<?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-5164088292476554150</id><updated>2011-09-28T12:29:43.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JENN ... I own this mess</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>sojen09</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06449508883740831978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/Srg88qVxMFI/AAAAAAAAABI/RFlpmq3BAKE/S220/n661570536_4403.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164088292476554150.post-6156288667947181406</id><published>2010-12-30T14:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T15:12:02.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Realized: Chelsea and Derek</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0NVw-_3FI/AAAAAAAAAC0/uEDPNOqOVgc/s1600/P9120242.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0NVw-_3FI/AAAAAAAAAC0/uEDPNOqOVgc/s320/P9120242.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556612182822607954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;" &gt;Aside from new babies, ne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;" &gt;w mothers must be the most beautiful creatures on earth.  ~Terri Guillemets&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chelsea contacted my via email.  She had come across my work through my sister-in-law's Facebook page.  I was excited to hear that Chelsea and her husband, Derek were expecting a baby very soon.  They wanted to do some Maternity photos and then some new born photos as well, once the baby was born.  We met at Kal beach in Vernon on a sunny after&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0NfeEx33I/AAAAAAAAAC8/uLKM2VklJ78/s1600/chelsea11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0NfeEx33I/AAAAAAAAAC8/uLKM2VklJ78/s320/chelsea11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556612349545275250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;noon.  We really lucked out with the weather being so beautiful.  It was actually warm enough that we were able to comfortably shoot on the dock.  From the moment I met Chelsea and Derek I knew their shots were going to be great.  They were warm, kind and they were sweet to one another.  Derek was eager to help with anything I needed and helped Chelsea get into any position I suggested.  I felt a strong protective sense in him and instantly knew that he was going to be a great father.  Chelsea had a vibe about her that made me certain that she would take care of anyone who needed her.  The perfect mother.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0NzbI1upI/AAAAAAAAADE/VP8VATp5Evk/s1600/P9303514.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0NzbI1upI/AAAAAAAAADE/VP8VATp5Evk/s320/P9303514.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556612692354382482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks later they contacted me to let me know that they their new baby boy, Devon, had been born not long after our shoot.  I was very excited to come out to the house to meet the little guy.  I drove out to their beautiful (absolutely stunning) home in Enderby to shoot Devon.  He was so precious.. I want to smuggle him home with me.  Although Devon, was a little distressed when we took his clothes off.. he was instantly soothed in Mommy's arms (ju&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0OM7ILCwI/AAAAAAAAADM/BM7TnhcJN04/s1600/P9273500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0OM7ILCwI/AAAAAAAAADM/BM7TnhcJN04/s320/P9273500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556613130438249218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;st as I imagined he would be).  I adore their little family.. and can't wait to shoot them again.  Which we do have planned .. so stay tuned for more of this lovely family.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0OdnHye-I/AAAAAAAAADU/wnbaPOx5a7o/s1600/Chelsea20.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0OdnHye-I/AAAAAAAAADU/wnbaPOx5a7o/s320/Chelsea20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556613417125706722" 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/5164088292476554150-6156288667947181406?l=sojen09.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/feeds/6156288667947181406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5164088292476554150&amp;postID=6156288667947181406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/6156288667947181406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/6156288667947181406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/2010/12/aside-from-new-babies-ne-w-mothers-must.html' title='Life Realized: Chelsea and Derek'/><author><name>sojen09</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06449508883740831978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/Srg88qVxMFI/AAAAAAAAABI/RFlpmq3BAKE/S220/n661570536_4403.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TR0NVw-_3FI/AAAAAAAAAC0/uEDPNOqOVgc/s72-c/P9120242.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164088292476554150.post-1911535498709647151</id><published>2010-12-30T12:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T13:44:57.972-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Inspiring Love: Kara and Ashton</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TRz80N6LiZI/AAAAAAAAACU/PgYZebqoG38/s1600/PB110281z.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TRz80N6LiZI/AAAAAAAAACU/PgYZebqoG38/s320/PB110281z.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556594014285433234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Babies are such a nice way to start people!"&lt;br /&gt;-Don Herrold&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met Kara and Ashton on  a lovely November afternoon.  Their photoshoot had been a gift given to them by Ashton's sister, Brittany.  I was excited to shoot the couple, knowing that they were expecting a boy in December.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the moment I first shook their hands I knew that they were special.  Kara had a smile that was warm and contagious.  Ashton was both stylish and fun.. and their was a certain vibe about him that said "protective new dad."  Everything about this couple made me certain that they were going to be wonderful new parents.  We shot in the park and then at Kara's mother's home in the stair &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TRz9PAEMXEI/AAAAAAAAACk/4ELZkRvtkQo/s1600/PB114457a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TRz9PAEMXEI/AAAAAAAAACk/4ELZkRvtkQo/s320/PB114457a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556594474425801794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;well.  For me as the photographer, I felt that the scenery was irrelevant to this shoot.. the couple was so charismatic and sincerely happy.  Nothing in the background would have even come close to comparing with their energy and beauty.. for me it was a perfect shoot.  Even after we had finished up.. I kept up &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TRz8qghzjKI/AAAAAAAAACM/e9x5wTHoReI/s1600/PB114458a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TRz8qghzjKI/AAAAAAAAACM/e9x5wTHoReI/s320/PB114458a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556593847484779682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;to date on the progress of the pregnancy.. and was happy to hear that on &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;December 10th  at 3:04pm Grayson Timothy Robin Light was born, weighing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TRz8_fcMXHI/AAAAAAAAACc/lkz3n4eDkCk/s1600/PB114432a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TRz8_fcMXHI/AAAAAAAAACc/lkz3n4eDkCk/s320/PB114432a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556594207970057330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;11lbs 3oz.  CO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NGRATS!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5164088292476554150-1911535498709647151?l=sojen09.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/feeds/1911535498709647151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5164088292476554150&amp;postID=1911535498709647151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/1911535498709647151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/1911535498709647151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/2010/12/inspiring-love-kara-and-ashton.html' title='Inspiring Love: Kara and Ashton'/><author><name>sojen09</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06449508883740831978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/Srg88qVxMFI/AAAAAAAAABI/RFlpmq3BAKE/S220/n661570536_4403.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/TRz80N6LiZI/AAAAAAAAACU/PgYZebqoG38/s72-c/PB110281z.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164088292476554150.post-3952354400884980283</id><published>2009-09-29T19:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T19:32:43.844-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Inconsiderate is the norm??</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id="msgcns!BDC8CF6FBD1FF78D!1242" class="bvMsg"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff99cc;"&gt;I consider myself a fairly laid back person.  I can take a lot of shit before I get really mad.  There are a few things however that piss me off.  Inconsideration is top of my list, followed closely by unecassary rudeness.  Why.. are you unaware that there are other people on the planet?  That's one of my 900 reasons not to have kids... I just can't be responsible for putting another inconsiderate human being on the planet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff99cc;"&gt;I had a soccer game in Vernon tonight and we played the best team in the league.  It is safe to say we were huffing and puffing like nothing else.. oh and losing.  It was bad enough that the other team was practically running circles around us... but what was worse was coming off the feild for a sub or half time and having to choke down second hand smoke.  Yes one of the spectators felt it was not at all inconsiderate to sit there and chain smoke beside us.  I am not a smoker.. and for a reason at that.  I hate smoke... but at soccer... are you kidding me!!  Total disregard for anyone but herself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff99cc;"&gt;Before my game I went to get something to eat with my best friend at a little coffee shop.  Just needed a sandwich.. something for fuel.  I took a call from my boss while we were sitting outside that was fairly important.  The lady infront of me did not appreciate the fact that I was on the phone, which is fair enough, but she decided to make a scene instead of saying something politely.  We were outside on a patio and I was not the only person on the phone.  The lady decided to go off about how she couldnt hear her friend and I was so rude.  I was actually stunned, it was such an unecassary reaction.  Had she politely said "excuse me mam.. I am sorry I am just having trouble hearing my friend.."  I would have been like "Oh my god.. I am so sorry."  But because she decided to be rude to me I just stuck my hand up in her face and kept talking.  Marina, who was sitting there was even taken aback at what an aggresive approach this lady took.  I was actually speaking with less volume than another girl on the patio.  Why the unecassary rudeness?  I just dont get people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff99cc;"&gt;When I am out in public I make an effort to say please and thank you.  I show respect to others regardless of the situation and try my best to be conscious of other people and not only myself.... apparently I am the only one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5164088292476554150-3952354400884980283?l=sojen09.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/feeds/3952354400884980283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5164088292476554150&amp;postID=3952354400884980283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/3952354400884980283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/3952354400884980283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/2009/09/inconsiderate-is-norm.html' title='Inconsiderate is the norm??'/><author><name>sojen09</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06449508883740831978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/Srg88qVxMFI/AAAAAAAAABI/RFlpmq3BAKE/S220/n661570536_4403.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164088292476554150.post-5325727078696971232</id><published>2009-09-21T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T19:50:42.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am..</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i am: who I am, regardless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i think: it’s OK to not have all the answers, all the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i know: more than you think I do about things you would never imagine me knowing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i have: not always been a good daughter, sister, friend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i hate: losing control&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i don't: feel like I have accomplished enough professionally&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i can't: always say what I want to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i can: adjust my personality to get the best out of the people around me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i won't: let anyone push me too far, I know my limits&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i will: usually think before I react&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i miss: the freedom of being 19.. the endless possibilities.. but not the uncertainties&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i fear: losing the people I love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i feel: like I am know who I am.. and don't need to be constantly reminded I am worthy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i hear: my self doubt at inappropriate times&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i crave: the endorphin rush of intense competition&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i wonder: how much will change, how quickly and where i will be this time next year &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i regret: wasting so much time on being afraid &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i love: how it all turned out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i dream: because I know that reality can be hard to handle on it's own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i long: to tell the truth always, without fear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i care: about the people in my life more than I let on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i always: hide a little bit of what I am feeling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i am not: always honest about what I need from others&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i believe: that bitterness makes you ugly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i sing: a lot more than people know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i smile: because I am, for the most part, happy with my life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i laugh: whenever I can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i collect: hard learned lessons&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i play: sports.. not mind games&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i write: whenever I can.. but not nearly enough&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i await: what..? whatever happens....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i trust: my instincts about people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i intend: to do better the next time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i search: for something to inspire me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i look: too far into the future and too deep into the past&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i whisper: when I am overtired or feeling sorry for myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i listen: to everything people tell me, even if it bores me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i ignore: the ambivalence I feel towards certain things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i conquer: whatever I set out to, it just takes time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva';"&gt;i live: with my mistakes but never leave anything completely.. until it is finished&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5164088292476554150-5325727078696971232?l=sojen09.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/feeds/5325727078696971232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5164088292476554150&amp;postID=5325727078696971232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/5325727078696971232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/5325727078696971232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-am.html' title='I am..'/><author><name>sojen09</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06449508883740831978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/Srg88qVxMFI/AAAAAAAAABI/RFlpmq3BAKE/S220/n661570536_4403.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164088292476554150.post-1490642236282460789</id><published>2009-04-03T23:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T23:30:29.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Is It Hurting Now?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I have had moments in my life when I have contributed by being  compliant&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I have reduced myself to make others feel brilliant or absent of  fault&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;And I have given my heart uncritically to someone who could not see past  their own devices&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I have pretended to be less and denied myself to somehow make us  compatible&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I have challenged myself to look past the moment at times when things  looked very bleak&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I have questioned and resolved but have yet to acknowledge what really  happened&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;And I let myself become undeniably jealous, afraid of your complete  disregard for me&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I have been the biggest hypocrite, been truly bizarre and changed all the  rules&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;But who is it hurting now?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5164088292476554150-1490642236282460789?l=sojen09.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/feeds/1490642236282460789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5164088292476554150&amp;postID=1490642236282460789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/1490642236282460789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/1490642236282460789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/2009/04/who-is-it-hurting-now.html' title='Who Is It Hurting Now?'/><author><name>sojen09</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06449508883740831978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/Srg88qVxMFI/AAAAAAAAABI/RFlpmq3BAKE/S220/n661570536_4403.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164088292476554150.post-3997574281790910869</id><published>2007-09-26T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T16:39:30.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Wish I Was Still 19</title><content type='html'>If I was 19 it would have went something like this.. "I don't remember the last weekend I WASN"T drunk."  Sadly (I think sadly??) the tides have turned and I have washed up on shore.... 26 years old and completely friggin boring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even have drinks with my boyfriend on a regular basis.  He has martini's and I have Kool-aid.  Ok well it is more like he has beer and I have a diet coke.... but whatever, it is the same thing.  When I go out I always drive and so I don't drink.  When did I get this responsible?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Saturday night I went to a fundraiser for my soccer team and I was sitting with some old friends, Kelly and Melina, that I hadn't really hung out with since I was 22. We were laughing about old times.  The first night I met Melina we entered a contest at a beach party that consisted of us rubbing sun tan lotion all over each other on stage.  It ended up being the kind that BURNS and we were covered in painful red streaks!!  I would NEVER do that now (..ok so I am kind of glad about that but still..). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being young and silly definatly had it's appeal.  I liked the idea that my job wasn't forever and that I could run away from any given situation and there would still be a lot of time to make things right.  The things I was afraid of were more a long the lines of; not having something to do on a saturday night, not ever finding a good man, and moving a way from my best friend and still being about to have a good time.  I worried that I couldn't choose between an ex and his best friend and that I might not lose 5 lbs before next weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As an adult I worry about money (do I make enough?? am I saving enough??), work (am I doing a good job?? will I get promoted??), my man (if he is unhappy will I know?? will I know soon enough to change it... will I be able to??).  Instead of my weight, I worry about my "health."  I never thought this would be me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think that it would be easier to go back and live with my mom and step dad, go back to high school and talk on the phone 24/7.  Sometimes I look at my life right now and think "Damn, I am lucky."  I suppose it is like this for everyone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe that living in a constant state of nostalgia is healthy. That is not what I am saying, I am just saying......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAMN.. I really don't want to work tomorrow... I wish I could go out, party like a rockstar and sleep till noon.  That would be sweet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5164088292476554150-3997574281790910869?l=sojen09.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/feeds/3997574281790910869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5164088292476554150&amp;postID=3997574281790910869' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/3997574281790910869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/3997574281790910869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-wish-i-was-still-19.html' title='I Wish I Was Still 19'/><author><name>sojen09</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06449508883740831978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/Srg88qVxMFI/AAAAAAAAABI/RFlpmq3BAKE/S220/n661570536_4403.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164088292476554150.post-3809577560496093126</id><published>2007-09-20T14:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T14:04:43.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Know The Secret!</title><content type='html'>One of the funniest things I encounter running my store is the “sale hunters.”  They think they’re smart because they find stuff for five or ten dollars.  But really the joke is on them… I watch people buy shit they will never wear and weren’t looking for in the first place just because it’s five dollars.  Come on people, it’s five dollars because it wouldn’t sell at a higher price… which translates into “it’s ugly.”  People come in and buy like 6 different colors of the same thing because it’s on “sale.”  Basically you just spent 6 times the money for something you only really needed/wanted one of … good job genius.  Did I mention that “sale” is ugly. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I am not really a browser shopper personally.  I know what I want and find it.  Usually I see it somewhere or I get an idea of the general look I am after and go get the items to make it happen.  If I go into a store to look around I never look at the sale rack.  See, I know the secret ….people will actually spend more money on “sale” than they ever will on regular price.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Take Walmart for example (I despise Walmart by the way.. the parking lot alone makes me want to kill myself ) but they are clever.  Their slogan is “Everyday Low Prices” or something of that nature but really it should say “we lower the prices a tiny bit so you will walk out with more than you came for.. and then some and now we are the richest people in the world”  Sam Walton (Walmart’s founder) family's holdings in Wal-Mart, if combined, would comprise the US's largest fortune; at $100 billion combined they are significantly ahead of Bill Gates.  Given that information, it’s not at all surprising that retailers all over the world are now opening Outlets everywhere.  People are addicted to the “sale” mentality… even if it isn’t actually saving them money.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I witness this everyday.  If people are oblivious to this demented rational and keep buying 9 pairs of the same pants, all I can do is laugh.  Of course I am not really laughing at them when I am cruising to the bank every month to cash my bonus check.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5164088292476554150-3809577560496093126?l=sojen09.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/feeds/3809577560496093126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5164088292476554150&amp;postID=3809577560496093126' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/3809577560496093126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/3809577560496093126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-know-secret.html' title='I Know The Secret!'/><author><name>sojen09</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06449508883740831978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/Srg88qVxMFI/AAAAAAAAABI/RFlpmq3BAKE/S220/n661570536_4403.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164088292476554150.post-9151826104939870620</id><published>2007-09-18T11:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T11:43:45.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriage and Other Disturbances</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#3366ff;"&gt;There are two distinct things about marriage I find annoying. The first thing is woman that are obsessed with getting married. The second is men who are obsessed with not getting married. Too both of these people I want to say, grow up, get real and quit trying so hard.&lt;br /&gt;There are hundreds of them... crazy women who are obsessed with getting married. I am not sure which they are more insane about .. the marriage or just the wedding. Regardless it's insane. Recently I went with a girlfriend (she lives out of town and came to see me at the mall) to pick out her own engagement ring (is this right??). The ones that she were looking at were huge and outlandishly expensive.. we are talking like $3000.00 and up!! That is insane to me. Anyhow she asked me which one I liked and so I pointed it out. The sales person and my friend laughed at me and he said “that one is 108.00!!” They said it like I had completely lost my mind. Apparently that is the kind of ring high school guys get their girlfriends for Christmas... oops my bad. We looked through the bridal magazine and the girls in the store talked of nothing else for the rest of the day (they looked too). It all seemed kind of complicated and expensive. I like the idea of city hall and then a reception or a beach by myself... (oh yah and him). All of the girls disagreed with me and shot all sorts of arguments at me but at the end of the day, I have to wonder if these are the same people that are getting divorced because they are more in love with the idea of getting married then they are the reality of being married.&lt;br /&gt;At the same time men who say “I am never getting married,” drive me crazy too. I hear this and I hear.. “ I am a pussy, I am scared of commitment.. at least long term anyhow, I like to go against the status quo cuz I am big and bad .. and I want to have my cake and eat it too.” I hear a lot in this statement lol. The statement “I am not ready to get married” however, I completely respect. I even think a man can be completely head over heels for a women and still be not ready to get married. I think it is how close minded “I am never getting married” is, that turns me off. It is so final and makes me feel that there is always more to that statement then is being said. If a man says to his woman “I am never getting married,” I think he is actually saying “I am never going to marry you.” I know of a girl, a beautiful girl that is going through this with a man. They have been together for 6 years and he still maintains that he isn't sure about marriage. First it was, I need to buy a house first, then it was I need to get to “here” in my career... and so it goes. On and on they have been setting a date to decide whether or not he will marry her... and she always says “he has till ________ to decide and if he says no, then we will go our separate ways.” She told me this when we first met in 2001 and I ran into her the other day and apparently he now has till Thanksgiving to decide.&lt;br /&gt;Personally, yes I want to get married one day. I respect the institution of marriage because in a world that is in dire need for people to commit to the things in their life and take responsibility for their actions, I think it makes a strong statement. I realize that it is easy for people to get divorced and what not, but that doesn't change the way I see it. I don't believe we should be unhappy, but I do believe that it has become far too easy to just walk away from things that are hard. I think marriage signifies that you are not afraid to say that you are “off the market for good” and that you believe in someone else enough to take that chance. That being said, I am not in a hurry for this to happen. I have no time line for myself or my future in this regard. I just know its something that I believe in and ultimately would like for myself, but it in no way defines me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5164088292476554150-9151826104939870620?l=sojen09.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/feeds/9151826104939870620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5164088292476554150&amp;postID=9151826104939870620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/9151826104939870620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/9151826104939870620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/2007/09/there-are-two-distinct-things-about.html' title='Marriage and Other Disturbances'/><author><name>sojen09</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06449508883740831978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/Srg88qVxMFI/AAAAAAAAABI/RFlpmq3BAKE/S220/n661570536_4403.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164088292476554150.post-1007130379585397834</id><published>2007-09-16T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T21:46:33.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gossip</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Guys fight when they have a problem with another guy. Girls Gossip. Ok... so everyone gossips. But girls... and especially girls in groups NOW that is a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ofcourse I work in a mall.. which is the equilavent to being in highschool for the rest of my life, so I pretty much get a front row seat to the worst gossip around. I try to stay out of it for the simple fact that, gossip never did a good thing for anyone, but occasionally I can be caught saying my peice.. or being the topic. I REALLY try to avoid being the topic. For example when I  have met a new guy and they tell me they know one of my staff, or someone in the mall...I dont ask about them. I'd rather go on the date and decide for myself. Nothing good is ever said when people gossip... things get misconstrued and the new guy goes from "nice guy" to "nice guy who slept with my friend's, sister's cousin when he was suppose to be dating my sister's, boyfriend's mother"... or whatever. You get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always thought that as I got older I would be less interesting to people around me... apparently not so. I was 19 when I started managing and I got attacked for being young and successful. Tough run when 30 year olds work for you. I still assumed that by 27 (my current age) no one would care anymore. So when I hear something about me I am still surprised. Why bother talking about me.. I dont go out, I have never slept with anyone's boyfriend, I dont even know yours, and most of my friends dont even live in town anymore. I am not extrodinarily pretty and I dont have a smokin hot body.. so you cant hate me on that alone. What else is there? I am not even funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless... I still get talked about. I walk into another store in the mall and a girl I have never seen in my life will say, "Hey Jenn... did you go to Vernon this weekend? my friend's brother's cousin said he saw you at the movies sunday!" OK.... and you are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my staff told me the other day that her friend saw me at the grocery store and proceeded to tell her what type of the food I was buying...."she makes very healthy choices" she told my employee. I asked who it was and she said "oh you dont know her..." Excellent. Amusing in a sense... but kinda creepy all the same.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, I have no megadrama's in my life or it would be national news I think sometimes. Part of me wants to get in one of those really disfunctional relationships where we fight and break up every second day... and maybe I can beat the guy or just be totally manipulating (note: I AM NOT LIKE THAT). Atleast it would make things interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the bigger question is why bother? Why do we have to hold on to others troubles in order to let ours go. If we are miserable nothing makes a feel better like listening to a story about someone who is more miserable than us. Some people go as far as making others miserable just so they can feel better.... but thats a whole other topic. I mean I am definatly guilty of spread "the word" from time to time but experience had taught me to think twice before opening my mouth... and hey its gonna get around anyway... all the better if it cant be traced back to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alot of people will tell something to get back at someone else. Gossip as revenge. There is probably nothing more violent. Guys are criticized for fighting to solve problems... I think they may be on to something. I have watched gossip elliminate opportunity, create a bad reputation for someone and destroy confidence. And I have had it done to me. I know that I am strong enough to handle what people dish out.. I know who I am. I know what I am about and I know how far I can be pushed.. and its pretty damn far. But what about the ones who cant. I have watched girls cry and disappear at the cost of others... I have watched alot. Next time you have a problem with someone I seriously recomend a good old fashion fist fight.. really I do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5164088292476554150-1007130379585397834?l=sojen09.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/feeds/1007130379585397834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5164088292476554150&amp;postID=1007130379585397834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/1007130379585397834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164088292476554150/posts/default/1007130379585397834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sojen09.blogspot.com/2007/09/gossip.html' title='Gossip'/><author><name>sojen09</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06449508883740831978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uJdHlGn8Y-8/Srg88qVxMFI/AAAAAAAAABI/RFlpmq3BAKE/S220/n661570536_4403.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
