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<?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/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778</id><updated>2012-04-16T03:01:20.846+01:00</updated><title type="text">Hannah's Blog</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/" /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</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/HannahsBlog" /><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="hannahsblog" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114922557480802760</id><published>2006-06-02T06:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T06:19:34.816+01:00</updated><title type="text">Plus...</title><content type="html">All the people who made my life bad, or shit on me in some way - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha! I'm happy and in love. Screw you guys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114922557480802760?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114922557480802760/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114922557480802760" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114922557480802760" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114922557480802760" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/06/plus.html" title="Plus..." /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114922400048912903</id><published>2006-06-02T05:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T05:54:30.406+01:00</updated><title type="text">Going home</title><content type="html">Going home for summer tomorrow morning.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have internet at my house, so there probably won't be any new blog posts.  I won't be doing anything worth blogging about anyway, except my trip to New York.&lt;br /&gt;I figure, just look out for new blog posts by me in September.  Maybe sooner if I find somewhere to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep safe everyone xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114922400048912903?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114922400048912903/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114922400048912903" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114922400048912903" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114922400048912903" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/06/going-home.html" title="Going home" /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114899727316120668</id><published>2006-05-30T14:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T14:54:33.173+01:00</updated><title type="text">Thinking...</title><content type="html">You ever get the feeling that the world would be a nicer place if you could just get rid of the people you didn't like?&lt;br /&gt;Not kill them, God no, but just put them somewhere, away from you, just so you know that they weren't around you anymore?  Just so you know that they won't talk or try to make contact?&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's just that I don't want to be reminded of what was, and be taken away from what is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I would have to say that I am the happiest I have been, possibly ever, but at least for a long time.  And a lot of that has to do with Ander.  He just makes me happy.  And it's not even the things he does, he brought me an Indian takeaway - my favourite - when I got back from home and that was the sweetest, nicest thing I think anyone has ever done for me.  I missed him so much while I was away, even though it was only 4 days.  I missed waking up next to him, I missed going to sleep next to him.  All I wanted to do was cuddle up to him and drift off to sleep.  For him to stroke my hair or my back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I missed the jokes that he makes, even the silly ones.  I met some friends while I was at home, and I half expected a voice to say 'Hold my drink, I'm Rick James, bitch'.  I missed that look he gets on his face when I do something weird.  I missed the little comments he makes when we watch tv, especially the ones about how stupid people are.  &lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna struggle the weeks we're apart.  I know, I know, 'long distance relationships' blah blah, but I figure, it's worth it.  I love Ander more than anything, with his deep black hair, so that in the right light it gets little blue highlights, and his incredible brown eyes, and his big grin, so that you can't help but smiling back.  So, if I have to endure a couple months apart for that, bring it on.  Besides, it's not really long distance, if you think about it. Yeah, he lives in America, but he's at Uni, in Bangor, with me.  So technically, he's at Bangor with me.  So the only time we're 'long-distance' is the summer.  I can deal with that.  &lt;br /&gt;Besides, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have been introduced to new things, or have started liking old things.  Now, I like Rammstein, where I didn't before.  Hell, I'm even starting to get into 80s metal, as much as I hate to admit it.  Plus, the brilliantness that is Robot Chicken, Reeses Pieces, Soy Sauce on just about everything, Chappelle show, and so many other hundreds and millions of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like being in love. It's brilliant!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114899727316120668?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114899727316120668/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114899727316120668" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114899727316120668" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114899727316120668" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/05/thinking.html" title="Thinking..." /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114880888884239122</id><published>2006-05-28T10:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T10:34:48.856+01:00</updated><title type="text">Well.....</title><content type="html">I've just got back into Bangor after a few days at home.  My parents kept trying to make me stay extra days, which was really weird, but I had to put my foot down.  I'm only back in Bangor for a week, then I'm home for the summer, what's the point in staying home a couple of extra days, when I can just come back to Bangor, sort my shit out, and come home again.  I will never understand the mind of a parent...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, it was nice to go home for a few days, even if the travelling did almost kill me.  8 hours on the way home, 10 hours on the way back.  Sucked!  But apart from the travelling, it was ok.  Went to see the Da Vinci Code with Mum, which was really good.  I almost fell asleep before the film even started, but once it did, I thought it was awesome.  It could have down with being slimmed down a bit, some bits were dragged on just a little too far I felt, but apart from that, I really enjoyed it.  And on the way out of the cinema, I grabbed Ander a few movie posters I thought he would like.  Especially the one advertising the last ever Jet Li martial arts epic: Fearless.  Just from the poster it looks incredible.  But no release date on it, hmm.  Apart from the movie, the Indian meal, the chinese meal and the takeaway pizza, nothing much else happened at home.  I didn't have my laptop or my playstation, so all I had was to sit and watch TV all day.  Dullest thing ever.  But it meant I was able to catch up on some sleep, so that wasn't so bad.&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I did get my passport sorted out, it should be at my home in 2 weeks (YAY), so I should be fully prepared to go to NY now! YAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited, I might do the running up and down shouting and laughing thing.  Or keep it bottled inside, so that as soon as I step off the plane, I explode into a ball of gibbering energy, totally hyper, and just like a little kid.  Maybe not, that might be embarrassing.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just gotta survive the next four weeks until I go now.  How hard can it be?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114880888884239122?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114880888884239122/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114880888884239122" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114880888884239122" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114880888884239122" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/05/well.html" title="Well....." /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114779088742611020</id><published>2006-05-16T15:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T15:48:07.436+01:00</updated><title type="text">Feeling wicked</title><content type="html">Mwahahahahaha (evil laugh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno, I just feel like doing something bad.  Mostly because I feel so damn useless about this revision and tired.  I dunno, I never said t would make sense...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114779088742611020?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114779088742611020/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114779088742611020" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114779088742611020" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114779088742611020" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/05/feeling-wicked.html" title="Feeling wicked" /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114739079349124831</id><published>2006-05-12T00:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-12T00:39:53.503+01:00</updated><title type="text">Hmm....</title><content type="html">To the &lt;em&gt;anonymous&lt;/em&gt; poster who wrote this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Public displays of affection are disgusting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT WOULD JESUS SAY!! "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll tell you what Jesus would say.  He would say you are a prude, and that there are a million worse things that we could be doing, so what is the point in stressing over a little peck on the cheek?  He would also say that people like you are the kind of people who permenantly traumatise small children.  People like you are the reason some people are going through life thinking perfectly natural things are dirty.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm all for the fact that sticking your tongue down someone else's throat in public is pretty disgusting, so I don't do it, but I like to show signs of affection to my boyfriend, such as a little peck now and then, because I love him very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's what I say: if you are that confident in Jesus and your opinions, WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? AND WHY DO YOU FEEL THE NEED TO HIDE BEHIND ANONYMITY?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114739079349124831?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114739079349124831/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114739079349124831" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114739079349124831" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114739079349124831" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/05/hmm.html" title="Hmm...." /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114701299452497970</id><published>2006-05-07T15:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T15:43:14.536+01:00</updated><title type="text">Sleeeeep...</title><content type="html">I like sleeping.  I'm not sure I do enough sleeping normally, but when I get the chance, I could sleep all day.  I guess this is probably because I don't have a normal sleep pattern, or any kind of normal sleep, so when I get the chance, I could sleep for the whole day.  Which may seem like a waste, but it's not really.  First off, I need the sleep.  For all the sleep I miss, I have to catch up somehow, and I'd rather sleep through a day or two than collapse and die of exhaustion or lack of sleep.  Second, I'm more of a night person anyway.  I like being up at night, in the dark.  I just like being in moderate darkness, I've always got the curtains closed to keep out the light, ask Ander.  Although, I am not a vampire.  One, I go out in daylight all the time, Two, vampires aren't real.  I like being in moderate darkness, because it's dark but I can still see things, which is very important for navigating my way around the crap on my floor.  Pitch black is no fun because I can't see anything, usually end up flat on my face on the floor after tripping on a shoe, or slipping on a magazine, and then get scared when I can't see what's making that weird noise that sounds like a man in the fireplace.  Despite the potential for breaking your neck, the floor is always the best place to keep things because you always know exactly where they are.  If you tidy them away, you spend hours later going;&lt;br /&gt;"Where the fuck did I put that?"&lt;br /&gt;It just makes sense to keep things in plain view.  Or under the bed, the second best place to put stuff.  That way, everything is either on the floor or under the bed, easy to find.  If you put stuff under the bed, it's a little harder to get to, but you don't have crap on the floor.  You gotta weigh the pros with the cons...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news... lectures have finished now, so it's just revision and exams left to do.  Boring and stressful, but necessary.  Gotta go, should be doing revision...&lt;br /&gt;Keep safe xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114701299452497970?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114701299452497970/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114701299452497970" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114701299452497970" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114701299452497970" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/05/sleeeeep.html" title="Sleeeeep..." /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114645151000020918</id><published>2006-05-01T03:44:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T03:47:33.586+01:00</updated><title type="text">I don't like...</title><content type="html">- rewriting the same essay over and over, but different so i dont plagarise myself&lt;br /&gt;- the colour pink&lt;br /&gt;- the word 'AVATAR'&lt;br /&gt;- anonymous posters (who are you?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so there&lt;br /&gt;keep safe xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114645151000020918?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114645151000020918/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114645151000020918" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114645151000020918" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114645151000020918" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-dont-like.html" title="I don't like..." /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114587067824863375</id><published>2006-04-24T10:11:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T01:34:43.446+01:00</updated><title type="text">Start of lectures. Sort of...</title><content type="html">Lectures started today.  Well, I say 'lectures' so far I've only had a video session.  And it SUCKED.  If everything is going to be like that, I think I'm just gonna hide for the next two weeks, until exams.  The video was one of those crappy American ones from the 80s.  If you've seen them, you'll know what I'm on about.  If you haven't, think of the worst quality video you can get.  Put on some weird looking, badly dressed person, usually male.  Put them in a really bad polyester suit and give them some form of speech impediment.  If female, replace the polyester suit with some form of bad fitting flowery dress, usually with ridiculous shoulder pads.  Then sit there and watch them talk for an hour.  They just stand just to one side of the screen and talk.  There's no special effects of any kind and most definitely NO moving around.&lt;br /&gt;And the problem is not that they're American, that's just a coincidence.  There are some British ones floating around as well (but they are just so AWFUL that no-one bothers to show them for fear of audience combustion).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone could please explain the point of these things (apart from student torture) then I would try to be a little more understanding.  But for God's sake, don't tell me they help you learn because it's just not true.  Unless it's learning how to deal with psychological torment.  If they were that educational, people would make new ones that weren't so painful.  Hell, even I'll do it.  Someone get me a video camera, a lectern and a bad flowery dress with enormous shoulder pads and we'll see what happens.  It can only be pure gold...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114587067824863375?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114587067824863375/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114587067824863375" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114587067824863375" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114587067824863375" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/04/start-of-lectures-sort-of_114587067824863375.html" title="Start of lectures. Sort of..." /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114571312114068168</id><published>2006-04-22T14:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-04-22T14:38:43.236+01:00</updated><title type="text">Another new post? Oh my...</title><content type="html">You know what was good about being at home?&lt;br /&gt;I got to share a double bed with Ander.  Which was nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what's not so nice about being in Bangor?&lt;br /&gt;The single beds.  Its  nice because you can cuddle with your loved one whilst you're in bed, sleeping, but when one rolls over, all hell breaks loose.  For example, last night I rolled over and I swear I punched Ander by accident.  Then I rolled the other way and collided with freezing cold wall.  That was not fun.  At all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is &lt;/span&gt;nice about being back in Bangor?&lt;br /&gt;The fact that if you're up later than 11, it doesn't matter if you're listening to music or watching DVDs.  The walls in my house are paper thin and my parents used to complain all the time that they could hear the TV or the music.  It's not my fault we have student sleep patterns!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I'm here it's nice that I can kiss Ander without someone saying "Get a room!"  What are you? 11?&lt;br /&gt;I'd understand if we were stripping each other or having sex on the floor in front of everyone but we weren't.  So what is so wrong about showing a little affection for your partner whom you love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's it, until I remember something else, or am struck with divine inspiration.  Or until I'm drunk, that usually works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep safe xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114571312114068168?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114571312114068168/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114571312114068168" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114571312114068168" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114571312114068168" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/04/another-new-post-oh-my.html" title="Another new post? Oh my..." /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114565946206952979</id><published>2006-04-21T23:29:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T10:11:34.620+01:00</updated><title type="text">What's this? A new post?</title><content type="html">It's been over three weeks since i blogged because i've been at home for the easter holiday.  And I don't have the internet at my house.  Or an indoor toilet.  Or running water.  I live in a mud hut from the dark ages.  Yeah, I wish.  That would be cool.  Instead, I live in an ordinary house with no internet. Boooo!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I have had an incredible three weeks.  I feel like I haven't stopped.  At all.  But I figure I must have because I have finished God Of War (on easy mode - I know, boo me) and that requires me to have sat still for at least a few hours...&lt;br /&gt;In all honesty, I don't actually remember where most of the holiday went.  There was the party at Mark's, which was good fun, lots of drunkenness etc, awesome!, there was the various trips to the New Forest, which is your basic wandering around, looking at the ponies and pondering the universe, or in our case which is the best way to kill a Wraith thing on God Mode in God Of War, Salisbury Cathedral, which I love and and strongly recommend to anyone who happens to be in the vicinity, or anyone who visits, and various other activities which I don't recall at this time.  It'll probably come back to me at some point, a few months down the line.  Or you could ask Ander, he took millions of pictures and is bound to know what we did...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last week was by far the busiest.  We went to Bournemouth twice, once with Ben and Steph and once to get superglue and something else.  Then we went to Stonehenge.  That's a really cool thing to do.  Especially if you pay to go right in.  You can't go right up and touch the stones anymore (because people in the past kept stealing bits and the English Heritage people decided that this was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;naughty&lt;/span&gt; and because of this, no-one is allowed to get too near.  We should all feel suitably chastised for this.  I think...).  It rained the whole time, but did we let it get our spirits down? No! We went right on in there and even took the free audio tour.  The basic summary of the audio tour is: WE HAVE NO IDEA WHY THIS IS HERE OR HOW IT GOT HERE.  Despite this, you should still listen because it's still pretty fascinating.  Especially some of the myths as to how the stones got there.  Our all time favourite myth was that the Devil put them there.  Or aliens.  Personally, I think the Devil hired the aliens to put them there to confuse everybody... I mean it worked didn't it?...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it for now.  I feel like I haven't slept in a week, so I'm going to go sleep for a week.&lt;br /&gt;Keep safe xx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. It was good to see my friends at home again, even if it was only for a short time.  I love and miss you guys xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114565946206952979?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114565946206952979/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114565946206952979" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114565946206952979" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114565946206952979" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/04/whats-this-new-post.html" title="What's this? A new post?" /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114346262886762567</id><published>2006-03-27T13:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T13:31:22.576+01:00</updated><title type="text">Maybe I should try jogging...</title><content type="html">I'm still filled with this pent up anger.  I'm ready and more than willing to pick a fight.&lt;br /&gt;And I know exactly who I want to pick it with.&lt;br /&gt;I know that probably sounds awful, but they've had it coming from me for a long time.  And possibly from others as well.&lt;br /&gt;This person has treated me like a whore and I am in no mood to put up with their shit anymore.  They are the kind of person to let their prejudices get in the way and moan, complain and generally give shit coz my boyfriend is an American.  Well fuck that.  If they start it, I'm gonna finish it. And that's a promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really do anything this weekend.  Just lazed around all of the two days with Ander, watching DVD's, surfing the net and playing Grid Wars.  Grid Wars is an awesome game, big thanks to Matt for sending it to Ander.  Ultimate addictive gaming.  Although I suck at it. :(&lt;br /&gt;Wallace and Gromit in The Curse Of The Were-Rabbit is awesome.  I loved it.  I recommend everyone watches it.  NOW!!!!! lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it really.  My shoulder isn't really healing as fast or as well as I'd like.  I'm gonna have to go swimming more often.  Boo. At least it beats jogging.  Which I guess might help the pent up anger thing...&lt;br /&gt;Never mind.  Going now.&lt;br /&gt;Keep safe xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114346262886762567?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114346262886762567/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114346262886762567" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114346262886762567" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114346262886762567" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/03/maybe-i-should-try-jogging.html" title="Maybe I should try jogging..." /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24702778.post-114326756419150756</id><published>2006-03-25T05:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-25T06:22:10.000Z</updated><title type="text">My very first post!!</title><content type="html">Hey!  This is my first blog post!  Yay!  I think.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I should explain the name thing, scarred feet.  It came up when i was pretty drunk, it seemed logical at the time, and still does.  Ah ha, yay drunken logic.  I was trying to decide and Ander was trying to help, but I was being useless, so instead I told him about the collection of scars on my feet and ankles.  They've been collected over the years by my stupid use of footwear.  If I don't have to, I won't tie my shoelaces, which means that my shoes, especially my boots, rub on my feet.  I can't recall a single time in my life where I religiously tied my shoelaces, hence the elephant-like skin on my footsies.  Plus the long one on my ankle from shaving.  That sucked coz I bled everywhere and had to pull the piece of skin out the razor before I could finsh shaving. Yummy.  Anyway... away from such disgusting matters...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel particularly happy right now.  It serves me right, I knew I shouldn't have been drinking, but I did it anyway, but that's mostly not why I'm not especially happy.  Mostly.  I've been randomly angry all day.  Not the screamy shouty kind, but the quiet kind that builds up and threatens to spill over, resulting in chaos.  I can't really put a finger on the cause, just the fact that choosing my modules today upset me because most of them are biology based.  I'm studying psychology, can I have more psych based modules? Please?&lt;br /&gt;Also, I get the feeling that people just don't care any more.  Or at least less than they used to.  They're more concerned with discussing what they had for lunch than checking on the condition of their fellow man/woman/alien/alternative lifeform/insert other.  I do it too, I'm sure, but I try not to, and I do care, especially if there's something bothering someone, something I can do to help, or just to show I'm interested in what's going on.  Is it just me?&lt;br /&gt;One more thing, then I'll stop, I promise.  I'm not looking forward to summer.  I'm looking forward to Easter because Ander and I are going to my home for three weeks and I'm looking forward to seeing all my friends, I miss them a lot, but not summer.  Summer means 2-3 months without Ander, and that thought is so depressing I want to cry.  I love Ander, very much.  He does so much for me, without him this blog, and my myspace, wouldn't be, and he doesn't ask anything in return.  He always makes me feel special and loved, and I just don't want to be away from him for so long.  I'm going to be working all summer to get money to live next year, and hopefully for plane tickets to visit Ander.  No fun for me over summer.&lt;br /&gt;Thats it.  I know it's really long, but it's my blog, so I can.  Hopefully, the next one won't be so ranty.&lt;br /&gt;Gonna go now, it's 6.15am, apparently, and Ander looks lonely in the bed by himself.  Plus, I want cuddles.&lt;br /&gt;Keep safe xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24702778-114326756419150756?l=scarredfeet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/feeds/114326756419150756/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24702778&amp;postID=114326756419150756" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114326756419150756" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24702778/posts/default/114326756419150756" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://scarredfeet.blogspot.com/2006/03/my-very-first-post.html" title="My very first post!!" /><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07402213311578575031</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b42/Shipjin3/Buttons/Hannahavatar.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>

