<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' 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-2311853283217283750</id><updated>2024-09-15T02:07:50.276-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing Bad Will Happen</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nothingbadwillhappen.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nothingbadwillhappen.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Un-Fortunate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11961892168987051119</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2311853283217283750.post-5420945644536856930</id><published>2008-04-18T09:54:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T14:44:24.195-04:00</updated><title type='text'>That Person Who Never Did Show Up</title><content type='html'>Perhaps I was born in the wrong place or the wrong time. I was probably supposed to be born at a time when the closest neighbor was miles away so you didn&#39;t have to &lt;span style=&quot;font-style:italic;&quot;&gt;actually see them&lt;/span&gt; very often. The invention Most days all I want is to be alone...a great distance from everyone and every intrusion. I long for something that doesn&#39;t exist anymore in today&#39;s connected world. We&#39;re all intertwined in our self-made webs of communication with others while we leave no time to &lt;span style=&quot;font-style:italic;&quot;&gt;communicate with ourselves&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A desire to spend my life completely alone haunts me these days. I want to go away discover myself so badly that a wave of aching fills me with the intense pressure of my need.  I long for solitude...for the quiet that comes with being truly alone with oneself. There are days when it takes superhuman strength to keep me here in my real life. I&#39;m listening more and more to the voice inside my head that&#39;s telling me to &lt;span style=&quot;font-style:italic;&quot;&gt;Just Go And Be Alone&lt;/span&gt;. I get so into it that I think I could just get up and go wherever the world takes me. I want to just close the door on my old life and walk into the unknown and see what happens...see what I haven&#39;t had the opportunity to see before. See who I was supposed to be &lt;span style=&quot;font-style:italic;&quot;&gt;when I grew up&lt;/span&gt;, that person who never did show up.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default/5420945644536856930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default/5420945644536856930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nothingbadwillhappen.blogspot.com/2008/04/that-person-who-never-did-show-up.html' title='That Person Who Never Did Show Up'/><author><name>Un-Fortunate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11961892168987051119</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2311853283217283750.post-718229443287983183</id><published>2008-04-15T22:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T09:51:23.275-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The World Is Waiting For Us To Be Different</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width=&quot;420&quot; height=&quot;257&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;movie&quot; value=&quot;http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/x4j91y&amp;v3=1&amp;related=1&quot;&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;allowFullScreen&quot; value=&quot;true&quot;&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;allowScriptAccess&quot; value=&quot;always&quot;&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src=&quot;http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/x4j91y&amp;v3=1&amp;related=1&quot; type=&quot;application/x-shockwave-flash&quot; width=&quot;420&quot; height=&quot;257&quot; allowFullScreen=&quot;true&quot; allowScriptAccess=&quot;always&quot;&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4j91y_leona-lewis-footprints-in-the-sand_music&quot;&gt;Leona Lewis - Footprints In The Sand&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Uploaded by &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.dailymotion.com/FresHipHop&quot;&gt;FresHipHop&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will today be any different than yesterday? Will it? Would you know it if it was?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We tell lies so the world we live in and the life we live are not as ugly or as unkind as we know them to be....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We keep learning and rising higher, building bigger and moving faster, but so many are left behind to suffer our false ignorance...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need not be ashamed to accept a helping hand &lt;span style=&quot;font-style:italic;&quot;&gt;nothing bad will happen&lt;/span&gt;...only shamed by our inability to give it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I ask:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Will today be any different than yesterday?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Will it?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Would you know it if it was?&quot;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default/718229443287983183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default/718229443287983183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nothingbadwillhappen.blogspot.com/2008/04/world-is-waiting-for-us-to-be-different.html' title='The World Is Waiting For Us To Be Different'/><author><name>Un-Fortunate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11961892168987051119</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2311853283217283750.post-3057104395117211115</id><published>2008-04-15T15:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T18:00:00.031-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Needs A Job Anyways?</title><content type='html'>A job interview in the hands of the wrong &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;company&lt;/span&gt; is the most torturous thing a human being can endure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week I received a call from &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;Asinine Unlimited&lt;/span&gt; asking me to come in for an interview. I only applied for the job like six months ago! Six whole months ago! Only 180 days have passed since I  &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;actually applied for the job&lt;/span&gt;. But cicumstances being what they are, I accepted an invite to meet with the recruiter for &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;an exciting new position within the company&lt;/span&gt;. Yeah, whatever that means...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have known it would all end badly when I couldn&#39;t find the building. The recruiter gave me the wrong address - or more specifically, the &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;wrong building number&lt;/span&gt;. Because I&#39;m such a paranoid freak, I decided it was my fault that I couldn&#39;t find the building and then proceeded to spend an hour trying to locate them. I checked both the west and the east sides of the street they were supposed to be on but it didn&#39;t work. I broke down and called &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;Asinine Unlimited&lt;/span&gt; and explained what happened. The secretary gave me the right building number and I raced over there only to be &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;fifteen minutes late&lt;/span&gt;. I was politely asked to wait for an hour and fifteen minutes as I had &quot;missed my interview&quot;. So like an idiot, I agreed to wait and the whole time I&#39;m seething because &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;I know I didn&#39;t get the building number wrong&lt;/span&gt; so the recruiter must have made a mistake that has now botched things up. I should probably have checked their address online before I left, but hindsight is 20/20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After an eternity, the recruiter comes out and invites me into the boardroom and to my surprise and barely-concealed shock, there&#39;s two other interviewers in there waiting for us. There should be some law or some rule or just some &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;common courtesy&lt;/span&gt; that makes potential employers disclose the fact that you will be interviewed by &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;three people instead of one&lt;/span&gt;. I&#39;m informed that I will be interviewed by all three of them (no, really?) and then I will be required to do some tests. Tests? &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;What tests?&lt;/span&gt; So they ask their questions and to be honest, I don&#39;t remember any of them or what I answered and then they slide over the three tests to be done &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;while they are watching me&lt;/span&gt;. Are you freaking kidding me? I should have refused. I should have walked out. Instead I did their tests with shaking hands, while they did indeed watch me. I was then free to go home completely disillusioned and feeling tired and stupid. I don&#39;t expect them to be calling back and that&#39;s okay because who needs that kind of BS anyways?</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default/3057104395117211115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default/3057104395117211115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nothingbadwillhappen.blogspot.com/2008/04/who-needs-job-anyways.html' title='Who Needs A Job Anyways?'/><author><name>Un-Fortunate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11961892168987051119</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2311853283217283750.post-3759847015193187786</id><published>2008-04-15T12:04:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T18:01:37.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Proving The Cookie Wrong</title><content type='html'>&quot;It is possible to be happy all of the time.....&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That&#39;s what the fortune cookie said. Words of wisdom doled out with every lunch special advising  that anyone who eats take-out for lunch must need some extra guidance. It never says anything like &quot;Tonight&#39;s lotto numbers are....&quot; or &quot;The cook never washes his hands...&quot;. No, instead the cookie tells me that I can &quot;be happy&quot; and I get to be that way &quot;all of the time&quot;. No instructions, no other truths revealed, just a completely pointless sentence in the middle of my day. It would have been better had it said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;It is &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;impossible&lt;/span&gt; to be happy all of the time....&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That simple turn of phrase becomes a challenge to it&#39;s new and unassuming owner (me). It advises that I must now put forth a reasonable amount of effort trying to &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;prove the cookie wrong&lt;/span&gt; before giving up and giving in to that simple truth. But since the cookie says I can be happy all of the time, it&#39;s too much to decide until after lunch....it&#39;s best to eat slowly today.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type=&quot;&#39;text/javascript&#39;&quot;&gt;&lt;!--&lt;br /&gt;google_ad_client = &quot;pub-3274206343155355&quot;;&lt;br /&gt;/* nothingbadpost */&lt;br /&gt;google_ad_slot = &quot;9164243435&quot;;&lt;br /&gt;google_ad_width = 468;&lt;br /&gt;google_ad_height = 60;&lt;br /&gt;//--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script src=&quot;&#39;http://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js&#39;&quot; type=&quot;&#39;text/javascript&#39;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default/3759847015193187786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default/3759847015193187786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nothingbadwillhappen.blogspot.com/2008/04/proving-cookie-wrong.html' title='Proving The Cookie Wrong'/><author><name>Un-Fortunate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11961892168987051119</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2311853283217283750.post-8761132008659075352</id><published>2008-04-15T10:10:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T18:01:51.331-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing Bad Will Happen</title><content type='html'>I would like to have been something more..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say it to myself all the time. Every time I fall short, every time I fail. When I take the time to truly see myself, to really stare and not just a quick glance - I can&#39;t trust what I see right there in front of me. &quot;Is this really me?&quot; &quot;This is it, nothing more?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never wanted my life to turn out this way, but one wrong turn or perhaps a series of them has led me to my very own &quot;Middle-Of-Nowhere&quot;. Now that I&#39;m here, it doesn&#39;t really matter much which way I go, it all seems to end up in the same place. The thing about being in the Middle-Of-Nowhere is that it appears it&#39;s endless, there&#39;s no boundaries, no borders, no rules, no change, no way out......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make a change and &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;nothing happens&lt;/span&gt; turn over a new page and &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;nothing happens &lt;/span&gt;get it together and try to get out but &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;nothing happens&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all fairness though, here in the Middle-Of-Nowhere &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;Nothing Bad Will Happen&lt;/span&gt; because it already has........</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default/8761132008659075352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2311853283217283750/posts/default/8761132008659075352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nothingbadwillhappen.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-would-like-to-have-been-something.html' title='Nothing Bad Will Happen'/><author><name>Un-Fortunate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11961892168987051119</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>