mostly excited but a little nervous at the same time. It's like I've heard about them for nearly a year and it's weird thinking about hearing their voices for the first time. I've seen lots of pictures. Anyway. I sound like a weirdo so I'm going to change the subject.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really want to buy this book off of Amazon that my mom had when I was a little kid. It got all old and the pages were falling out and I don't even know if she has it anymore. I want my own copy because I've always loved the illustrations and the story was pretty much my fantasy when I was little. It's called We Were Tired of Living in a House. I looked it up and there is a stupid new version with the same stories but lame pictures. I want the original from 1969. It's so much better. I can't wait till I have an extra $20+ s&amp;amp;h.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next payday?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-8251687471366523655?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/8251687471366523655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/09/so-it-begins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8251687471366523655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8251687471366523655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/09/so-it-begins.html' title='So it begins.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4497073829459390990</id><published>2010-08-31T22:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T22:18:28.674-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Beware: Children at Play.</title><content type='html'>That had to be one of the better, awful movies I've watched in a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just watch &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAt7eqmzxGU"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is much fuller and has more meaning.&lt;br /&gt;hahhahhahah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-4497073829459390990?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4497073829459390990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/caution-children-at-play.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4497073829459390990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4497073829459390990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/caution-children-at-play.html' title='Beware: Children at Play.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-8494514692240329632</id><published>2010-08-27T00:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T00:10:55.449-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This day.</title><content type='html'>I feel like complaining about today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll spare you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been an expensive headache of a day. I cried on the phone too many times. I got home and things are better now, but my eyes are all sore and red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like, I'm trying to be happy and calm and forget about the shitty, shitty day that kept getting worse, until it got better and then got worse again, and luckily, better at the very end, but I can't completely because of my dumb eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I gotta sleep soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-8494514692240329632?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/8494514692240329632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/this-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8494514692240329632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8494514692240329632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/this-day.html' title='This day.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-2498371779401286222</id><published>2010-08-24T11:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T11:35:35.824-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Business.</title><content type='html'>Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched a documentary called The Business of Being Born. It was really informative, which I guess is the point of documentaries. It showed all the advantages of using a midwife and natural birth vs all the disadvantages of hospital interventions. It was scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like something this natural has to be done in a natural way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-2498371779401286222?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/2498371779401286222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/business.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/2498371779401286222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/2498371779401286222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/business.html' title='The Business.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4380751366937101291</id><published>2010-08-17T16:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T16:33:57.535-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank god summer is ending.</title><content type='html'>I'm so glad my fall schedule is set in stone. I was really worried I wasn't going to get into classes I wanted.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, I got two A's and one B in my summer school classes. Too bad I didn't try harder in government. It's whatever. I'm satisfied. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm getting a tattoo soon as a celebration. I keep flip flopping on my little man idea, so I think I'm gonna hold off on that one and just get my cuckoo clock outlined. I mean, I know that I want that one for sure. I don't wanna rush the other one if I'm indecisive about it. Plus, since we're going on vacation for Thanksgiving/my birthday, I won't be getting the cuckoo clock in November. I need to be saving money for San Antonio. So this is like a combo of good grades+early birthday present to myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I  can't wait!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I weighed myself this morning at work and I was 4 lbs less than it said I was the other day with about the same amount of heavy clothes on (jeans and chucks). So that makes me feel  a little better. I'm not usually a scale worrier, but I was upset the other day after I got on it. I am going to try my hardest to do this pilates video on Netflix a few times a week until school starts up again. I feel better and more awake after I do it. I want to continue when school starts, but we're going to be going to the gym also, so I'll cut back on the tape. I dunno. It wouldn't hurt to do both. One is more about stretching and cardio and at the gym we usually just do cardio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4343312951053600526-4380751366937101291?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4380751366937101291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/thank-god-summer-is-ending.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4380751366937101291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4380751366937101291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/thank-god-summer-is-ending.html' title='Thank god summer is ending.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-8410842129972783178</id><published>2010-08-13T11:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-13T11:25:20.592-05:00</updated><title type='text'>El sueño de la razón produce monstruos.</title><content type='html'>I want to get a celebration tattoo after I get my final grades next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting an A in a non-studio class or English class is a big deal for me.&lt;br /&gt;The highest grade I think I've gotten in a class like this (in college) is a C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to get "The sleep of reason produces monsters." somewhere on my body. I haven't decided if I want to use the space that I originally wanted to get my little man tattoo or put it on my leg like beside my knee. I feel like it'll look kind of random there, but I don't want it on my foot and I don't want it on my back. As far as getting it on my inner left arm, I'm scared because it's going to hurt like a bitch and if I use up that space, there's no good place for my little man. I need to think about this some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying not to feel so sad about being super heavy, but it's hard. I gained a lot of weight since last summer and it really bums me out. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to get back on track with stuff. This shouldn't even be an issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to take my Art History final. Summer school is almost over!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-8410842129972783178?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/8410842129972783178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/el-sueno-de-la-razon-produce-monstruos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8410842129972783178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8410842129972783178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/el-sueno-de-la-razon-produce-monstruos.html' title='El sueño de la razón produce monstruos.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3160674076415878610</id><published>2010-08-08T20:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T20:22:47.089-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Concerning the UFO sighting near Highland, Illinois</title><content type='html'>Zach and I have finally made it to our new apartment. I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On occasion I will miss the soccer players and the whistles on Sunday morning. I will miss the regular sized stove and oven. I will miss the balcony. I have good memories from that apartment and I'm sure Zach has more, but I'm really excited about this new place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the red door. I love the old wood paneling. I love the office and my desk. I love the bedroom window. I love all the closet space. I love that my rats have a nook for their cage. I love that the livingroom is cozy. I love the super friendly cat that takes naps under the stairs outside of our front door. Most of all, I love that this place is our place. It feels really good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Zach and I love Denton and I love life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm mad I have to write this stupid paper, but soon I'll be eating mother fucking Wingstop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a lovely evening!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3160674076415878610?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3160674076415878610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/concerning-ufo-sighting-near-highland.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3160674076415878610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3160674076415878610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/08/concerning-ufo-sighting-near-highland.html' title='Concerning the UFO sighting near Highland, Illinois'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4507190620144043065</id><published>2010-07-27T21:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T22:20:18.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ghost of Human Kindness.</title><content type='html'>Saturday night I went to a birthday party with Laura. It was alright but we decided we wanted to get going. We go out to my car to find that I didn't have a handle on my door. I know I had one when we got there because I had to roll down my window and use the outside handle to get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so some asshole was either trying to break in to my car or was just being an asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to get that fixed today. It cost $50 for the outside handle and $35 for the inside and $40 for labor. I've been pretty bumbed for the past few days. I didn't notice till I was on my way to work that the guy fixed my other handle on the passenger side. I don't know if he was just bored or if he got the extra handle for cheap, but it should've cost me an extra $35 but it didn't show up on the bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it still sucks but I'm feeling better since the guy fixed both doors. That was nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know I was going to have an Art History test tomorrow. I'm a little stressed but I know it'll be ok. I wont totally bomb but I probably wont get another 97.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-4507190620144043065?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4507190620144043065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/07/ghost-of-human-kindness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4507190620144043065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4507190620144043065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/07/ghost-of-human-kindness.html' title='The Ghost of Human Kindness.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-8828880858199539860</id><published>2010-07-20T16:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-20T17:12:22.948-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Discovery Health.</title><content type='html'>I was on facebook and I saw an update from the discovery health page and it said that short term goals are the key to making successful life changes. I like that.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm going to set better short term goals. I feel like it'll be easier to stay motivated if the reward isn't like in the distant future. I feel like I was doing really well in my first week of summer school and then I started slacking off a little this week. I want to get high grades in these classes to try to fix my GPA and to just force better studying/note taking/listening in class habits. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't want to be bad at college anymore. I know I can be better. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish It were August already. There is so much stuff that I'm looking forward to. I got the duvet/insert that I've wanted for a loooooong time in the mail yesterday. It's really pretty and soft and I love it. I can't wait to get a new computer and cs5. It's only like $230 with my school ID. I can't even believe that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm mostly excited to finally be living with Zach for real. I've lived "with" him for the past 7 months but now we'll finally be in an apartment that we picked together. I feel like I keep bringing this up, but it's getting so close. I can't wait!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4343312951053600526-8828880858199539860?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/8828880858199539860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/07/discovery-health.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8828880858199539860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8828880858199539860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/07/discovery-health.html' title='Discovery Health.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-2322180972703338043</id><published>2010-07-17T12:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-17T13:24:23.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodfellows.</title><content type='html'>So I got a message on myspace (yes, I still use myspace sometimes) from this recording studio in Dallas and I listened to some of their samples and I'm kind of interested in booking a recording session. The only problem is money. It's kind of an expensive venture, so I feel like I have to get everything on my end (voice and guitar stuff) like perfect. I don't want to waste time there working out kinks when I'm paying by the hour.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm gonna call the guy and figure out what kind of session I want and how much it will be and maybe book it for like September or October. I'd really like some good recordings of my stuff since all the old ones are like crazy rough and my voice isn't as mature. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to eat healthier. I'm getting better at avoiding fast food but I still eat junk at home. Those stupid Klondike bars are so good. I got some new workout clothes in the hopes of inspiring me to work out more often. I got up late this morning but still did this pilates video for about 20 minutes. I really really wanted to stay in bed, but I'm glad I forced myself to get up. I need to start doing something "exercisey" every day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway. We found a place to live. Now I have to be patient until August 5th or so. I am so excited. It's weird to think about how far away August it seemed in February when we first talked about moving in together and now it's like less than a month away! Things are moving at the exact speed that they need to be and everything is great. I am a very lucky lady to have someone like him around. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm hanging out with Ms. West today. I am looking forward to seeing her. I don't always make time to hang with friends even though I love them all. This will be good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4343312951053600526-2322180972703338043?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/2322180972703338043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/07/goodfellows.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/2322180972703338043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/2322180972703338043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/07/goodfellows.html' title='Goodfellows.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3356881388704149999</id><published>2010-06-27T01:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T12:05:41.544-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And I wondered if I'd see another highway.</title><content type='html'>I'm baby sitting again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel like I'm going to be a baby sitter for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do about my jaw. It has been giving me crap for the past hour. I'm terrified of going to a doctor because I think the only thing that can fix it will be something painful, expensive, or both. The pain and the clicking is interfering with my life to a point where I feel like I really do need to get it looked at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've been doing a lot of working and that's about it. Since Maymester ended, I've been working 40 hours a week instead of 26. Working on the 12 hour days bums me out sometimes. Overall I like my job but it gets lonely and stressful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hung out with a friend I made in summer school for a bit last night. It was kind of fun, but I would like to do it over in a different setting. I am not big into parties like that anymore. I don't really think I ever was. I just went to stuff because what else was there to do, right? I don't have a hard time talking to strangers so when I go somewhere and don't feel like I fit in, it's hard for me to understand. I feel all weird and threatened and then I just want to leave. I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so paranoid sometimes. I feel like I'm going to smother Zach. I know he likes when I'm around, but lately I feel like I've been like crazy needy every time I'm home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm stressed out because I haven't been able to write a decent song in months. When I try to write, it's like I'm trying to explain something while being strangled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what this post is even supposed to be about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3356881388704149999?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3356881388704149999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/06/and-i-wondered-if-id-see-another.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3356881388704149999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3356881388704149999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/06/and-i-wondered-if-id-see-another.html' title='And I wondered if I&apos;d see another highway.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-1952043061880725967</id><published>2010-06-06T12:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T17:47:40.709-05:00</updated><title type='text'>videogames.</title><content type='html'>Ate breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;Watched Zach play video games.&lt;br /&gt;Looked at stuff on the internet.&lt;br /&gt;Ate lunch.&lt;br /&gt;Watched Venture Bros.&lt;br /&gt;Looked at stuff on the internet.&lt;br /&gt;Zach is showering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to the grocery store to get things to make hamburgers with.&lt;br /&gt;Huzzah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel kind of sick today. I think it's because I've been inside all day. I want a popsicle and sunglasses that I can wear over my regular glasses. Or maybe just contacts and regular sunglasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my first day of summer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-1952043061880725967?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/1952043061880725967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/06/videogames.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1952043061880725967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1952043061880725967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/06/videogames.html' title='videogames.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-7976572997510971294</id><published>2010-06-04T14:29:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T14:44:55.852-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts.</title><content type='html'>1. The problem with people like him is that he thinks he's hot so he has a whole photo album on facebook filled with pictures of himself. It's gross. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. I hate the Millionaires (the band) and all of their music.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. I think I'm starting to like dermal anchors now but I don't know what to do about it. I'm worried that certain people that I care deeply for will not care much for me getting them. I dunno. It's something that I'd like to try, but I don't want to gross anyone out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. The reality show Pretty Wild is the biggest load of horse shit I've ever seen on TV.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. I wish I could go visit states on the west coast. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Embroidering is more fun and time consuming that I thought it would be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. I can't wait to go to Disney World in a few weeks, but I know I'll miss Zach terribly. Hmmft.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. I don't want to eat Cici's for dinner tonight at work but I'm going to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. I'm really tired of being fat. I gained SO MUCH WEIGHT in the past few months and I'm sick of feeling gross. I miss liking the way I look.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. I miss naps. When do I get to do that again?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-RK&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-7976572997510971294?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/7976572997510971294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/06/thoughtscomplaints.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7976572997510971294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7976572997510971294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/06/thoughtscomplaints.html' title='Thoughts.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-1642514474870078861</id><published>2010-05-27T20:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T20:45:47.922-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More tattoos &gt;:(</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I just want to get my tattoos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was patient and waited till the end of the semester to get my little man tattoo and then I got in a car accident. I wish I didn't owe crap tons of money to the government, also. I might just have to wait till my birthday. Then I can go nuts. I usually get the big ones then anyway. I want to get my cuckoo clock/sunflowers in November. Either that or I want to start my half sleeve. I wish I could just blow a crap ton of money on all this right now. I need a change. It's time for something new.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I owe money all over the place. I know it's important to pay everything off/back, but I wish I could just be irresponsible and have it not come back to bite me in the end.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know I just need to be patient, but it's hard. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;UGH!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-1642514474870078861?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/1642514474870078861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/05/more-tattoos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1642514474870078861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1642514474870078861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/05/more-tattoos.html' title='More tattoos &gt;:('/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4489056130465941402</id><published>2010-05-20T17:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T17:44:34.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Days like these.</title><content type='html'>On days that I wake up at 8:45 when I have class at 8:30 and I am being graded on attendance and I have to miss breakfast and it's hard to find a parking spot that's not 12 minutes away and it will make me late for work if I park at my apartment and ride the bus to school and then back to my apartment after class to get my car and drive straight to work I am very glad to have Zach in my life. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He gave me a ride to class and brought me coffee and lunch when he came to bring me to my car and gave me money to park in the parking garage so that I wouldn't have to be late back to class after our break. He is so good to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been really bummed lately because of the portfolio review and my grades. I'm just so tired of school.  I really wish I could just take a few months off but it's like not even an option. The Emerald Eagle program is only good for 4 years and I've taken 2 so far. If I took time off, I think I wouldn't have that scholarship anymore and that would be a wasted opportunity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Blargh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, today started off bad but it's getting better. Work is going pretty ok right now and Chris has Special Olympics swim practice tonight so that should be fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4343312951053600526-4489056130465941402?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4489056130465941402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/05/days-like-these.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4489056130465941402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4489056130465941402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/05/days-like-these.html' title='Days like these.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3189396043527753677</id><published>2010-05-11T15:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T15:21:18.517-05:00</updated><title type='text'>.</title><content type='html'>So I didn't pass my portfolio review. I'm incredibly bummed, but I know there is no use being sad forever. I tried my hardest and I wanted it (bad) but it just didn't work out this time around. I can always try next year, but I don't know if I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's going to be alright, but I keep feeling like I'm just going to burst out into tears. I just want to have a good last week of school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately life is shitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I have people around me to make me feel better. I'm very thankful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I gotta go to work soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3189396043527753677?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3189396043527753677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3189396043527753677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3189396043527753677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html' title='.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-1429205012442886793</id><published>2010-05-08T11:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T11:41:42.971-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmm.</title><content type='html'>So I got an email from my dad yesterday about him getting accepted into Harvard. It also said that he's running for president of the DRC (Democrartic Rep. of Congo) in 2011.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't really know how to react. It's like hard to be proud of him for getting into Harvard when I'm in school now and I'm not receiving like any help from him. In the email it was asking for money for school. I know he sent it to like everyone he knows, but it bothered me that he sent me one asking for money when lord knows I've been needing his help this whole time I've been in college.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know what I'm supposed to say to my mom about it because I don't want her to get all mad about it and give me the same speech about him that she always gives me. I know that he's a bad father. I know that he should be helping, that it's his job. I've heard it all for 17 years of my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm pretty upset about this because it puts me in a weird place. I don't want to keep info from my mom, but I also don't want to get yelled at when it's his decisions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As for the election, I'd be proud of him if he won because the Congo needs a lot of changes and I feel that he really cares about the people there. It's a weird situation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If he wins, he'll have to move to Africa. I don't know how that would really affect our relationship. We don't talk often as it is, but we're getting better. We at least text. To know that he wouldn't be around is kind of upsetting. I mean, I know we aren't like super close, but he's still my dad and I would be a little worried if he were president. I don't want him to be in danger. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ahhh fart. I don't even know what to think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4343312951053600526-1429205012442886793?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/1429205012442886793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/05/hmm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1429205012442886793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1429205012442886793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/05/hmm.html' title='Hmm.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-7899057450681532666</id><published>2010-04-29T10:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T10:52:55.765-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Caretaker.</title><content type='html'>I think I'm in love with Laura Stevenson and The Cans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fantastic music. Ahhh. I makes me want to kick myself for not being able to write songs like this. I mean, it's hard to like things that I write when I listen to stuff like &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VopERDGbhGw"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zach doesn't want me to mention that he is playing video games because he says that every blog entry I have mentions it. He says that I'm making it seem like all he does is play video games and that he is a talented individual with important things going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, he's playing video games (and sneezing because of his allergies) and I'm thinking about summer. I just want to be able to practice guitar more often than I am right now. I played for like 5 hours yesterday. It was really nice to just push aside things that I needed to get done and just do something that I enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed that after the way this week started.&lt;br /&gt;Things will get better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-7899057450681532666?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/7899057450681532666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/04/caretaker.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7899057450681532666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7899057450681532666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/04/caretaker.html' title='Caretaker.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-8370483391808734292</id><published>2010-04-26T23:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T23:38:25.929-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mouthbreather.</title><content type='html'>I'm taking a study break before really studying to say that today has been a weird one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I missed breakfast and coffee this morning so I was feeling kind of off until Zach, Sinclair, Marty, Katie, and I went to Art 6 and got some lunch. I decided to go home to get coffee in stead of buying it for 2 bucks. I ended up getting into a little bit of a car accident when I was about 1 minute from home. The guy got out of his car and yelled at me and I was already crying so it didn't really help. I cried a lot and now my eyes hurt. After he realized that nothing was wrong with his car, he asked me if I was hurt or anything. I wasn't. I went inside the gas station and asked him if he wanted any water while we waited. He said no. I think that made him feel bad. I wasn't trying to make him feel bad, but I think he should've apologized for yelling at me. It really hurt my feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat on the ground when we were waiting on the dispatcher guy to get there and a bunch of ants crawled into the back of my pants and I didn't notice until I stood up and felt this like terrible pinching feeling. It was the worst because I was trying to not stick my hands in my pants to kill them so I ended up just like sitting down really hard in my car and leaning on stuff. It was not fun and I'm sure from the street I looked like a weirdo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zach got home and I told him what happened. He tried to cheer me up, but I didn't really feel better until after I took a short nap. I try not to be too hard on myself, but sometimes when stuff like this happens I feel stupid. I know it was an accident and that everyone gets in them, but it's just hard to deal with sometimes. I don't feel like I've been doing anything right lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate Pei Wei for dinner and watched some Flight of the Conchords.&lt;br /&gt;He is playing video games and I'm supposed to be studying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling less shitty, but still a little worried about my test tomorrow. And my headache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-8370483391808734292?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/8370483391808734292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/04/mouthbreather.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8370483391808734292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8370483391808734292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/04/mouthbreather.html' title='Mouthbreather.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3411709237471703101</id><published>2010-04-11T13:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T13:55:22.560-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Organic.</title><content type='html'>So I'm watching this documentary about obession with beauty and stuff in America and I didn't think that it was going to be this good. I'm really glad I'm watching it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's making me so upset, but like in a good way. I like learning about things we come across every day but don't realize could be affecting our health. It's kind of scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's too bad organic products are so fucking expensive. It all makes a lot of sense though, using organinc things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Zach comes home today. I'm really excited to see him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3411709237471703101?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3411709237471703101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/04/organic.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3411709237471703101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3411709237471703101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/04/organic.html' title='Organic.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-7029324709674799749</id><published>2010-03-28T16:10:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T16:40:54.808-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mano.</title><content type='html'>Today looks like this so far:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning determined to make surprise breakfast for Zach but he woke up while I was trying to be sneaky and quiet. I still made breakfast and he liked it. We ate eggs and  drank coffee while watching a documentary called American Meth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked on these cinder blocks through the ditch over to the parking lot on the other side of the soccer field to get popsicles from the ice cream truck that Zach heard. I got a bomb pop and Zach got a Ninja Turtle with bubble gum eyes that he spit into the ditch on our way back to our apartment. The Bomb Pop turned my mouth a weird purply brown color so I brushed my teeth before I went to take pictures of the soccer players and watchers. I think I secretly want to be Hispanic. Zach said I could probably pass for somebody from Trinidad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go work on bowls that I don't think are going to come out right, but it's ok. I'm trying and that's the best I can do. I'm going to pose for a friend's photo project later tonight and I'm pretty excited about it. I hope I don't look dumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting on the balcony looking through photos, drinking coffee, and typing this blog. Zach is reading a book that was assigned at school and he says it's awful. It's kind of windy, but overall it's a really pretty day. I don't mean to brag, but I kind of love my life right now. I haven't loved life this much in a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things can be this good if you let them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-7029324709674799749?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/7029324709674799749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/03/mano.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7029324709674799749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7029324709674799749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/03/mano.html' title='Mano.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-1862030456508875629</id><published>2010-03-26T09:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T10:05:27.347-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tat-zoots</title><content type='html'>So I know else cares, but I'm really excited about getting a new tattoo at the end of this semester. It's been so busy and expensive and difficult and I feel like I've been relatively responsible with money so far... kind of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm only going to get it if I stop randomly going to Target and buy cheap shirts. I have like way too many shirts and I actually need to donate a ton of stuff that doesn't fit and that I never wear. I gotta simplify my life in that department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years ago, I wanted to get an antique camera tattoo but I could never come up with a place for it because I didn't want two things that looked too similar in shape on my sides. I'm really glad I got my typewriter because it fits well and it's kind of amazing. I'm for sure going to that guy Chris for all my tattoos from now on (at least all the big ones). Anyway, so I put the whole camera idea on hold because I couldn't figure out where to put it. That was back when I wasn't going to get anything done on my arms. I've decided that I'm going to get the camera on my inner left arm. I was going to get this little man from my photography textbook there, but I think a small tattoo in a big fat spot is just going to make me feel fat. I still really REALLY want that little man tattoo, I just gotta move him somewhere else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I'm broke so I have like lots of time to think and rearrange. I'm really excited for a day when I have all my big ones done. The little ones are fun, but the big ones are so much more worth the pain and cost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaanyway. That's it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-1862030456508875629?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/1862030456508875629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/03/tat-zoots.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1862030456508875629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1862030456508875629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/03/tat-zoots.html' title='Tat-zoots'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-8723671307032533494</id><published>2010-03-23T13:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T16:45:20.719-05:00</updated><title type='text'>R e la to r.</title><content type='html'>Spring Break was kind of a blur. Lots of driving and almost losing things and kolaches and photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Houston was mostly busy with little sleep and complicated hang out plans. I got to spend some good quality time with Courtney and then Erin. It was really nice to get to know them all over again. It's been so long and we've kind of lost touch a bit. I love them both so much. I wish I had more time to see Lizzy, Diana, Ethan, and Samantha. It's ok. Next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove to Austin on Saturday to see my sister sing at SXSW. It was freezing and there were too many hipsters everywhere, but we got to sit in the VIP room and drink free alcohol before and after their set. Mackenzie and I walked around 6th street and people-watched. It was a really good night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to see Alex on Sunday when I drove through Waco. We hung out at Whataburger and talked for 2 hours. I miss him so much. I haven't seen him since last Spring Break. A year is too long to go without seeing him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home, Zach was so excited to see me. Of course I was excited too, but it took a while to settle in from driving mode. He would not stop smiling. It was adorable. We laid in bed for like an hour and just looked at each other. It felt so good to really be missed. It's something that I'm not used to. I'm really excited about him in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-8723671307032533494?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/8723671307032533494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/03/r-e-la-to-r.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8723671307032533494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8723671307032533494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/03/r-e-la-to-r.html' title='R e la to r.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-1900113757683168881</id><published>2010-03-04T00:07:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T00:32:09.372-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ann Disaster.</title><content type='html'>Too much stuff to do. AHHH MY LIFE!!&lt;br /&gt;Ok, enough of that. Just had to get it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Timing is funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I texted Nolan to ask a ceramics question half expecting him not to answer and he did (3 hours later). Then out of nowhere, he starts asking me all these questions about how ceramics, and eventually my life, is going. I texted him back and told him that things are good. It feels weird to suddenly be "talking" to him again, but nice. I wanted to be his friend way back when and I don't see why we can't just start over. It's like, we both can't erase what happened (and I'm not asking for that) but we can learn from it and move on. What's done is done and I miss my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He came to the ceramics lab the other night when I was working with Laura on the wheel. I thought it would be totally awkward, but it wasn't. He really helped a lot with teaching me a few techniques that were just slightly different than the stuff that Chris showed us in class. He left pretty soon after, we didn't really talk much. It's ok though. I don't wanna like force friendship on him like right away. It was nice of him to come help me though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This guy Darrin texted me out of the blue today. We haven't talked since December. We kind of had this weird unspoken "falling out" I guess. Anyway, he said that his friend Collin met me a few weeks ago (I don't know how I came up in conversation, probably some facebook thing). Then he said sorry for like disappearing for the past couple of months. His grandpa has been really sick lately and it's not looking good. I figured he had stuff going on, I didn't wanna bother him. I'm glad we're talking again. He's the one who showed me lots of really fucking terrible R. Kelly songs on Youtube.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most important on my list, Lizzy texted me last night to tell me that she misses me. We text off and on here and there. I think the last time I texted her was early December or something. We didn't really start hanging out till near the end of high school and the summer before college. I knew who she was for like 3 years before we were friends. I wish we talked more. We're both terrible at keeping in touch. I can't wait to see her over Spring Break when I go to Houston. I texted her back tonight and we're totally gonna make plans. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I gotta go finish studying. Zach is playing Bioshock 2 and kissing me when I make weird faces at him. He's kind of the best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-1900113757683168881?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/1900113757683168881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/03/ann-disaster.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1900113757683168881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1900113757683168881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/03/ann-disaster.html' title='Ann Disaster.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4146910284881157071</id><published>2010-02-20T16:42:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T16:55:34.522-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't want anymore Cici's Pizza.</title><content type='html'>I'm working overnight tonight. I don't want to, but I gotta make some money. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made a new friend named Sinclair. She's in my ceramics class and she's great! She came over to Zach's for corndogs and tater tots last Thursday. It was good times all around. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Work work work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Spend spend spend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm never going to be able to save up for anything! I have no patience anymore. I just wish I could afford to take care of everything and still have a little left over for fun stuff. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mom said in an email that she lost her job on earlier this week. I don't know how to react. I mean, I wasn't really getting a ton of help from her financially for a while, but she was doing what she could for me if she had extra. I was just getting used to the idea of her helping me and me not feeling bad about it. Now she's jobless. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's always like one thing after another with that lady. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things aren't too bad. I'm trying to not be so stressed all the time. It's hard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4343312951053600526-4146910284881157071?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4146910284881157071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-dont-want-anymore-cicis-pizza.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4146910284881157071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4146910284881157071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-dont-want-anymore-cicis-pizza.html' title='I don&apos;t want anymore Cici&apos;s Pizza.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4956575887954067153</id><published>2010-02-14T14:44:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T15:12:34.145-06:00</updated><title type='text'>And more and more.</title><content type='html'>I don't understand how I got to the place that I'm at right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting at Zach's computer in his hoodie that is too big for me. I'm drinking coffee and watching him type on his typewriter. We're not really talking, except for a little something here or there. I've never been like this with anyone. I've never had this kind of comfortable silence with anybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It still trips me out to think about it. I kind of feel like I don't deserve it or that it can't really be this good. Like one day everyone is gonna come around the corner and yell &lt;em&gt;SIKE!&lt;/em&gt; and things are going to go back to what they were like before. I felt so alone. I was doing terrible things to myself and I was trying to take down as many people I could almost to "get back" at those who had done wrong to me. It wasn't fair. And so why do I deserve someone who loves me this much? I don't think I'm a bad person, but I've done so many things that I wish I could take back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that stuff is in the past. I mean, I can't really fix any of it. It's ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/S3hmBB07NWI/AAAAAAAAAIo/70snhd3a3T4/s1600-h/DSC_0221.NEF.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438208717906195810" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/S3hmBB07NWI/AAAAAAAAAIo/70snhd3a3T4/s320/DSC_0221.NEF.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, Zach made me chocolate covered strawberries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't because of the stupid holiday. He just does sweet things like this. He cares about making me happy and I know that his gestures are sincere. I don't understand him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love him. A lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like the only thing I've ever been completely sure about in my life. It's a little scary, but it's also really great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-4956575887954067153?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4956575887954067153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/02/and-more-and-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4956575887954067153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4956575887954067153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/02/and-more-and-more.html' title='And more and more.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/S3hmBB07NWI/AAAAAAAAAIo/70snhd3a3T4/s72-c/DSC_0221.NEF.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-2946322197857930571</id><published>2010-02-04T12:53:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T20:07:28.894-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ok, so what I meant was</title><content type='html'>I don't think I can do anything fun for like a year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, when it comes to expensive things that I want t blow all my money on, I don't think I can do anything fun. I wish I had a secret rich relative that would show up and hand me a million dollars. I know everyone wishes that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to have some good quality time with my special man friend last night and I also got like 9 hours of sleep. That's something that pretty much never happens. Especially when I'm hanging out with Zach. He goes t bed at like 3 am most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking a lot about the future lately. I usually try not to because I get all stressed out, but this is different. I feel comfortable about not knowing whats going to happen. I feel really good about life in general. Better than I would if Zach weren't around. He really makes me feel good about being myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough mushy stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE the woman in my photo class. She's sooooo annoying and bitchy and obnoxious. I really wish she would stop laughing all loud at jokes that aren't that funny. I also wish she would shut up about black and white photos already. We get it. You like black and white. Color is good too. Color is harder, really. She's just a dumb bitch. I hate her big big guts!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhhh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-2946322197857930571?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/2946322197857930571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/02/ok-so-what-i-meant-was.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/2946322197857930571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/2946322197857930571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/02/ok-so-what-i-meant-was.html' title='Ok, so what I meant was'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-698491003212188337</id><published>2010-01-19T19:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T19:41:32.344-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaky faucet.</title><content type='html'>So, going against everything I stand for (musically speaking), I posted an ad on craigslist on saturday about getting some folks together and forming some kind of band. I made sure to say I wanted to just play little shows and stuff for fun, nothing like trying to make a career out of it. I wasn't expecting to get any responses at all, let alone any good ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, I got a lot of feedback. Some of them sent links to myspaces and they were actually really good. I emailed them all back, and I'm waiting to hear what they have to say. There is this one guy in particular that had the most appealing music on his myspace. It was very Feist-like. I loved his sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaahh I hope he emails me back! I think it would be cool to collaborate and maybe play some shows at The Hydrant or something. Just small stuff. It would be fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cross yo' fingers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-698491003212188337?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/698491003212188337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/01/leaky-faucet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/698491003212188337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/698491003212188337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/01/leaky-faucet.html' title='Leaky faucet.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-5072081969559905454</id><published>2010-01-15T12:11:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T12:22:31.269-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Le Petit.</title><content type='html'>So I looked up some Little Prince tattoos today and I found this one that is like amazing and like exactly what I would have wanted my tattoo artist to come up with. It's like absolutely perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3106/3210768847_0a6c993128.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 500px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 294px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3106/3210768847_0a6c993128.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so jealous that this guy has it and I don't.&lt;br /&gt;I'm also not looking forward to getting something soooo similar, but it's like PERFECT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3594/3343565336_74fe9e71e0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 500px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 247px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3594/3343565336_74fe9e71e0.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll show it to my guy and tell him a few changes (I don't want a blue back ground and some of the pictures I want bigger). Hoping to start working on it this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-5072081969559905454?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/5072081969559905454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/01/le-petit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/5072081969559905454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/5072081969559905454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/01/le-petit.html' title='Le Petit.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3106/3210768847_0a6c993128_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-6831593087643642952</id><published>2010-01-13T17:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T17:36:09.855-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sock it to me.</title><content type='html'>So I'm currently very happy with life. A little stressed but it's something that I'm used to. Car stuff. Always car stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is going smoothly, except getting a mild case of the stomach flu that everyone that lives in this house had. I can't wait to go back to school and to work more days of the week because I need to save money and work on paying off my credit old card so I can get that off of my plate for a while. I also want to save for the summer so I can take a little time off with Sheesha and do something. I miss some Houston people, also. I know sometime before summer I'll be back in Houston, but only for like a weeked. Not really enough time to visit eeeeeveryone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have much to say, but I wanted to say something since its been a long time since I've posted on this thing. I miss it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-6831593087643642952?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/6831593087643642952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/01/sock-it-to-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6831593087643642952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6831593087643642952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2010/01/sock-it-to-me.html' title='Sock it to me.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-6615828444762535810</id><published>2009-12-01T17:15:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T17:44:13.708-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Good timing.</title><content type='html'>I got home from school today and I was all kinds anxious because I'm waiting for something important to come it the mail and it was supposed to get here today. Well, as I expected, it wasn't in the mailbox. I was this close to crying, because this week was already frustrating enough, when I noticed I had two letters; One from my Uncle Richie and one from Kevin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know my Uncle wont read this, but it really cheered me up to get that Christmas card with 5 bucks in it. That 5 dollars makes a large impact, believe it or not.  I have to put some gas in my car and every penny counts, ya know? Also, the message inside was really sweet. He wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regine,&lt;br /&gt;May you always be loved and be loving.&lt;br /&gt;Your Uncle,&lt;br /&gt;Richard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved that. My uncle always sends me the best letters. Usually longer than that, but it was short and sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin sent me this post card that he made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/SxWppGeYH9I/AAAAAAAAAIY/2Q0t9YWMrAk/s1600/DSC_1802.NEF.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/SxWppGeYH9I/AAAAAAAAAIY/2Q0t9YWMrAk/s400/DSC_1802.NEF.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410417050933272530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it! I miss him soooo much. This sucky week is going to drag knowing that he's not coming till next weekend.Hurry up, Craft!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/SxWnUyX8TDI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/GVUMuYSmqzY/s1600/DSC_1806.NEF.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/SxWnUyX8TDI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/GVUMuYSmqzY/s400/DSC_1806.NEF.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410414502916934706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-6615828444762535810?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/6615828444762535810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/12/good-timing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6615828444762535810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6615828444762535810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/12/good-timing.html' title='Good timing.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/SxWppGeYH9I/AAAAAAAAAIY/2Q0t9YWMrAk/s72-c/DSC_1802.NEF.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3084042344562812047</id><published>2009-11-30T09:41:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T09:48:14.376-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Shot Down.</title><content type='html'>It's like the harder I try on a photo project, the more crap I get. I understand what she means about the photos not looking too senior portrait-y but it's like if I take the photos inside their houses and apartments, they're just gonna look boring and be the same or worse than if I continue to take them outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel really upset and stressed because this is the final project and it's due in a week and she basically told me to start over. It's hard when you're working with models because everyone has conflicting schedules and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give up.&lt;br /&gt;GAAAAH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst thing is that I can't apply to trucking school till I'm 22. I'm seriously considering it. I want to try at least. You only take classes for about a month, so I think it'll be worth the wait and finishing things at UNT. I planned on finishing college, but for a little while there I wanted to quit. It's like, I'm freaking studying Art for Christ's sake. ART.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could cry, and I think I mean it. I say that a lot, but I'm seriously on the verge of a major breakdown if this project isn't any good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3084042344562812047?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3084042344562812047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/11/shot-down.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3084042344562812047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3084042344562812047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/11/shot-down.html' title='Shot Down.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3372035530785408352</id><published>2009-11-23T09:07:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T13:45:40.250-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Noes!</title><content type='html'>I think this is wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have taken a strange turn for the better. The much better. I think I'm over the Nolan thing. Ha, I know last time I was all complainy about it, but I for real think I've gotten it through my stupid head that there is no reason to go for the "Bad Guy".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be his friend, like we should've been from the beginning. Things will be better that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there's this guy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His name is Zach. He's pretty awesome.&lt;br /&gt;He likes me. I like him. I do. As far as I know, we're taking things at a pretty good, slow pace. Relatively slow. Haha. Slow enough that I'm comfortable. We've gotten to the two week mark and I'm not completely freaked out, so that's a good sign. He's not like trying to force me to be his girlfriend. I'm glad. I don't like jumping straight into relationships. That's stupid and I hate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dating is nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it.&lt;br /&gt;He's swell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3372035530785408352?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3372035530785408352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-noes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3372035530785408352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3372035530785408352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-noes.html' title='Oh Noes!'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-8473527143746573147</id><published>2009-11-10T23:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T23:29:10.661-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Me and Mr. Jones.</title><content type='html'>So it's been a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did end up talking that night. It made things better, kind of. Like, it seemed like it was gonna head in one direction and then suddenly everything went the wrong way again. I think I just can't trust myself with him sometimes. We both like each other. We cleared that up, so that was nice. The thing is, it's nice to know that the feelings are mutual but it doesn't make it ok to go on this way. I'm getting more emotionally involved than I wanted to and I feel like it's easier on him to just get over it all. I wish I could just turn off my feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met this other guy a few months ago and we just recently hung out one-on-one. He asked me out on a date last night, and it was fun. He's funny-- very funny. He's smart-- very smart. He's nice but not in the annoying sickeningly sweet way. Not overbearing or obsessed with me. He likes me and I wish I could like him. It's not that I couldn't, I'm just so stuck on the Nolan thing. I really wish I could just get over it. I kept thinking about him while I was on the date. I couldn't help it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'll get over it one day, but I need to take my time, ya know? I can't help it. I just really like that asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-8473527143746573147?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/8473527143746573147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/11/me-and-mr-jones.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8473527143746573147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8473527143746573147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/11/me-and-mr-jones.html' title='Me and Mr. Jones.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-6816488623420289385</id><published>2009-10-30T01:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T01:12:23.618-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So here goes.</title><content type='html'>I texted him to see if we could talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's still hanging out with the rest of the band guys, but he said he'd let me know when he's done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm anxious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if I want him to really call me or if I want him to forget so I have even more reason to not like him anymore. I'm just trying to justify my anger so it's easier to get over him. I'm really bad at getting over people that I know I shouldn't bother with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's the whole "bad guy" image that I fall in love with. I mean, he's not like a typical "bad guy" but he has some of the qualities. Like, he doesn't call or text me back often. He doens't bend over backwards to help me, or compliment me daily, or say anything that nice to me, ever. He's not mean, he's just not super clingy, or needy. All the things I like about a guy. The only problem with guys that aren't clingy and too super sweet is that I become slightly that way to make up for it or something. Like, not so much the clingy thing, just like hella sweet. I bake a lot and do nice things, almost as a way to get them to notice me. It's subconcious. I can see it when I step back and look, but during I totally don't pick up on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, he's not that bad of a guy. He's cool and I like him a lot. I just see this as a fruitless waste of time though. I mean, I think the scenario through over and over again and I just see him turning into another Joe. I went through so much over him and I never want to do that again. I just can't turn my feelings off and keep on this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna tell him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to tell him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-6816488623420289385?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/6816488623420289385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/so-here-goes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6816488623420289385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6816488623420289385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/so-here-goes.html' title='So here goes.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4433071782823169756</id><published>2009-10-26T08:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T09:42:35.961-05:00</updated><title type='text'>O.</title><content type='html'>So today I woke up early but got out of bed late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a shower even though I wanted to get to school more on time than I have been getting here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was late, but I didn't care. I figured I missed my chance but as I was getting on to the elevator, he was getting off. His class was taking like a field trip downstairs for something. He said "Well, good morning" and smiled at me. I was half asleep still and I had already decided that I was probably not going to see him today, so I reacted funny. It was just a quick hello. I didn't get to hug him or anything. Not that it matters I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called him last Thursday expecting him to not answer, and he didn't. I was planning on being angry about it, but he called me back within an hour. He said he was gonna be working on art stuff for about a week straight and that he isn't gonna hang out with anyone till he gets all this stuff done. I totally understand what that's like.  It was nice of him to call back; not gonna lie, I was surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish he could make up his mind about this stuff. I need to talk to him about it, but I just wish I didn't have to.  Ugh... I'm avoiding the inevitable uncomfortable situation for a few more days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just until midterms are over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we'll talk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-4433071782823169756?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4433071782823169756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/o.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4433071782823169756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4433071782823169756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/o.html' title='O.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4858044655389824477</id><published>2009-10-19T01:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T01:06:41.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Papcorn.</title><content type='html'>I am going to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm stuck in the middle of the worst writer's block of all time.&lt;br /&gt;It's really hard to play guitar because I just get hella frustrated because I have music but no words. I feel like my thoughts are all kinds of scattered. I can't seem to focus long enough on one idea and it's driving me coo-coo bananas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COO-COO bananas.&lt;br /&gt;Night?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-4858044655389824477?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4858044655389824477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/papcorn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4858044655389824477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4858044655389824477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/papcorn.html' title='Papcorn.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-6113359306646989028</id><published>2009-10-17T11:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T12:03:10.969-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Highways for stretchmarks.</title><content type='html'>So I woke up this morning at 8 without an alarm clock. It was weird. It was so bright in my room.&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been up that early on a Saturday in like 4 years. Haha. I went back to sleep until like 11:30, but I figured I should stop being lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want some French toast. I don't have any patience though. Not for cooking. Not today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go to work and then I might call that guy. I'm worried that this is just turning into one of those situations where I halfway get my hopes up. I know that there is a 50/50 chance that nothing will come from my efforts, but I still want to try. There's still hope, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meh, if not it's no big deal. I like being busy with work again. I'm 10X less stressed out when I have a job. My Grandpa was a workoholic and I've inherited that quality in some ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe came over last night and we played with my rats. It was really cute because he was like a little kid when I brought them out, haha. Then we sat around and looked at pictures and I made him a sandwhich. I was fun being able to offer him something to eat or drink because I always go to his place and finally I have a place to invite him over to. Also, it was cool to hang out just the two of us, since we haven't done that in like 7 months. There's always someone else around and it's not the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went and watched TV with Mr. West after. Southpark was hillarious. Butters was a pimp in a Kissing Company. Hahah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, very fun night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-6113359306646989028?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/6113359306646989028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/highways-for-stretchmarks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6113359306646989028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6113359306646989028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/highways-for-stretchmarks.html' title='Highways for stretchmarks.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3289947612453528490</id><published>2009-10-14T00:14:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T00:23:51.307-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You have got to be kidding.</title><content type='html'>Am I crazy in the head, or does my stupid ex-boyfriend from high school have ANOTHER new girlfriend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's had several (hundreds, probably) since me, and I don't have any jealousy toward those girls at all. It's just that he's like so immature and annoying, yet he always has some kind of girlfriend. The down time in between is like 2 weeks, maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost want to ask him how he does it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pride myself in my maturity and I don't think I'm too annoying most of the time, but somehow I can't get a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;decent&lt;/span&gt; date to save my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could get a crappy one, if I tried. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, the girls are always top quality and like total hotties. I don't know how he does it.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe he's a wizard.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.tokyofish.com/temp/wizard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 465px;" src="http://www.tokyofish.com/temp/wizard.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3289947612453528490?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3289947612453528490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/you-have-got-to-be-kidding.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3289947612453528490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3289947612453528490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/you-have-got-to-be-kidding.html' title='You have got to be kidding.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3536423022230012471</id><published>2009-10-08T20:38:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T20:01:00.936-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm an honest mess.</title><content type='html'>I'm listening to some Roy Robertson tunes. Is it weird that one of my favorite musicians is a friend of mine? I can't help it, I really like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm babysitting. I'm pretty uncomfortable tonight. I didn't get to take a shower when I got back from the gym and I'm stinky and tired. I got in this weird little awkward conflict thing with two of my roommies. I don't think it's gonna be solved easily. It's just that we all have different ways of doing things. Ugh. It's just dishes and stuff like that, but it's still frustrating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be mad at anyone and vise versa. I was in a pretty ok mood till I got home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was planning on cleaning my room tonight, but I'm gonna get home so late from babysitting and I have to work tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post is mostly complaining, so I'm just gonna change topics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3536423022230012471?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3536423022230012471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-honest-mess.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3536423022230012471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3536423022230012471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-honest-mess.html' title='I&apos;m an honest mess.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-704338112114389560</id><published>2009-10-06T02:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T02:16:13.933-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh well wouldn't you know.</title><content type='html'>Every time I get something going on guitar that I like and have plenty of stuff to write about, I get mad crazy writer's block for days and days. This is driving me insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I'm terrified to pursue something that I want to pursue.&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I be as confident in some actions as I am with others?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could just be vague for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;It makes things seem easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGH! (one more, for the road)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-704338112114389560?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/704338112114389560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/oh-well-wouldnt-you-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/704338112114389560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/704338112114389560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/10/oh-well-wouldnt-you-know.html' title='Oh well wouldn&apos;t you know.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-6105139372270130042</id><published>2009-09-28T23:48:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T23:41:48.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spogheadai.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.nestleprofessional.com/united-states/en/PublishingImages/Products/NESTLE%20HOT%20COCOA/12080293.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 158px; height: 160px;" src="http://www.nestleprofessional.com/united-states/en/PublishingImages/Products/NESTLE%20HOT%20COCOA/12080293.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having like the best week ever starting Friday of last week. I hope things stay like this for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I got a job&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My financial aid status is finally moving somewhere&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I made half decent spaghetti for myself tonight, so proud :P&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My test last week was way easier than anticipated&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I went to a fantastic party&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Met fantastic people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Working out w/ Lindsay= more energy and I feel better about myself&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Melissa's boyfriend brought his rats last week and I got to play with them all the time&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm gonna get rats after my first paycheck!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Started to write 2 new songs (one sucks, one's not half bad)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's only the stuff I remember (not in any specific order).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="profile_status"&gt;&lt;span id="status_text"&gt;Sebs made Abuelita Chocolate. Great ending to a great day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait till October. I have a good feeling about this month...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-6105139372270130042?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/6105139372270130042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/09/spogheadai.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6105139372270130042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6105139372270130042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/09/spogheadai.html' title='Spogheadai.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4508952451688347316</id><published>2009-09-26T03:21:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T20:02:43.809-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Well, I would.</title><content type='html'>Due to all the negativity that I've been spewin', and then kind of positive stuff, and then back to negative stuff, I've kind of gotten to an in between weird place where I'm confident in myself but confused at the same time. I mean, I don't always feel fat and lonely, but even when I'm feeling good about myself, I feel kind of bad because I still gotz nobody. I know I'm not the only one, and I know that I've been single for quite some time before and this shouldn't be getting to me as much as it is, but I can't help it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I think I'm a nice lady. I talk to much, but I'm a good girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd fuck me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha, I'm kidding.&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna go to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-4508952451688347316?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4508952451688347316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/09/well-i-would.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4508952451688347316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4508952451688347316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/09/well-i-would.html' title='Well, I would.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-2186592612585350107</id><published>2009-09-14T21:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T20:04:42.961-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What ever you do,</title><content type='html'>Don't approach me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 500px; float: left; height: 332px;" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/19/111457942_c5de2fc138.jpg?v=0" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I'm a freaking cactus or something. I mean, am I really that unapproachable? Do I give off some sort of mean air or something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I seem to have any luck in this department?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been whinning about this all for a while off and on, but I can't really help it. I don't know what I want. As soon as somebody likes me, I freak out and run away from it. I mean, I have good reason most of the time. It doesn't come down to me being extraordinarily picky. I'm really not, it's just that we all have our preferences and there are some things that I can't settle for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Smokers of any kind (hookah, pot, cigarettes, pipes)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Non-college students (not post grads)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Excessive drinkers/party goers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Clingy guys (yuck)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Super pushy athiest. I can almost understand agnostics, but athiesm seems a little ridiculous. You really don't believe in anything? And then when they're pushy about it... ugh. It's so annoying.  I guess pushy people in general just get to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I mean, I don't think I'm asking too much. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I dunno. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-2186592612585350107?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/2186592612585350107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-ever-you-do.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/2186592612585350107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/2186592612585350107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-ever-you-do.html' title='What ever you do,'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-7989237037702142187</id><published>2009-09-06T22:07:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T22:35:03.732-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandpeople.</title><content type='html'>Well, I leave Florida tomorrow afternoon. This time with my grandparents and mom has been nice. We convinced my Grandpa to wear a pointy party hat at dinner on his birthday, which was awesome. He never participates with stuff like that. Grandma is always a good sport, she's so sweet. I got some good pictures of him. I'm glad. I hate to think about him passing. It really gets to me when I see how much he's struggling already. He's so damn funny. I don't wanna think about that now, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the circus museum but it was kind of a rip off. I liked it a lot, but I would've rather spent 50 bucks somewhere else. I mean, 25 dollars per person is kind of ridiculous. I got a cool mug with an elephant on it. Reminded me of Ravel. It's not for him, but he can use it anytime :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did like 15 minutes of yardwork today. I hate yardwork because it's a mixture of two terrible things: Insects and Injuries. I always get all sweaty and somehow get hurt and there are bugs all over the place. I HATE bugs. I felt bad because my grandparents are 82 and 80 and can still do all that yard work. Kudos to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the beach and walked a bit. The sand looks like snow, it's kind of amazing. I took some pictures because it's probably the last time I'll go to a beach unless it's as pretty as this one. I made fun of some little kids that were posing funny in pictures and a wave hit me in the face. It was pretty funny. Karma, haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shopped a lot and ate a lot of great home cooked meals. Also, I learned a secret way to make pancakes and I'm gonna test it on my roomies. I baked a cake with my grandma and it was pretty awesome. I'm gonna write down the recipe and give it to Caroline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I thought I'd make a small list of things I'd like to remember from this trip. None of it will make sense to any of you, but I want to store it somewhere or I'll forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quotes to sum it up:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;"I'm going dancin!" -Mom (to the girl that worked at Foxy Lady)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"I don't want you breakin' your back and suing me!" -Grandpa (to my mom)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me...(and so on)" -Grandpa (singing along)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"I'm  going to have to send this to my colleagues so they know how important I am"  Grandpa (upon opening my birthday card)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"This is how you have to talk to momma (grandma). You say it twice and she'll pick something up the second time."&lt;br /&gt;----ten minutes later Grandpa says something---&lt;br /&gt;"What?" -Grandma&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I wasn't talking to you. I wasn't talking to you" -Grandpa&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Nobody wants to be bombed with flowers"-Some guy on 60 Seconds&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"We'll need these (birthday candles)" -Grandma&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; "Do we have 80? (birthday candles)" -Me&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lots of funny things, I have stories to explain them all if you really wanna know.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-7989237037702142187?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/7989237037702142187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/09/grandpeople.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7989237037702142187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7989237037702142187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/09/grandpeople.html' title='Grandpeople.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4838468285449799863</id><published>2009-09-04T00:13:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T00:41:19.983-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When I fit in the palm of your hand.</title><content type='html'>I miss being a kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss simplicity.&lt;br /&gt;I miss the idea of coming home from school and having plans to play with my toys, eat a snack, jump on the trampoline, play outside with the neighbor kids...&lt;br /&gt;All that stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When did things have to get so difficult?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep thinking about my stress levels and I get even more stressed out because I'm afraid that one day when I'm 40, I'll have a heart attack or something. I've heard about that happening and I feel like it's gonna happen. I know it's dumb to fear things in the future, but sometimes I can't shake those thoughts.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/SqCn33n7LqI/AAAAAAAAACg/qztw8iVVE5I/s1600-h/blogspt2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/SqCn33n7LqI/AAAAAAAAACg/qztw8iVVE5I/s200/blogspt2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377482533346422434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's crazy to think that I was ever 6.  I look so much like this, that it creeps me out a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's even crazier to conceive that I was ever this small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/SqCoBxATuxI/AAAAAAAAACo/8PDpf-SyVK8/s1600-h/blogspt.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/SqCoBxATuxI/AAAAAAAAACo/8PDpf-SyVK8/s200/blogspt.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377482703368338194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have photographic proof, but it's still seems insane.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-4838468285449799863?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4838468285449799863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/09/when-i-fit-in-palm-of-your-hand.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4838468285449799863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4838468285449799863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/09/when-i-fit-in-palm-of-your-hand.html' title='When I fit in the palm of your hand.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGAdLBCDVUM/SqCn33n7LqI/AAAAAAAAACg/qztw8iVVE5I/s72-c/blogspt2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-1461330147670211998</id><published>2009-08-25T03:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T03:56:04.259-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bésixdouze.</title><content type='html'>I've decided on the theme for my half sleeve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Le Petit Prince.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will consist of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;the box with the sheep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the snake with the elephant (not hat!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the prince with the birds&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;stars and little planets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;some kind or representation of the planet&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;possibly the destructive trees&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the rose... small&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;possibly the volcanoes... not sure&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Besixdouze" (B612 ) the name of the planet&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the fox, for sure&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;some line&lt;&lt; very hard to pick one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Oh goody! I'm so excited.&lt;br /&gt;This is going to take years and lots of saving, but I can't wait till it's finished!&lt;br /&gt;It was like a brilliant revelation out of nowhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-1461330147670211998?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/1461330147670211998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/08/besixdouze.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1461330147670211998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1461330147670211998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/08/besixdouze.html' title='Bésixdouze.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-4268475799353526169</id><published>2009-08-24T04:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T04:35:43.984-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you?</title><content type='html'>I wrote a song today with Taylor. I think we're officially in a band together. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm excited, but also kinda worried. I like the idea of bouncing ideas off of each other and things are going well so far, but I don't want anything serious with the music biz... You know? He doesn't seem like he's trying to become famous or anything. I just wanna make music for funzies. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm at Joe, Dan, Bryan, and Logan's place and I want to go home sooooo bad. I'm still technically drunk so I'm not allowed/going to leave yet. Joe gave me a blanket and a couch to sleep on but I don't feel like it. I want to sleep in my own bed :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone else is sleeping or in their rooms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just wanna cuddle. Sometimes I wish I had a boyfriend. Just sometimes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most of the time I remember all the things I like about being single and I'm ok. But some things can't be done when single. I just wish there was someone that I felt equally matched with. I hate that the last few people I've "given a chance" have just not been my type. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ugh...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm done complaining for now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-4268475799353526169?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/4268475799353526169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/08/would-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4268475799353526169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/4268475799353526169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/08/would-you.html' title='Would you?'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3297524689059104872</id><published>2009-08-21T13:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T13:17:34.750-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Re-</title><content type='html'>Responsible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I'm being today. I'm taking care of a lot of business that I needed to take care of months ago. I feel good doing it, too. I hope I stay this way for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm excited for tomorrow night. Super hero party and 20's Party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know which one to go to first...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I went to Houston for a short visit. It was alright. I was excited to see Courtney because I haven't hung out with her in quite some time. I got to see Lauren, Nick, and Cody too. Overall it was a good trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a response email from a babysitting job I applied to. She wants to meet with me either today or tomorrow. I'm pushing for tomorrow so I can have some more time to apply to other jobs just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready to have a job again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than ready.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3297524689059104872?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3297524689059104872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/08/re.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3297524689059104872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3297524689059104872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/08/re.html' title='Re-'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-8770213939497500036</id><published>2009-08-17T21:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T21:29:38.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Negative Nancy.</title><content type='html'>I've kind of been one lately. I'll try to lighten up.&lt;a href="http://rlv.zcache.com/stop_being_such_a_negative_nancy_tshirt-p235703042736347300tdra_210.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 210px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://rlv.zcache.com/stop_being_such_a_negative_nancy_tshirt-p235703042736347300tdra_210.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things aren't so bad, it just got really crazy all at once. I'm still not completely sure how to handle it all, but it's gonna be ok just like every other time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;None of this will physically kill me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been hanging out with Mr. Diaz a lot lately. It's fun. I've missed him. We haven't hung out like this in like a year and a half. We talked today about whatever has been putting him in a strange mood. I'm glad that he knows that I care enough to ask. I care a lot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not just about him, I care a lot about all my friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just don't like seeing people that I love sad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Other people can be sad all they want :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-8770213939497500036?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/8770213939497500036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/08/negative-nancy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8770213939497500036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/8770213939497500036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/08/negative-nancy.html' title='Negative Nancy.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-7837812008808399198</id><published>2009-08-04T11:31:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T11:35:08.572-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I will find you, Dybek.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://chicagoist.com/attachments/missyfizz/2005_09_stuart_dybek.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 251px;" src="http://chicagoist.com/attachments/missyfizz/2005_09_stuart_dybek.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I went to this reading last semester in my English class and I can't seem to track down the book that contains the short story "We Didn't" by Stuart Dybek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so freaking good. I wish I had written down the name of the book he was selling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I think any book of his short stories will be great, but that story was so awesome. I want to show it to people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait till this weekend. Some well deserved party happiness is soon to be here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday to Ravel!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-7837812008808399198?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/7837812008808399198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-will-find-you-dybek.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7837812008808399198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/7837812008808399198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-will-find-you-dybek.html' title='I will find you, Dybek.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-2717294182637745344</id><published>2009-07-14T00:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T00:20:26.482-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Senior Pals.</title><content type='html'>This is my newest venture. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.thefita.com/yahoo_site_admin/assets/images/senior_citizen_4.9770511_std.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.thefita.com/yahoo_site_admin/assets/images/senior_citizen_4.9770511_std.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would really enjoy to spend time volunteering. I miss the feeling of doing something nice for someone in need. I just applied online for this local volunteer thing that should hopefully e-mail me back soon. I want to work with elderly people, preferably in the Senior Pals program. I just get to befriend an old person. I would love that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If not, there's also meals on wheels that requires at least one day of the mon-friday week that you can serve for about 2 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, there's Senior Paws, which is once a month delivering pet food to the home of a senior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think any of these opportunities would be a good challenge and would keep me in check. I really want to appreciate life more. This seems like a good way. I hope I get the pals one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait till they e-mail me back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-2717294182637745344?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/2717294182637745344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/07/senior-pals.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/2717294182637745344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/2717294182637745344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/07/senior-pals.html' title='Senior Pals.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-6979036435931429754</id><published>2009-07-06T01:40:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T01:45:40.788-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Badger Attack.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.toxicocultura.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/banksy-again.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://www.toxicocultura.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/banksy-again.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I wish I had thought of this. Banksy is neat-o.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"REGINE HAS A NICE RACK!"= my favorite thing that Laura said on her birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really really glad I got to hang out with friends this weekend. It was a helluva time (minus watching stupid Twilight). I missed Kevin so much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot to do this week, but at least this weekend was a pick-me-up. Life has been hard lately. It's nice to have times like these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight my dears!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-6979036435931429754?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/6979036435931429754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/07/badger-attack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6979036435931429754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/6979036435931429754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/07/badger-attack.html' title='Badger Attack.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-944300631665892519</id><published>2009-06-25T20:34:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T20:40:35.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kevo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v1962/57/81/23929601/n23929601_37814632_1993.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 405px;" src="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v1962/57/81/23929601/n23929601_37814632_1993.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna make it my goal to follow all of Kevin Craft's blogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm following like 7 now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid best friend Ravel came over and made me watch Almost Famous and then left to get that hoe Laura and hasn't come back yet. A couple of numbskulls, that's what &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;they &lt;/span&gt;are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-944300631665892519?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/944300631665892519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/kevo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/944300631665892519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/944300631665892519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/kevo.html' title='Kevo.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-5695663937244316970</id><published>2009-06-22T12:34:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T13:05:12.734-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Art rant No. 1</title><content type='html'>I would like to know what gives one so-called artist the right to decide what deserves an A and what deserves an F on something that the creator calls art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that the only thing that should be graded in beginning level art classes is following the size and material requirements. It's important to incorporate design qualities and all that jazz but at the same time maybe we forget that the most unintentional things in artwork end up being the most interesting What's boring to you might be interesting to someone else. So what if it doesn't go along with some theme? I thought that's what art was supposed to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, last time I checked, art is one thing that can be completely subjective without question or explanation. I've seen some "Art" in museums and it wasn't necessarily someting that I would consider pretty or eyecathing but someone thought it was special. Whether or not I agree has nothing to do with the craftmanship or work (including thought) put into something. So tell me where the fuck my design II teacher gets off telling someone their statue had a "Really ugly" part? He was so goddamned insulting to EVERYONE. The thing about critique is that it's supposed to be constructive criticism. The thing is, Marty, I agreed with a few of your criticisms but you should really learn how to fucking word things in a way that show some sort of hope rather than tearing down the artist who is proud of their work. If they really care, they will be open for suggestions to make it better (as we all seem to be) but it's all about the way you deliver things. FYI, not everyone has the same opinion as you and it's not like just because you're a grad student that makes you any more credible as an artist. You may know the principles of design and all the fancy adjectives for things but that doesn't mean you have to be a pretintious asswipe about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just get so frustrated because I don't sugarcoat my opinions in critique but I make sure to give the artist some fucking credit where credit is due. Everyone worked hard on their projects and he made it seem like they were put together with little thought, when that is so fucking far from the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, to sum things up:&lt;br /&gt;I feel that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;some people&lt;/span&gt; in the art department have sticks up their pretentious asses and need to realize that their shit stinks too.&lt;br /&gt;I feel that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;some people&lt;/span&gt; should be more constructive in critique and offer a solutions instead of making fun of somebody's hard work.&lt;br /&gt;I also feel that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;some people &lt;/span&gt;should stop critiquing things with a closed mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Some people &lt;/span&gt;should get it through their fat fucking head that not everyone thinks the way they do and just because they're the teacher it doesn't give them any right to be rude and to call ANYONE's work Ugly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who the fuck crowned you king of the art world?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This probably didn't flow as well as it did in my head on the car ride home, but I needed to just get some of that out of my system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(pardon my French)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-5695663937244316970?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/5695663937244316970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/art-rant-no-1.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/5695663937244316970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/5695663937244316970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/art-rant-no-1.html' title='Art rant No. 1'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-253568211630466659</id><published>2009-06-10T19:48:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T20:29:54.421-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Now there's a look.</title><content type='html'>How I felt 20 minutes ago &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.guy-sports.com/fun_pictures/cat_rain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 207px;" src="http://www.guy-sports.com/fun_pictures/cat_rain.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got soaked trying to save my stupid homework. I mean, I would've gotten soaked anyway, but I had to make two trips through the rain because had lots of stuff to bring in and keep dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm better now.&lt;br /&gt;So fresh and so clean clean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was drifting into sleep last night, I started to dream that I was walking somewhere and I  tripped. It was weird because the moment I tripped in my dream, my body jolted like it happened for real and I was awake again. It made me mad because I was really super awake after that. Took me like an hour to fall asleep. Weird stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep getting really stressed out lately. Money (or lack thereof), job (or lack thereof), crazy art workload, eating healthier (or not)... etc. Not only that, but my friends aren't helping with the stress.  I want to go to Houston and my old friends bug me about it constantly but it's just not that simple. I wish it were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish people would visit me sometimes, I mean if they really want to see me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno, just a thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-253568211630466659?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/253568211630466659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/now-there.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/253568211630466659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/253568211630466659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/now-there.html' title='Now there&apos;s a look.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-3443277133278469557</id><published>2009-06-07T12:10:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T12:38:14.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fell in love with the pizza girl.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.yorkblog.com/flipside/JonasBrothers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 373px;" src="http://www.yorkblog.com/flipside/JonasBrothers.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm sitting here in the living room and NOTHING is on tv.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stumbled upon the show Jonas on the Disney channel. For some reason I always end up on one of these channels watching some terrible show but I don't change it. The boys are all in "love" with the pizza girl so they wrote a song about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now they're all trying to ask her out and see who she likes the best. I hope she doesn't think that they're all weird and doesn't date any of them leaving the brothers to realize that their band and friendship is more important than a girl. It's truly an original idea for an episode. I've never seen anything like this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I have. On like every other  teeny bopper show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Disney, you've lost it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-3443277133278469557?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/3443277133278469557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/fell-in-love-with-pizza-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3443277133278469557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/3443277133278469557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/fell-in-love-with-pizza-girl.html' title='Fell in love with the pizza girl.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-826230100775050533</id><published>2009-06-04T04:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T04:30:54.979-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Trouble.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_5xbLgg72CBs/RukBq2iKCgI/AAAAAAAAAo4/9iyQyXAHZIU/s320/bowl+of+vanilla+ice+cream.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 320px;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_5xbLgg72CBs/RukBq2iKCgI/AAAAAAAAAo4/9iyQyXAHZIU/s320/bowl+of+vanilla+ice+cream.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is, next week is the first summer school session. I'm not so worried about design II, it's that darn pilates class that scares me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I would love to get in better shape but my determination only lasts for like 20 minutes and then I start craving ice cream or Pei Wei. Or Jack in the Box curly fries...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were watching half ton teen on TLC today and seeing the 825 lb 19 year old and the 572 lb 16 year old made me feel a whole lot better about my unhealthy eating habits because I realized they weren't anywhere near as bad as these people's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, regardless of that I would still like to lose weight. I'm happy with myself but I just don't want to set myself up for health problems in the future. My plan is to be a hot cougar someday. I gotta start preparing now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, not "now" as in today. We're having Vodka and ice cream at girly girly talk time. I mean "now" as in the near future. This weekend?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-826230100775050533?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/826230100775050533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/trouble.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/826230100775050533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/826230100775050533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/trouble.html' title='Trouble.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5xbLgg72CBs/RukBq2iKCgI/AAAAAAAAAo4/9iyQyXAHZIU/s72-c/bowl+of+vanilla+ice+cream.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-1058811078339727286</id><published>2009-06-02T14:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T14:54:48.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This man.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.orcutt.net/images/hwsg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 278px;" src="http://www.orcutt.net/images/hwsg.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&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;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame Ernest Hemingway for my government homework not being completed. I wonder if my teacher will take that excuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, I went to the library to check out the workbook and everything was going smoothly until the cute boy that worked behind the reserves desk told me that I couldn't check the book out because I had an overdue book.&lt;br /&gt;He told me to keep the call number that the librarian wrote down for me. I wanted to be like "I'll keep this call number, and you should give me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;your&lt;/span&gt; call number" but as we all know, I'm no smooth talker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I checked out that Hemingway book for an English paper and I'm pretty sure that I didn't even use it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you're thinking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Regine, why don't you just turn the book in&lt;/span&gt;? I would if I could find it. I seem to have misplaced it in packing and moving 3 times this summer. It sucks because I was actually planning on doing my homework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I've learned from this experience:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't ever check out library books&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't ever try to do homework&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Boys that work at the library are hot&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take no responsibility for this inconvenience. I made an effort.&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Hemingway is out to get me, that's all there is to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-1058811078339727286?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/1058811078339727286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/this-man.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1058811078339727286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/1058811078339727286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/this-man.html' title='This man.'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4343312951053600526.post-5417985855550468082</id><published>2009-06-01T23:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T23:26:33.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This stuff</title><content type='html'>So now I can comment on Laura and Kevin's stuff.&lt;br /&gt;Also, I'll post stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yessir.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4343312951053600526-5417985855550468082?l=sloganmachine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/feeds/5417985855550468082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/this-stuff.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/5417985855550468082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4343312951053600526/posts/default/5417985855550468082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sloganmachine.blogspot.com/2009/06/this-stuff.html' title='This stuff'/><author><name>fact_not_fiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02655615770077739186</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
