<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;A0IMSHk9eyp7ImA9WhRRFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340</id><updated>2011-11-27T18:19:49.763-06:00</updated><category term="Holidays" /><category term="Straws" /><category term="Cutting" /><category term="Silliness" /><category term="Short Story" /><category term="Airport" /><category term="Aliens" /><category term="soccer" /><category term="Musings" /><category term="Friends" /><category term="Well Wishes" /><category term="Duke" /><category term="Passion" /><category term="Milestone" /><category term="Uruguay" /><category term="Milk" /><category term="Pet Peeves" /><category term="Raft" /><category term="Stepping Stones" /><category term="Cabana Boy" /><category term="planning" /><category term="Rainbows" /><category term="Dear Readers" /><category term="Squals" /><category term="Work" /><category term="interwebs" /><category term="Trina" /><category term="Writing" /><category term="Memoir" /><category term="Nerd Fighters" /><category term="The Sleepies" /><category term="Swimming" /><category term="Dear Mama" /><category term="money" /><title>Can the Siren sing?</title><subtitle type="html">It is said a siren is made to sing, to lure sailors to their deaths with their beautiful songs. They were created for the single purpose of singing their songs. And so it is with me; I feel in my very bones that my life was created to write. My entire being is destined to word dance into peoples hearts and change them with the words on my heart. This is my journey to find my song, my dance, my words.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>71</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/CanTheSirenSing" /><feedburner:info uri="canthesirensing" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcHSHo6fyp7ImA9WhZWF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-3761913681725076395</id><published>2011-05-18T20:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T20:53:59.417-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-18T20:53:59.417-05:00</app:edited><title>I coulda been...</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/3825567718/" title="Spiny Lobster"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2512/3825567718_aa0c2703b4.jpg" alt="Spiny Lobster by blue.shark" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="margin: 0;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/3825567718/"&gt;Spiny Lobster&lt;/a&gt;, a photo by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt; on Flickr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;So some girls at my work just recently left our job to go pursue nursing careers. And this got me thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to be a doctor, but blood is yucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to be a cop, but Im completely afraid of the dark and of dead things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be a helicopter pilot, but Im afraid of heights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be a firefighter, but I like setting fires too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could be a chef, but I have a habit of sneaking food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was telling a girl at work this and she said, "Well, looks like this job is the right one for you!" I think shes right.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-3761913681725076395?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ao0yeYVrChUz3I2I1d3MHKXnptQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ao0yeYVrChUz3I2I1d3MHKXnptQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ao0yeYVrChUz3I2I1d3MHKXnptQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ao0yeYVrChUz3I2I1d3MHKXnptQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/EtRD5sG25aA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/3761913681725076395/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-coulda-been.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/3761913681725076395?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/3761913681725076395?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/EtRD5sG25aA/i-coulda-been.html" title="I coulda been..." /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2512/3825567718_aa0c2703b4_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-coulda-been.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IFSHo-fCp7ImA9WhZWFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-5684106576726784710</id><published>2011-05-16T06:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T06:31:59.454-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-16T06:31:59.454-05:00</app:edited><title>Truth</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/4723408138/" title="Anthias at Fantasea"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1192/4723408138_578905181b.jpg" alt="Anthias at Fantasea by blue.shark" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="margin: 0;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/4723408138/"&gt;Anthias at Fantasea&lt;/a&gt;, a photo by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt; on Flickr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;I jogged 2 kilometers the other day. Im really proud of myself. I think Ima make it! Im not even worried about collapsing and dying in the middle of that 5k race at the end of the month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright fine, thats not really all that true. I walk/jogged that 2k... but it was uphill! So I was still workin hard on the whole thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ug ok so only half of it was uphill. I finally got to the top of the hill, said a few cuss words and turned around and jogged back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*le sigh* So I didnt jog back home. I walked uphill for 1k and then it wasnt exactly jogging. It was more like wobbly legged shuffling with my tongue hanging out one side. Thankfully it was downhill, gravity was doing most of the work for me and I was planning on calling my roomie to have him come pick me up, but he was asleep at the time and frankly, he would take so long to get there, I would probably just stop and take a nap on the side of the road. So I just kept flopping my legs infront of me as gravity pulled me down hill. Its still good right? I mean 2k is further then I walked yesterday. Or the day before. Or for the last 5 years I think.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-5684106576726784710?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Mx7f7de_dl9mhLNXWA_o6ECTG1w/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Mx7f7de_dl9mhLNXWA_o6ECTG1w/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Mx7f7de_dl9mhLNXWA_o6ECTG1w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Mx7f7de_dl9mhLNXWA_o6ECTG1w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/H6JMi3jpCXk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/5684106576726784710/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/truth.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/5684106576726784710?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/5684106576726784710?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/H6JMi3jpCXk/truth.html" title="Truth" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1192/4723408138_578905181b_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/truth.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YNR3o7eCp7ImA9WhZWFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-5342598520766049892</id><published>2011-05-15T00:57:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T00:59:56.400-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-15T00:59:56.400-05:00</app:edited><title>I have issues (kinda like this dude)</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/3959882777/" title="Sarcastic Fringhead"&gt;&lt;img alt="Sarcastic Fringhead by blue.shark" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2592/3959882777_47cbb85734.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/3959882777/"&gt;Sarcastic Fringhead&lt;/a&gt;, a photo by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt; on Flickr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The other day was an off day if Ive ever seen one. Ever since I walked thru the revolving door the wrong way, the day just went to shit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And yes, apparently it is possible to go the wrong way in a revolving door. What I learned first hand, was that one side has a metal bar and you push that. The wrong side noticibly does not have said metal bar and you end up pushing against the glass and not getting very far.&lt;br /&gt;
Dont worry tho, if you are anything like me, that lady waiting for you to finish making a fool of yourself will be helpful and the conversation will go like this.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You: Am I going the wrong way?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Helpful Lady: Yep...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You: Well alright then. *push grunt push*&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And someone please tell me why I just realized Ive posted the last story all of like three times now!&lt;br /&gt;
In my defense, they took down the original because the website was having issues and I posted the second before I saw them repost the first. Yeah... or I just have issues. Case in point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-5342598520766049892?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KVbRYjnvVk_caTp0x77apNfangs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KVbRYjnvVk_caTp0x77apNfangs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KVbRYjnvVk_caTp0x77apNfangs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KVbRYjnvVk_caTp0x77apNfangs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/BrTRGdaWC6c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/5342598520766049892/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-have-issues-kinda-like-this-dude.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/5342598520766049892?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/5342598520766049892?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/BrTRGdaWC6c/i-have-issues-kinda-like-this-dude.html" title="I have issues (kinda like this dude)" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2592/3959882777_47cbb85734_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-have-issues-kinda-like-this-dude.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YBSHg4fSp7ImA9WhZWFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-7059778951062432433</id><published>2011-05-14T16:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T16:39:19.635-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-14T16:39:19.635-05:00</app:edited><title>10 Headlights</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/3696490673/" title="Fireworks 2"&gt;&lt;img alt="Fireworks 2 by blue.shark" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2447/3696490673_239d4f6b3a.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/3696490673/"&gt;Fireworks 2&lt;/a&gt;, a photo by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt; on Flickr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I cant believe they deleted like the best post Ive ever posted. Whatever, Im not bitter.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
IM TOTALLY BITTER.&lt;br /&gt;
So yesterday I was listening to Elton John's "Tony Danza" while jogging one morning. (For those of you that prefer the correct title its "Tiny Dancer") The part that stuck with me was 'counting headlights on the highway.' This will make sense in a bit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Im determined to do this 5k at the end of the month. Im determined to remain upright thru the whole thing and not die really. But I found this website that allows me to map my runs and I can see how far away someplace is. So I found this place to go to thats about 5k to go there and back home. The problem with the website is it doesnt tell you which streets are busy and which streets dont have sidewalks.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So 5:30 in the *badword* morning and here I am jogging my bum down to the military base. I got to this part on a very busy street where the sidewalk dies. So rather then play frogger for 5k, I decided to run in the ditch. Im sure you can already imagine how this story is gonna go.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You know that way of falling when your momentum is going forward and you try to go faster to catch up with yourself? And eventually end up barreling towards whatever obstacle is coming up, may it be the ground or a wall? In my case it was a post. Like a telephone post.&lt;br /&gt;
To further illistrate my point, check out this link at :31 to see what Im talking about.&lt;br /&gt;
And as I was running and trying not to eat it, racing straight towards this post, I started counting the headlights on the highway. 10 to be exact. 5 cars with at least 5 people in them watched me kinda eat it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-7059778951062432433?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pUff-2IjzgEVvEZkjThp38Dr9bU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pUff-2IjzgEVvEZkjThp38Dr9bU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/EIBDqu4IM_4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/7059778951062432433/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/fireworks-2.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/7059778951062432433?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/7059778951062432433?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/EIBDqu4IM_4/fireworks-2.html" title="10 Headlights" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2447/3696490673_239d4f6b3a_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/fireworks-2.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4NQH47fCp7ImA9WhZWE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-4816835723630210432</id><published>2011-05-13T12:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T12:33:11.004-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-13T12:33:11.004-05:00</app:edited><title>Ug Neighbors</title><content type="html">Ill be honest. There are times when I feel like I cannot say what I want to say on here because of the people or the religious affiliation of the people that read this blog. It causes me to hold back. Sadly, it makes me feel like I cant be me and I cant say all the things I want to say. So Im not going to anymore. I am who I am and if it bothers you, well then I will have one regular reader instead of two! (sorry Mom, but dont worry, Ill always find some reason to&amp;nbsp;apologize&amp;nbsp;to you in every post... apparently its a thing.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That being said, my old neighbor took a face dive off his roof on Easter and dared to bleed in my yard. Naturally, I started shouting at my roommate who I call Odin. The shouts went something like this, "Odin! That old man fell off the roof! You go out there while I call 911, you know how I do with dead things."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have found my new pet peeve. Its nosey neighbors. Apparently when you have a police car, a fire truck and an ambulance all parked out front, everyone and their grandmother (literally) come tromping thru my grass to see what all the fuss was about. Of course they used the excuse of wanting to come introduce themselves. You know, because everyone spends their Easter Sunday afternoon flouncing around peoples yards introducing yourselves to the neighbors.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-4816835723630210432?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hB1AiCIo7wRPgTpTcN3ulbd6Ve8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hB1AiCIo7wRPgTpTcN3ulbd6Ve8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hB1AiCIo7wRPgTpTcN3ulbd6Ve8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hB1AiCIo7wRPgTpTcN3ulbd6Ve8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/CsjymPxRmeA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/4816835723630210432/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/ug-neighbors.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/4816835723630210432?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/4816835723630210432?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/CsjymPxRmeA/ug-neighbors.html" title="Ug Neighbors" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/ug-neighbors.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkMERXY_fCp7ImA9WhZWE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-1101869944671910050</id><published>2011-05-12T09:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T15:26:44.844-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-13T15:26:44.844-05:00</app:edited><title>Im hungry!</title><content type="html">Currently, I am listening to Elton John's Tiny Dancer. This song stirrs nostaliga in me. Which is silly since I wasnt even born when this song came out. For as silly as I am, the line that resonates with me is 'count the headlights on the highway'. Mostly because of my experience yesterday morning.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I decided that by the end of this month, I would at least shuffle thru a 5k that is being held in Little Rock. My company is sponsoring it. My goal before my birthday was to run a marathon and while I highly doubt that will happen, I need to stop hiding from my goals and at least try for them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So there I was, half asleep, wondering if the sun would be coming up at all yesterday morning. I had found this website that helps me see how far Ive run so I had it all down. I was ready to go until I realized I had chosen a route on a busy street with no sidewalks. Refusing to use that as an excuse to give up, I starting trying to speed walk thru a ditch. As you can imagine it didnt go well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You know that way of falling when your momentum is ahead of you and you cannot seem to catch up with it, no matter how fast you run? So you end up doubled over and barreling forward, trying to keep your face from that first bite of asphalt? Right so I was doing that straight into a pole right in front of a line of cars.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To further illistrate my point, &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvH1FVUWl2I"&gt;&amp;nbsp;this link&lt;/a&gt; will take you to a video of people falling. Which, is classic in itself, but if you watch at 58 seconds, the woman sliding down the slide, thats what Im talking about. Like a duck running.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was thankfully falling parallel to the road so I wasnt in danger, but those cars that were driving by at the time, I was counting those headlights in the early dawn light. 10 headlights to be exact... 5 cards with at least 5 people watching me faceplant. It was a good morning.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This idea brings me to a new subject. (Not really, I just needed a transition of some sort.) One of my coworkers has lost a lot of weight and I was asking her some questions about it. She gave me some tools that look like they could really help me. She also told me that eventually, your stomach adjusts to your new meal size and eventually you stop being hungry. Well let me tell you, three pounds down, three days into it and Im still hungry. Ive started fantasizing like that lion on Madagascar. You know when he starts running up and chewing on the zebra? Yeah... Im hungreh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-1101869944671910050?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Bv_A1qRI15FDqLBiWFV0_HyrDJ0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Bv_A1qRI15FDqLBiWFV0_HyrDJ0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Bv_A1qRI15FDqLBiWFV0_HyrDJ0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Bv_A1qRI15FDqLBiWFV0_HyrDJ0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/sniyAFPgGgU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/1101869944671910050/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/im-hungry.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/1101869944671910050?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/1101869944671910050?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/sniyAFPgGgU/im-hungry.html" title="Im hungry!" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/05/im-hungry.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcERX05eyp7ImA9WhZSFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-3935412141075339135</id><published>2011-03-30T10:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T10:46:44.323-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-30T10:46:44.323-05:00</app:edited><title>The Boat Name is Beluga</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/5501888544/" title="Synergy Russian Sailing Team"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5013/5501888544_8eb7afbb04.jpg" alt="Synergy Russian Sailing Team by blue.shark" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="margin: 0;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/5501888544/"&gt;Synergy Russian Sailing Team&lt;/a&gt;, a photo by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt; on Flickr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thats why I chose this picture. (for those of you that wouldnt get it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... I am just going to say it. Hello world, I am fat. From a young age, I started my love affair with food that has yet to end. I used to eat fast. Fast as in I used to eat like my life depended on finishing that meal in three seconds flat. I was a serious eater.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of my inability to slow down, I used to steal food. Sorry mom, but Im putting it out there. I would sneak a biscut or, and I am so sad to admit this, butter. Yep... I used to steal butter. Sad thing is it wasnt even real butter. We used that stuff in the brownish-grey tub and I used to eat it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, we are all gagging right now, it's not just you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not easy for me to write these things. I am ashamed of this blog post. However, for as difficult as this writing is, I feel like it needs to be written. This is no longer about you, whatever audience I have on here, its about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it should have always been about me, but I never really felt I deserved something to be all about me. Not really anyway. If you know me, you know I joke about being queen of the world and everything revolving around me, but that is all just silly jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think, for the first time, I feel like this is about me simply because it should be. This need to feel like the person I know I can be, this need to stop depending on food to control my emotions or hide from whatever pain. These ways I have enambled myself into obesity are no longer acceptable. So now we've opened the door. I guess we just go through it now right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-3935412141075339135?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nQ9nmAI2ucWn9WWGLVZqX4J95aM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nQ9nmAI2ucWn9WWGLVZqX4J95aM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nQ9nmAI2ucWn9WWGLVZqX4J95aM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nQ9nmAI2ucWn9WWGLVZqX4J95aM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/Xrijhoet6HI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/3935412141075339135/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/03/boat-name-is-beluga.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/3935412141075339135?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/3935412141075339135?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/Xrijhoet6HI/boat-name-is-beluga.html" title="The Boat Name is Beluga" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5013/5501888544_8eb7afbb04_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/03/boat-name-is-beluga.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8NRn84eCp7ImA9Wx9UFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-2175029260233671030</id><published>2011-02-11T17:17:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T22:11:37.130-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-11T22:11:37.130-06:00</app:edited><title>GameShow Optimism</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2242249770/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2064/2242249770_a198f75552_m.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2242249770/"&gt;Baby Elephant&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The elephant picture is because this is a cute elephant. Also, because I am about to talk about a very large elephant in the room and once this blog is done with, I dont want to talk about it again. Let it be what it is and lets move on. Kapish? Good&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Have you ever noticed that on game shows, no matter how much money someone just lost in their greedy attempt for more, they clap, say its alright, smile and keep playing. Never once does someone get mad and throw their 'extra spin' token at Pat. It makes me think. What would life be like if we had this optomism in everything? More importantly, how would my day have gone differently with this optomism?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pat: Oh Kiki, Im sorry. The man you have been seeing has not contacted you for a week.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Thats alright *nod and clap* Thats alright.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pat: Rats. Looks like when you contact him today, he is en route to Pennsylvania... as in moving to PA.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: *pause* Thats alright! Not the end of the world, its ok!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pat: Oh darn, Kiki. Looks like he wasnt planning on telling you!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Thats ok *nod and clap* Thats ok.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pat: And thats not all! Not only did he attempt to escape, he has news paper proof AND he will tell you that if you are going to sit there and complain about it, he does want to talk to you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Comeon! No whamies! Big money! No whamies! Stop!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pat: Well, it looks like you wont be going home empty handed. The friend that was against the relationship the whole time has invited you to dinner. So lets add a 'slice of humble pie' to your winnings. Heck, lets add the whole pie.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: *nods and smiles* Thats somethin! Thats alright!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You know, then I tell the story this way, it's entertaining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-2175029260233671030?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xsKYVhMVDG29zWR6f9U4SNSp_pg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xsKYVhMVDG29zWR6f9U4SNSp_pg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xsKYVhMVDG29zWR6f9U4SNSp_pg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xsKYVhMVDG29zWR6f9U4SNSp_pg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/ipVhpeHXy-o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/2175029260233671030/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/02/gameshow-optimism.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/2175029260233671030?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/2175029260233671030?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/ipVhpeHXy-o/gameshow-optimism.html" title="GameShow Optimism" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2064/2242249770_a198f75552_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/02/gameshow-optimism.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEANRXo4eSp7ImA9Wx9VFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-8047115544719616694</id><published>2011-02-01T10:13:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T10:13:14.431-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-01T10:13:14.431-06:00</app:edited><title>The Incident</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/4723409050/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1388/4723409050_0ea3395980_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/4723409050/"&gt;Jumping&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Some of the best stories of my life are the ones that involve injuries. There was the time I did the cannon ball in my uncles pool and ended up tearing the ligaments in my ankle. Or the time I got a concussion at work in the bank vault and could only keep repeating a few phrases like 'ouch' and 'i hurted my head'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My injury stories are, for some reason, always over the top and end in halarity for someone. I have learned in my wise 27 years, to recognize a good story in the making and I did just that on Sunday night. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there I was, almost to bed. The clock showed 9:02 which meant I was two minutes behind schedule. I was hurrying, my mind filled with something. I dont remember exactly what I was thinkin about, but something had my full attention. I was putting soap in the washing machine and typically, the next step is to fill it and then shut the lid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, this night was not destined for things to go in order and thus, I pushed the button to release the lid from where it hung and then gripped the washing machine as I bent to pick up some dirty clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep in mind, that lid, mixed with gravity, is making a beeline straight to my fingers that are curled around the opening of the washing maching lid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The edge of the lid hit right across the second knuckle of each finger with a loud crash and after the split second it took me to remember to breath, all sorts of things were going wrong in my brain. Speaking in normal tones was no longer an option and every other word was quite notably a bad word. (sorry mom)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually, in these cases, my first instinct is to walk it off. I was fixing to do just that when I looked down and saw this foreboding green bump rising on the knuckle of my ring finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats when the giggly panic started. I called everybody until PeePee the Almost Candian Doc calmed me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, everything seems to be just fine. No breaks that they can see so far and I woke up to a lovely bluish-green line across all four of the fingers on my right hand. That lid sure left its mark! I would have told you all about this sooner, unfortunately, it hurt to type yesterday so I left you all hanging. Love ya though!&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-8047115544719616694?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_Pjh5Gn5pDTyYBEjZvy9LpXxnKA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_Pjh5Gn5pDTyYBEjZvy9LpXxnKA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/KIVCubthI8k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/8047115544719616694/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/02/incident.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/8047115544719616694?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/8047115544719616694?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/KIVCubthI8k/incident.html" title="The Incident" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1388/4723409050_0ea3395980_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/02/incident.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQGRXY8eip7ImA9Wx9WGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-1257426890552611155</id><published>2011-01-24T15:25:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T15:25:24.872-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-24T15:25:24.872-06:00</app:edited><title>Confessions of a Free Bird #4</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/411442824/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/152/411442824_5d0a4e785d_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/411442824/"&gt;Pelican in flight&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I have this assumption that there is everyone says little things only they know about. Naturally, I have no idea what everyone eles' little words are. However I do know mine and I thought perhaps I would share them with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Naturally. One of the best comedian routines of all time has been a favorite of mine since I was little. Abbot and Costello did a gig called "Who's on First" and 'naturally' was something they said a lot. Ever since I first watched that wonderful skit, Ive found many perfect moments to say 'naturally.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) "Ill send you right over". I work in phone based customer service department and many days it requires that I transfer phone calls to other areas. As if Red Rover eternally needs me to send that game some shout outs, I always say things like "Ill send you right over" or "Ill send them right over." Right is always in that phrase. Its just not the same without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what are your secret words?&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-1257426890552611155?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TCosS4bCcQNIvO1IKbfSM04zidM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TCosS4bCcQNIvO1IKbfSM04zidM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/ezdDxwgPXos" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/1257426890552611155/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/confessions-of-free-bird-4.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/1257426890552611155?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/1257426890552611155?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/ezdDxwgPXos/confessions-of-free-bird-4.html" title="Confessions of a Free Bird #4" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/152/411442824_5d0a4e785d_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/confessions-of-free-bird-4.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcNQ3Y_fCp7ImA9Wx9WGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-4768156513060949353</id><published>2011-01-23T16:51:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T16:51:32.844-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-23T16:51:32.844-06:00</app:edited><title>Harvey's Freedom</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/3825568314/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2633/3825568314_70240c2ea8_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/3825568314/"&gt;Bat Ray&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Two years ago, one of my goals was to watch all the top 100 movies as if it would secretly make me more cultured or some such. I added them all to my Netflix until I found myself with an obnoxious amount of movies to watch. It was a daunting task, one I found eventually wore me out and I stopped watching them. Some of the old old ones are just boring. Do not judge me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So since my raise, i got my Netflix back and that entire que of things is all still there. So Ive been working through the movies. I feel like its a job almost. Like I have to watch each of these and take the culture from it because if I do not, some future generation will loose out on something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this morning before church I decided to watch Harvey. Yesterday I watched the Pride of the Yankees. Both movies have shifted something fundamental in me. I found that in both movies, the main character was simply joyful. Despite his struggles or his circumstances, he was happy and gracious and kind, thoughtful. I found myself wanting to be like both of them and suddenly, in the fuzzy black and white images of this man and his pretend rabbit, I saw an honest reflection of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is hard, money is tight, too much to too, too little vacation. There were so many complaints I use to fill my time. Perhaps I had missed it all along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The main character said something that struck me. "My mother always said you can be smart or you can be pleasant. I was smart for a long time. I much prefer pleasant." Its such a new motto for me, I am tempted to tattoo it on my forehead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ive found sometimes we get so full of life, so stuck in the brush strokes and where they land that we forget how lucky we are to a painter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So since its January, might as well decide that this year is going to be about pleasant. Sure smart is good and all, but I think I prefer pleasant as well. Its freeing really, like I can fly. (get it? the stingray looks like hes flying in water?)&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-4768156513060949353?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mi2WVEq3AGAAXgwiHmStzcmxKAk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mi2WVEq3AGAAXgwiHmStzcmxKAk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/3RZ-fhkH8jI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/4768156513060949353/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/harvey-freedom.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/4768156513060949353?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/4768156513060949353?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/3RZ-fhkH8jI/harvey-freedom.html" title="Harvey&amp;#39;s Freedom" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2633/3825568314_70240c2ea8_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/harvey-freedom.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUFSXg9cCp7ImA9Wx9XF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-6423094869295053108</id><published>2011-01-11T17:23:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T17:23:38.668-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-11T17:23:38.668-06:00</app:edited><title>Confessions of a Free Bird FAIL</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2242245672/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2174/2242245672_1521b7266e_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2242245672/"&gt;Resting Lion&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Yes, this picture is not a bird. I forgot I got bird pictures for this segment. My intent is to talk about orange juice and oddly enough, my brother does not take pictures of oranges very often. If he does, he does not post them on this Flickr. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I had this roommate once. We shall call her The Italian. She was a very fun person to live with and together, we did a lot of group activities with the club we were very active in. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;There was a time when the person in charge of our little bonding session asked this question: If you were a beverage, what would you be and what is the one characteristic you associate with that beverage? &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Italians response (literally, I remember this): Uhm... I want to say orange juice because its my favorite, but the only characteristic I can think of about it is 'phlegm inducing' and I do not think I'm phlegm inducing. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I do not remember the rest of the her answer. It did not even really matter. But she had a point. Orange juice is phlegm inducing. Therefore, I drink mine watered down. I find the flavor still full and yet, not nearly so phlegmy. Theres my confession... my orange juice preference.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-6423094869295053108?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QANkX4uxRtXDYf83obzgDaFFiNc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QANkX4uxRtXDYf83obzgDaFFiNc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/l8TIJCz_S2c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/6423094869295053108/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/confessions-of-free-bird-fail.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/6423094869295053108?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/6423094869295053108?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/l8TIJCz_S2c/confessions-of-free-bird-fail.html" title="Confessions of a Free Bird FAIL" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2174/2242245672_1521b7266e_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/confessions-of-free-bird-fail.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEADQHg7fSp7ImA9Wx9XFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-4582157590887068698</id><published>2011-01-09T16:39:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T16:39:31.605-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-09T16:39:31.605-06:00</app:edited><title>Lessons from the Hounds</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/357910223/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/144/357910223_fa3d4c4cf9_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/357910223/"&gt;I'm on a break.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Today, when waiting for the snow to come, I decided to sit on the couch and read. Not the Basset Hounds know they are invited to sit on the couch if I let them and they are all about climbing up on my lap until I yell at them. Eventually they settle down next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there they were, Bertha right next to me, as she always fights to be, and Clarence between her and the edge of the couch. I was reading but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Clarence stand as if he wanted to face the other way. Naturally, the lack of space made his desire to turn around a rather daunting task.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bertha was sleeping and seemed not to even notice when he began to turn. Thats when something magical happened. Clarence actually sat on Bertha half way thru his turn. He used the moment of sitting on her head to regain his balance and continue his turn. I watched in amazement as she just opened one eye and seemed rather un-phased the the overly lengthy dog had his duck-us perched on her head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It got me thinking. Are we the type of people willing to let our friend sit on our heads if they need to? Do we meet such a predicament with patience and understanding or do we snap and whine about it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of friend are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to think I'm a Bertha, that I let someone sit on me when they need to turn, but sometimes I'm not. Sometimes, when it matters most, I refuse to be a Bertha. I'm not sure what the difference is, but perhaps I should try a little bit harder to not have too much pride to be sat on.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-4582157590887068698?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dj6KaHqz-hDJacgI3F2gORvpIAE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dj6KaHqz-hDJacgI3F2gORvpIAE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dj6KaHqz-hDJacgI3F2gORvpIAE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dj6KaHqz-hDJacgI3F2gORvpIAE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/QOFDtk-foww" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/4582157590887068698/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/lessons-from-hounds.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/4582157590887068698?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/4582157590887068698?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/QOFDtk-foww/lessons-from-hounds.html" title="Lessons from the Hounds" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/144/357910223_fa3d4c4cf9_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/lessons-from-hounds.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0AMR3YzeSp7ImA9Wx9XFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-1653780829990675783</id><published>2011-01-07T21:03:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T21:03:06.881-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-07T21:03:06.881-06:00</app:edited><title>Confessions of a Free Bird 2</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/352348200/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/128/352348200_ea1bd34bee_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/352348200/"&gt;Willet&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I watched this movie once where a princess took a bath in this water that was milky white. Being young when I saw it, I decided that it was a mark of a princess to take baths where the water was so milky, you could not see your flesh. In the years since, I have discovered that Irish Spring soap does really well for making the water cloudy, but not milky. So I spent many a bath trying to use enough soap to create the desired effect, sorry mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well tonight during my bath, I realized I am apparently pale enough to almost hide in the cloudy bath water and while completely immersing myself in the illusion that I am a princess, my dogs came in and stood a safe distance away from the tub to look at me with those droopy eyes. (They've learned I have a thing for spontaneously bathing them so they try to stay away from the tub)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My response to their questioning gazes: Be gone you servants. I have no need of your services this eve and I dare say you hamper my relaxation with your mere presence. Now shoo before I demand you beheaded for your disobedience!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think they understood I was a princess at the time.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-1653780829990675783?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ReUul2wAcHBgSmt8Z34HcdFMyMI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ReUul2wAcHBgSmt8Z34HcdFMyMI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/HbbNFJXIyrI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/1653780829990675783/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/confessions-of-free-bird-2.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/1653780829990675783?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/1653780829990675783?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/HbbNFJXIyrI/confessions-of-free-bird-2.html" title="Confessions of a Free Bird 2" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/128/352348200_ea1bd34bee_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/confessions-of-free-bird-2.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08HQX09fyp7ImA9Wx9XEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-1907911399802916712</id><published>2011-01-04T23:37:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T23:37:10.367-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-04T23:37:10.367-06:00</app:edited><title>Confessions of a Free Bird 1</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/463474296/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/232/463474296_90727c4e43_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/463474296/"&gt;Black Phoebe 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;When I am alone in an elevator, I march in and then spin, facing the front again and clasp my hands behind my back right as the door slides closed as if I were leaving the bridge on Star Trek.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-1907911399802916712?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MTJw4wQYDyZbYF6GVtGCJP-uRZw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MTJw4wQYDyZbYF6GVtGCJP-uRZw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/O669DigZ3ZY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/1907911399802916712/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/confessions-of-free-bird-1.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/1907911399802916712?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/1907911399802916712?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/O669DigZ3ZY/confessions-of-free-bird-1.html" title="Confessions of a Free Bird 1" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/232/463474296_90727c4e43_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/confessions-of-free-bird-1.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUHQn0-fCp7ImA9Wx9XEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-7110184059925691167</id><published>2011-01-04T10:23:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T10:23:53.354-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-04T10:23:53.354-06:00</app:edited><title>2010 Sunset</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/437036000/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/157/437036000_0fca3ac24a_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/437036000/"&gt;Tijuana Sunset&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sunsets mark the end; the flourishing finish; the passing of another day. 2010 had a glorious sunset, so I hear. I was napping during the ringing in of the new year. Perhaps I should have been awake, but when you are sleeping, you are just sleeping and there is no stopping the sleepies, as we all know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reality of it did not hit home until I realize this morning that, two days in a row now, I have worn matching socks. Yes, you read that right... matching. socks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I suppose there could be worse things. But I did want to let you know my New Year’s resolutions this year are different. In fact I only have one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My New Year’s resolution is to be. I resolve that for this year, I will exist and do so with gusto. I resolve to exist at the full potential of me and make it a habit to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are your resolutions?&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-7110184059925691167?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/c6AUfQO4zQDvyX-qFZ0ZSanO_QU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/c6AUfQO4zQDvyX-qFZ0ZSanO_QU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/zjp8jvBeozI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/7110184059925691167/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/2010-sunset.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/7110184059925691167?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/7110184059925691167?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/zjp8jvBeozI/2010-sunset.html" title="2010 Sunset" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/157/437036000_0fca3ac24a_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/2010-sunset.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYBR3c-eCp7ImA9Wx9XEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-242898746582685168</id><published>2011-01-03T17:09:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T17:09:16.950-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-03T17:09:16.950-06:00</app:edited><title>Thar she blows!</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/360181662/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/161/360181662_c46c666d6f_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/360181662/"&gt;Thar she blows!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;What if I am alone until I shrivel up and die and painfully alone death? What if I find some awesome hot guy and we die two seconds later. What if I already walked past him and my head was in the clouds? More than that, what if I drowned in this sea of what ifs? What if I spend so much time wondering that I never wake up tomorrow morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of sleeping, I had the craziest dream the other night. Literally some guy had hurt my friend and you can ask bro, that gets me in the fighting spirit so I was chasing after him promising lots of pain. And his only escape was to start climbing this ladder thingie, more like a fire escape or scaffolding really, and so I started climbing after him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then when we were pretty high and he was running out of room, he turned towards me and pointed a gun straight at my face. Now I am really ashamed to say this, but immediately I started begging for my life. I wussed out really. I would put a worse word there, by my mom reads this. It is so embarrassing. I begged for my life. I mean if the dude has a gun straight at your face in a dream, Chuck Norris it up, do not BEG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ug, such a horrible dream. Anyways, in the end he shot me, my superman like right pointer finger blocked the bullet. I lost a finger in that dream, but as I was falling backwards, probably to my death, I was just staring at the chunk taken out of my finger thinking, 'he shot my pointer finger off!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I woke up. The dogs did not appreciate the drama. Neither did I really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I suppose there are more important things then what-ifs. I mean, when it all comes down to it, I still have my right pointer finger, right?&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-242898746582685168?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5BOtrtZb0peB58c-dUNHpl13UjY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5BOtrtZb0peB58c-dUNHpl13UjY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/OrTNYMPHL1U" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/242898746582685168/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/thar-she-blows.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/242898746582685168?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/242898746582685168?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/OrTNYMPHL1U/thar-she-blows.html" title="Thar she blows!" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/161/360181662_c46c666d6f_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2011/01/thar-she-blows.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMHRXg8eSp7ImA9Wx9QFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-4473562803423769158</id><published>2010-12-29T18:53:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T18:53:54.671-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-29T18:53:54.671-06:00</app:edited><title>The Journey Begins</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2791065243/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3049/2791065243_e213425503_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2791065243/"&gt;Garden 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I started reading this book my family got me for Christmas. There are three different parts of the book, but in reading the first tidbits, I'm looking forward to it. The whole thing is about the journey to find our creativity.  Like most self help books, the introduction is full of promises of how much this book will change my life and as much as I like to believe it, I understand it largely rests in my hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we have all seen, I'm really good at fizzling out after I start something. However, I like to think that 2011 will be a year of discovery and change for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chose this picture for a specific reason. It reminds me of my Aunt and Uncle. They remain two people that have dramatically changed and inspired my life. When I get frustrated about my financial situation, I think of them. When they started out, they lived in a trailer and now, they live in a place as beautiful as this garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am proud to be their niece. Im proud to know them at all. And tho they may never know it, I often wish I would get in the habit of calling them more often. Like I feel with my writing, I hunger to know them better, be a part of their every day lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture reminds me of patience and of hard work. It reminds me to push thru and in time, I will get there just like they did. So thank you for being a part of my life. I may not show my affection, respect or appreciation as well as I should, but my life would not be the same without you.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-4473562803423769158?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l5VMxFMu6thQvn0o9aPmO1fRWHg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l5VMxFMu6thQvn0o9aPmO1fRWHg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/_oG-9DjL5VY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/4473562803423769158/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/journey-begins.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/4473562803423769158?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/4473562803423769158?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/_oG-9DjL5VY/journey-begins.html" title="The Journey Begins" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3049/2791065243_e213425503_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/journey-begins.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4BRHo9fCp7ImA9Wx9RFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-2934428427921998613</id><published>2010-12-17T18:59:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T18:59:15.464-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-17T18:59:15.464-06:00</app:edited><title>I Finished It!</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2920318641/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3146/2920318641_27e45c3331_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2920318641/"&gt;F-22 with Vapor 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Its official my lovely friends. On my birthday, I set out three goals for myself. 1) to run a marathon 2) to finish a book and 3) to get a promotion at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have one down two in the works!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today the email announcement was sent out to my entire division that I have officially gotten my promotion. My raise will take effect in the end of December, but for now, I am enjoying the fact that I finished it. I did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes it so sweet is that it was not easy. I had to work hard for my promotion. I had to earn it and account for every action and instead of giving up or getting discouraged, I put in the work to get it done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im proud of myself. I feel on top of the world! Every day we get a chance to prove to the world and ourselves that we can be better then what we think we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dramatic for just a promotion you may say. To you, I would say you must not know me. Dramatic is what I do best!&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-2934428427921998613?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gtrOk7su1mcqxuferk2oeSmcCnE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gtrOk7su1mcqxuferk2oeSmcCnE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/OG7WxgQjdos" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/2934428427921998613/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-finished-it.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/2934428427921998613?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/2934428427921998613?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/OG7WxgQjdos/i-finished-it.html" title="I Finished It!" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3146/2920318641_27e45c3331_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-finished-it.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8DRX08eSp7ImA9Wx9RE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-1034961168079236952</id><published>2010-12-14T18:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T19:01:14.371-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-14T19:01:14.371-06:00</app:edited><title>Finish it</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/3286991380/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3588/3286991380_b9a3beb859_m.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/3286991380/"&gt;Bacon Explosion 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My high school years were designed rather cognitively by my parents. They were adamant my brother and I did at least two extra curricular activities a year. Their reasoning was simple. They remembered the fun things more then the classwork and I would agree. Most of the things about high school that make me smile are the things I did outside of class. The friends I keep are not the ones I took classes with but those I spent outside time with.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Most of my pride is tucked into two activities. Marching band and water polo. Both of them marked by powerful teachers. Each of those teachers taught me one thing... to finish it. No matter the task, they called for my best until the very end.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No matter how long the race is, finish it. No matter how high the mountain, finish climbing it. No matter how hard the task, finish it at your very best. Its a life lesson we do not always remember. its a personal ethic that we do not always hold ourselves to. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But at the end of the day, finish it. You stand taller when you do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
On an alternate note, my bother, as always, is the mastermind behind the pictures I use to illustrate my points. And obviously, I'm needing new pics Boogie Boo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-1034961168079236952?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8pljhPtx_ZEsXBB8Ea4A7YnLn9o/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8pljhPtx_ZEsXBB8Ea4A7YnLn9o/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8pljhPtx_ZEsXBB8Ea4A7YnLn9o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8pljhPtx_ZEsXBB8Ea4A7YnLn9o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/yOBZltJtKf8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/1034961168079236952/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/finish-it.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/1034961168079236952?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/1034961168079236952?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/yOBZltJtKf8/finish-it.html" title="Finish it" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3588/3286991380_b9a3beb859_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/finish-it.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0IFRnYzeSp7ImA9Wx9REU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-6778521330541652431</id><published>2010-12-11T15:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T15:05:17.881-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-11T15:05:17.881-06:00</app:edited><title>My Dog Duke</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/4529540715/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4059/4529540715_83f0fbed86_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/4529540715/"&gt;Out For a Swim&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;He fell in love with himself the other day. Quite literally. I decided to read a little before bed, this vampire novel my coworker started me on. Love stories are usually so blah to me, but hey, it passes the time. So he sat on the bed and when I turned the light on in my room, it caused a reflection in my window. Typically I keep my blinds up so that in the morning, I can see the vine covered fence that reminds me each day of the greatest morning I ever woke up to. Ill tell you about that another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this reflection in the window immediately caught my dog's attention. His ears perked, he said up straight as a basset hound can and studied himself. Well I could not stop giggling and what made it worse was when he started to lean forward, trying to get closer to this mysterious dog in the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the better part of an hour he sat there, longing to reach out and sniff such beauty and only when I turned out the light did he finally stop watching. He fell asleep that night facing the window, perhaps waiting for himself to come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that how it always goes? We do not want the companionship of whats right next to us because Jaz was there, trying to bug him for attention and he had no time for her. Instead we look to whats just beyond our reach, seeking to catch the unicorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I am not sure what to do. I could enable him for my own entertainment and get a full length mirror. But I feel like it would be silent torture to always have what he longs for right there just past the glass. I suppose the good news is that my dog has a healthy self love. It's more then some of us have. Self love, vanity, its all the same really.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-6778521330541652431?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bExAqNah6OmJboaHjHCaBTdaru0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bExAqNah6OmJboaHjHCaBTdaru0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bExAqNah6OmJboaHjHCaBTdaru0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bExAqNah6OmJboaHjHCaBTdaru0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/DLv8q6RjYsc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/6778521330541652431/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-dog-duke.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/6778521330541652431?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/6778521330541652431?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/DLv8q6RjYsc/my-dog-duke.html" title="My Dog Duke" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4059/4529540715_83f0fbed86_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/my-dog-duke.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQGSHw6eyp7ImA9Wx9SFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-6555080347074723569</id><published>2010-12-03T17:18:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T17:18:49.213-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-03T17:18:49.213-06:00</app:edited><title>Happy Turkey Day!</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2242244216/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2007/2242244216_69edf21ed6_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2242244216/"&gt;Lorikeet&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Alright, use your imagination a bit. If you keep up with this blog, or have any observatory powers at all, you will see that I made a blog post from my phone! Its seriously easier to type with all my fingers and not my thumbs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to let you all know about the Great Brownie Thief of Thanksgiving 2010.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There I was, relaxing on my little plane flight, enjoying my book and my first class dinner. Interesting, isnt it that those dinners are nothing more then a tv dinner and yet they are considered first class. Or perhaps I am just bitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plane lady (names have been changed due to my inability to spell) came walking up and offered me my choice of either fruit and cheese or a brownie sunday. Naturally I informed her I could not eat dairy. In all my brilliance, I paused for a half breath to let the horror of the situation sink in before I was about to continue on and let her know that I could eat the brownie without the ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However! Before I could even begin to turn our attention to the brownie, she gave me a sympathetic, insincere smile and said 'oh thats just aweful' before she flounced away with MY BROWNIE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was livid! My first reaction was to throw my shoe at her, then I thought about throwing the water bottle. Finally I was prepared to leap over the man next to me, rush down the isle and tackle her, subsequently stealing my gosh darn brownie back, but lets face it, I was on a plane and they shoot people that throw shoes on planes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well maybe they dont shoot them and as much as I was willing to go down for a brownie, mom had a whole chocolate cake waiting for me at home so I pouted until I got there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope your Thanksgiving was less eventful then mine. I hope you ate lots and laughed even more. And I hope you leave me a comment letting me know what your favorite part of Thanksgiving was.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-6555080347074723569?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4MwgQlGkTy4mtjp3NdnRZ_VTYPE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4MwgQlGkTy4mtjp3NdnRZ_VTYPE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4MwgQlGkTy4mtjp3NdnRZ_VTYPE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4MwgQlGkTy4mtjp3NdnRZ_VTYPE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/8vxOgZJguM4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/6555080347074723569/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-turkey-day.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/6555080347074723569?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/6555080347074723569?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/8vxOgZJguM4/happy-turkey-day.html" title="Happy Turkey Day!" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2007/2242244216_69edf21ed6_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-turkey-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUICSHw5cCp7ImA9Wx9SFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-5999177772705973898</id><published>2010-12-03T17:06:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T17:06:09.228-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-03T17:06:09.228-06:00</app:edited><title>i has an android!</title><content type="html">Its seriously time consuming to type a whole blog post from my phone. Not to mention I will cringe when I look at the spelling and grammer later. &lt;br/&gt; Yep... my fingers are tired by now... and everything I want to say just feels like too many buttons to push... someone remind me again why I wanted this app please?&lt;div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'&gt;Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-5999177772705973898?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EELe70sQkTsUjobDVm39a5TV2d8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EELe70sQkTsUjobDVm39a5TV2d8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EELe70sQkTsUjobDVm39a5TV2d8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EELe70sQkTsUjobDVm39a5TV2d8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/K8Epwg8kdhM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/5999177772705973898/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-has-android.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/5999177772705973898?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/5999177772705973898?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/K8Epwg8kdhM/i-has-android.html" title="i has an android!" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-has-android.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEIBR3wzfCp7ImA9Wx9TEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-2501705917388275015</id><published>2010-11-18T11:49:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T11:49:16.284-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-18T11:49:16.284-06:00</app:edited><title>I miss you Gma</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2913669783/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3045/2913669783_cb816a0652_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2913669783/"&gt;Heritage Flight 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I drink my coffee cold. It's a habit since I was a child. I know this sounds odd, but I remember lazy mornings when I was visiting my grandparents, my grandma would always drink her coffee until the dregs of it were cold. She would wrinkle her nose and set that little coffee mug down. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Usually she would sit at the little table in her motor home drinking her coffee and I would sit in the drivers seat. These mornings were something I will remember forever with her. She seemed so relaxed as I would imagine getting ready to drive her wherever she wanted to go. Naturally though, with that motor home facing my grandfather's garden, she would ask me how we were going to get there without running it over. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My response was always the same. It was as sure as the changing of the seasons. In fact, my entire childhood was about flying. I used to have such dreams about being able to fly wherever I wanted to go. I would point out to her, as I took her for her flights, all the features of my hometown I could think of. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Later, when working on forest fires, I used to adore rides in a helicopter. It was much like those times with my grandmother and I quickly started to dream of becoming a pilot. This dream, like many of Mr. Darling's dreams that have to be put away for now. Someday, I will fly. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;But back to the coffee. When fire fighting, I worked sixteen hour shifts and I remember for the first time in my life, really understanding what sleep deprivation really was. I was tired constantly and with no days off, I had to cope somehow. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I learned in my camp, the difference between good coffee and bad coffee. I learned that once you pour enough cream in it to kill the bitterness, coffee becomes one of the best things in the world. And each time, I drink it really slow, finding it more enjoyable as it gets colder.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Every time I finished flying grandma around, she would scoff at the nasty cold coffee and let me drink the rest. And I would sip at it like an adult. She was always so surprised that I would drink it like that, but even up to this day, I drink it cold and remember what it was like to fly.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-2501705917388275015?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SskjqCln9owd5q5Tzy9upnWsy0s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SskjqCln9owd5q5Tzy9upnWsy0s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/9IGoD9zxORI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/2501705917388275015/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-miss-you-gma.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/2501705917388275015?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/2501705917388275015?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/9IGoD9zxORI/i-miss-you-gma.html" title="I miss you Gma" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3045/2913669783_cb816a0652_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-miss-you-gma.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQERX07eSp7ImA9Wx5bFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-381691143999352340.post-7147195721690870729</id><published>2010-11-01T21:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T21:18:24.301-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-01T21:18:24.301-05:00</app:edited><title>Siblings</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2241452791/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2078/2241452791_1b93ed5274_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/blueshark/2241452791/"&gt;Gorillas&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/blueshark/"&gt;blue.shark&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Every November is National Novel Writing Month and every November, someone sends me something about it thinking I may be interested. Obviously, every November I think about how awesome it would be and how I simply could not do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this November, my brother sent me the link.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother used to be the kid that would say things like, "Hey, go eat that berry and see if it makes you puke." Naturally, I would be the kid that responded with, "Ok!" So maybe its this month. Maybe this time, something gets done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My uncle used to say to never marry a dreamer.  He said dreamers will always be the ones to think up brilliant things and never do anything to accomplish them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I find myself torn between being a dreamer and being a doer. Of course, I hesitate to tell you if I actually try since that would just make me feel like I was setting myself up for failure on a very public level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But maybe... just maybe.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/381691143999352340-7147195721690870729?l=canthesirensing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GCZxueSD_74cwk0w8oNK0sFJ6Vc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GCZxueSD_74cwk0w8oNK0sFJ6Vc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~4/_W0njfd6E-0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/feeds/7147195721690870729/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/11/siblings.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/7147195721690870729?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/381691143999352340/posts/default/7147195721690870729?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CanTheSirenSing/~3/_W0njfd6E-0/siblings.html" title="Siblings" /><author><name>Kiki!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04981134943871986052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6FN7ixL6ces/S1xgmNR8YJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NUXw_C_KHJM/S220/Closeup+of+me.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2078/2241452791_1b93ed5274_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://canthesirensing.blogspot.com/2010/11/siblings.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

