<?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-3860388744902256497</id><updated>2024-10-24T23:13:30.021-07:00</updated><category term="black women relationships love hate friends"/><category term="love life relationships mariiage cheating love hate boyfriend girlfriend sex celibacy like heart break pain tears lies truth fidelity commitment"/><category term="men"/><category term="relationships"/><category term="women"/><category term="2011 2010 resolutions goals"/><category term="Barack Obama Hillary Clinton Democratic Republican CNN Fox News voting president racism constitution"/><category term="Boston Celtics Lakers Paul Pierce Kevin Garnett Rajon Rondo Ray Allen 2008 NBA Championshi["/><category term="R Kelly Verdict Sex Tape RB singer"/><category term="black relationships prejudice shade tone white ligh dark race divide unity"/><category term="blah blah blah"/><category term="blah relationships snow"/><category term="death friends sad"/><category term="depressed"/><category term="double standards"/><category term="education Mercy College New York"/><category term="emloyment jobs NYC manhatta grandpa grandma love independence 21st crap child bull work career clothes manager FML FTL hate cry"/><category term="fail"/><category term="family long time absence"/><category term="for colored girls review 2010 women love relationships tyler perry"/><category term="friend"/><category term="friends ego blah blah blah"/><category term="independent"/><category term="irony"/><category term="love"/><category term="love hate friends gossip rumors men women relationships"/><category term="love relationship soulmate like forever friendship fidelity spontaneous"/><category term="married"/><category term="midterms"/><category term="monogomy"/><category term="mouth noise"/><category term="numb cold blue labia funny orgasm walk tight vagina girl summer shorts"/><category term="oral sex love relationships men women"/><category term="random death friends backstabbers"/><category term="random lonely friends blog blah"/><category term="sick"/><category term="ugh"/><category term="ugh what? doritos jelly beans"/><category term="wrong love life relationships hurt deceit revenge"/><title type='text'>The Black Daria</title><subtitle type='html'>Morosely Me</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>67</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-3883858711517307938</id><published>2011-07-16T22:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T22:42:55.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heartbreak is Inevitable</title><content type='html'>And I don&#39;t only mean of the romantic type.&lt;br /&gt;
Family problems, finances, employment, career goals, confidence... Good grief. The list goes on and on.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All the while I still don&#39;t really have someone to confide in. I am quite frankly tired of trying to be vulnerable to someone and saying exactly what is on my mind without any judgement or generic advice. There are all these temporary fixes to finding happiness and being grateful for what I do have in my life, but this.. whatever I am dealing with is going on longer than 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As of late I &amp;nbsp;have been trying to stay&amp;nbsp;extremely busy, stay OUT of the house, and or sleep. But those idle moments before bed, waking up, and those dreaded train rides&amp;nbsp;allows me to deal with myself and my problems and it&#39;s all too much.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m just tired of it all. Pretending like everything is okay is not cutting it anymore. But the fear of me revealing my feelings could be taken as me being melodramatic or attention seeking. &amp;nbsp;I just think too much.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I thought I was rock bottom before.. Can&#39;t get any lower than this.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/3883858711517307938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/07/heartbreak-is-inevitable.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/3883858711517307938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/3883858711517307938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/07/heartbreak-is-inevitable.html' title='Heartbreak is Inevitable'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-4243026357151887890</id><published>2011-07-10T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-10T10:40:56.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHY IS IT SO HARD!?</title><content type='html'>I know I know.. it isn&#39;t supposed to be easy either. Well I am down to the wire. I am almost tapped out completely and I still haven&#39;t found a job. I revise my resume soo often in hopes that a job will come through but so far, BAD results.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Last summer I found myself in a similar situation and I got myself out luckily but this week something needs to happen. Im tired of not doing the things I want to do like travel, shop, help others, and just feel secure. Im going to be 24 this year and I feel like Im headed no where fast..still&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At least school starts next month, but what am I going to do from now till then?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/4243026357151887890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/07/why-is-it-so-hard.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/4243026357151887890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/4243026357151887890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/07/why-is-it-so-hard.html' title='WHY IS IT SO HARD!?'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-1809891423623502416</id><published>2011-07-10T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-10T10:30:47.594-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alright Already</title><content type='html'>I&#39;ve been quite annoyed recently.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just 6 short days ago, it has been a year since I lost my friend Jasmine. I was a little down and stayed in the house all day even though I promised myself I would not do that. The fact that she&#39;s gone bothered me, but not as much as my grandparent&#39;s comments about how I handled her death.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They pretty much said, &quot;You kids these days throw away jobs and opportunities like its nothing.&quot; And I responded with, &quot;I never gave up a job.&quot; I was so kindly reminded that I quit my assignment last summer that I was about 2 weeks into when she passed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I explained to them that I just couldn&#39;t hop back on the bus and come back up here like life was going to be the same. Then my grandmother told me that when my Aunt died she got a week to grieve and went right back to work at the hospital. I commend her for that because I don&#39;t know how I could cope with loss then pretty much walk right back into a place that&#39;s full of death. But how could she compare deaths?! Yes I know that me and Jasmine were not as close as a mother and daughter but how could she say that I was just lazy and didn&#39;t want to work.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As if the circumstances of her death were not traumatic like any other death. And I don&#39;t even tell the whole story of her death, I knew her killer too. He&#39;s been in my house, we partied together, and worked together too, so for him to take his life as well hurts just as much.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Its just so much stuff that occurred during that time and I have not healed. I tried talking to my grandmother in particular about it but its like &quot;I know you lost a friend, but they&#39;re replaceable unlike a daughter.&quot; So she will never know the full extent of my struggle with losing my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I may be wrong, but with my Aunt&#39;s death everything is clear cut. We know how and why she died. It was a terminal illness and we know she suffered and it all had to end at the tender age of 26. However, my friends life was snatched away, maliciously with no justice served. She was targeted by her ex-lover, my friend. Then he took his own life. Whatever, I&#39;m no better for making that comparison myself.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/1809891423623502416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/07/alright-already.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1809891423623502416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1809891423623502416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/07/alright-already.html' title='Alright Already'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-2084151624140234174</id><published>2011-06-14T00:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-14T00:56:29.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hmmmm</title><content type='html'>things have just been confusing and hectic. i don&#39;t know how to feel since i really don&#39;t have time for myself. i just keep myself moving with my nose buried in a book on these long train rides to and fro. So draining.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But wait, I have experienced an all too familiar emotion which is sadness due to my forever breaking heart. i guess once i have more time i can get into specifics but for now... Ta-taaa</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/2084151624140234174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/06/hmmmm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/2084151624140234174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/2084151624140234174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/06/hmmmm.html' title='hmmmm'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-3569686093955382936</id><published>2011-05-16T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T19:14:00.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Jones</title><content type='html'>Not only do I need this movie on DVD... (I&#39;ll go hunting for it this week and the soundtrack) but I wish cinematic love was real. I feel that maybe real love that&#39;s portrayed in these movies may be possible. I know majority of these story-lines are fanciful but art imitates life, right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember my first love like the back of my hand. I can remember every conversation, &amp;nbsp;kiss, touch, the taste of his mouth, and every sensation that ran through my body from my interactions with him. But all good things came to an end when he told me that he was in love with his girlfriend. Whom I knew nothing about.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After him, I still remained open to the idea of love. My idea of love is pure and young that will eventually lead to marriage. As of late the consensus seems to be is that marriage is outdated which, in my opinion, diminishes my picture perfect LOVE *sigh* So is real love obsolete as well?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/3569686093955382936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/05/love-jones.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/3569686093955382936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/3569686093955382936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/05/love-jones.html' title='Love Jones'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-5681768454149383959</id><published>2011-05-08T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T13:11:00.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Progress?</title><content type='html'>The crying finally stopped. I think I&#39;m starting to feel better everyday. Then again I have started shopping again (&lt;i&gt; As if I ever stopped&lt;/i&gt;). &amp;nbsp;My change in mood could be due to the fact that I take my last final on Tuesday. Or it could be that on Friday I got an email about a job for a company I did temp work for multiple times. It&#39;s good pay and benefits and its a very relaxed work environment. We will see how the interview goes this week, if I get one.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The only thing I am completely worried about is if I get this job I don&#39;t know if I can handle being a full time student as well. The upside is that I will have money to shop, move out, and hopefully get back to happy me. Ehhh we shall see though. I do want a degree badly but part of me also feels like life is too short to make sacrifices that cause me to be unhappy &amp;nbsp;for an uncertain future (thanks V. BadBunny!!). I can easily tell you what I want right now, 2-3 years from now, not so certain.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m just certain that I don&#39;t want to be depressed anymore. I&#39;m still considering if I should talk to a professional about my feelings but I fear that everyone will know. And along with &quot;everyone&quot; knowing I&#39;m scared they are going to judge me or think I&#39;m a drama queen or ungrateful. I know I have plenty to be thankful for but I still can&#39;t find lasting happiness in anything.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/5681768454149383959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/05/progress.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/5681768454149383959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/5681768454149383959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/05/progress.html' title='Progress?'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-6079433307041421722</id><published>2011-05-06T15:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T15:38:14.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Girl.. you are more</title><content type='html'>Yesterday afternoon I was on the train and I saw 4 young middle school aged hispanic girls get on the train. Their pants and shirts were extra tight. They also had on big hoop earrings and eyeliner. Then I noticed this man that was sitting down. He was staring at these young girls in the most lustful way ever. It really made me feel weird..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The girls were standing up so I watched his eyes move over their chests, butts, and legs. Continuously. Obviously this man was a pervert because there were clear signs that these females were underage. But I can&#39;t put all the blame on the man because what parent would allow their 12-13 year old daughter to walk out of the store with clothes that were fit for a grown woman? I understand all the social pressure of wanting to be pretty and sexy at a young age but these little girls playing dress up everyday, only brings on unwanted attention that a little girl can&#39;t handle.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hell, when I wear my tight pants and short skirts or dresses I sometimes get pissed at the extra attention. So can you imagine the way GROWN men may stare at them and the way they may feel. I don&#39;t have any children but I remember the way men used to stare at me and the things they would say. I hated walking past men and to this day I sometimes feel like I&#39;m being stripped down to my bra and panties by their eyes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I know that this is a different day and age from 10 years ago when I was a teenager. These provocatively dressed girls turn in to provocateurs and start talking back to these older guys. And then that opens a whole case of worms.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All in all I just want everyone to keep encouraging these young girls and teach them to enjoy being children. Being a woman is a huge role to play and it is sometimes scary. I really wish parents would teach their little princesses to be just that and constantly tell them that they are loved and beautiful. Tell them that their minds are far more powerful than what they can fathom so they can grow to be strong, confident, WOMEN.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/6079433307041421722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-girl-you-are-more.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/6079433307041421722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/6079433307041421722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-girl-you-are-more.html' title='Little Girl.. you are more'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-501242234394094646</id><published>2011-05-04T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-04T19:45:38.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>breakthrough hmmm</title><content type='html'>As you all should know I have a bad rap sheet with friends. Not on my behalf. I don&#39;t think. Well I was on &lt;a href=&quot;http://twitter.com/amberyum&quot;&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and I said something about how only my male followers tweet me. Then i thought.. I only really ever talked to men. So it leads me to think that because of some event in my childhood I subconsciously repel women and attract men for companionship.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For instance, the situation with my mother, she hurt me more than my father. He cheated. My mother, brother sister and I left and since we lived with her she was present but didn&#39;t pay us any attention. It actually goes further back than that. The first time my parents separated she started dating this other guy that lived with us and she got pregnant and then she shipped us off to Virginia to live with my aunt. That made me mad and I felt indifferent about her because she put herself and that man before us. We were only with my aunt for less than 6 months but it felt like forever. We didn&#39;t even get to talk to our father. The next time we saw him was when my other aunt died. After that my mother moved down to VA and started dating this other man and he ended up living with us too. That&#39;s when she started beating my ass like a mad woman because I was mouthy. Then my parents got back together and she continued beating me like she lost her damn mind. That continued until middle school until my parents finally divorced. She started dating again and then, BAM! Married to the guy she dated when she 1st moved to VA. That&#39;s when the kicking out started.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Okay, so I feel that my relationship with my mother is why I can&#39;t keep woman friends. Well only a small part of it. I think somehow I feel they will hurt me, be self centered, have ALL the bad intentions in the world, and LIE and SCHEME. I know its not true but tell that to my heart.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Some of the most evil things done around me or said to or about me have been by women. I notice their jealousy and conniving ways. I also see how women are the biggest back stabbers of all. I don&#39;t get it. Never will. I feel that in order for me to be friends with a woman I have to lower my standards and accept that women LOVE to talk about other women, or gossip, lie, and partake in every type of unnecessary drama.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t even think I&#39;m making sense... whatever.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/501242234394094646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/05/breakthrough-hmmm.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/501242234394094646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/501242234394094646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/05/breakthrough-hmmm.html' title='breakthrough hmmm'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-4446337518716039282</id><published>2011-05-02T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-02T13:39:05.498-07:00</updated><title type='text'>mother&#39;s day</title><content type='html'>I. Hate. Mother&#39;s. Day with all my heart. Only because me and my mother&#39;s relationship is crappy. She doesn&#39;t seem to know that no matter how many times I may tell her that. A few days ago I was talking to my sister on the phone, then my mother asked to speak to me. I figured she wanted to talk about make-up because that is the only thing that we can have a decent conversation about. Surprisingly,&amp;nbsp;she talks to me about her giving me her tax information so I can do my financial aid. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Somehow we start talking about mother&#39;s day and I tell her that I will send her gift soon and&amp;nbsp; she asks me &quot;Whatever youre giving me, is it going to put a smile on my face?&quot;. I say &quot;Have I never given you a gift that you didnt want or need?&quot; And her response &quot;Yes, plenty of times.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
See I would have let that comment go but the fact is that I am going into my lil bit of money to still think of her. I still don&#39;t have a job, but that doesnt matter to her. I thought the whole parent /child realtionship was suppposed to be where she shouldn&#39;t have to ask me for anything. I can see if the circumstances were different and I could provide for her I wouldnt mind.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wish she knew material things mean NOTHING when it&#39;s all saud and done. She always has her hand out&amp;nbsp;expecting something&amp;nbsp;from me. I didn&#39;t ask to be here and she knows I am not in a position to just give and give. She knows that I am a giver and she tries to capitalize from that. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m going to buy her a gift becuase&amp;nbsp;I already told her I would do so, but there will be no visits to VA or extra gifts throughout the year. I&#39;m just tired of her.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/4446337518716039282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/05/mothers-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/4446337518716039282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/4446337518716039282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/05/mothers-day.html' title='mother&#39;s day'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-1668800142078479396</id><published>2011-04-29T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T15:14:44.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Bit of Sweetness</title><content type='html'>I still feel like crap of course. I&#39;m trying to find the root of my said debilitating sadness. I woke up for school yesterday and I just couldn&#39;t keep myself together while getting dressed and on the train ride. That couldn&#39;t be more embarrassing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was so emotionally drained in my favorite class. I usually can&#39;t wait for that class because my teacher is such a babe and he&#39;s a musician. He always orients the day&#39;s lesson to music or something I find extremely captivating. Anyway, I &amp;nbsp;was not enthused about being there until he asked my opinion of big airline companies using small regional carriers without background checks. I gave my response willingly because no one in the class seemed interested. We had a short dialogue amongst ourselves for about 3 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fast forward to the room change to complete an evaluation. I finished the evaluation and I walk out the class behind him and we both walked down the stairs together and he asked me about my other classes. I then explain that my grades are fine but I am unhappy with school. He said he noticed that I wasn&#39;t &quot;there&quot; today and that I was very bright and asked what my career goals were.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I told him that I was interested in the music program at Brooklyn College only to find out that he graduated from there and is still very involved on campus. He even offered to contact some people at the college if I needed a reference or any help at all when i make that step. How SWEET. I also found it very sweet and sad that it takes a complete stranger to notice that I&#39;m unhappy. Or maybe I was just that obvious. I don&#39;t know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For the past few months I&#39;ve been having the worst stomach pain and today on the train ride home from school, the pain became persistent. When I got to my stop I found it hard to stand but I made it off the train, up the steps, across the parking lot and into the house. When I got in my room my head started throbbing, I got extremely hot and took off my jacket. I went into the bathroom and when I went to wash my hands I couldn&#39;t stand straight. I took out two Aleves from the medicine cabinet and stumbled into the kitchen to get a cup of water to wash down the pills. I got into my bed and fell asleep for about 4 hours.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I would hate to be sick and end up in the hospital, but I am unsure of my medical coverage. I&#39;ll call Monday to see if I&#39;m covered. I can&#39;t afford to miss the last week of school because I got sick.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe this stress is taking a toll on me. I don&#39;t know what a mental breakdown feels like but I&#39;m sure that&#39;s where I&#39;m headed.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/1668800142078479396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/little-bit-of-sweetness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1668800142078479396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1668800142078479396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/little-bit-of-sweetness.html' title='A Little Bit of Sweetness'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-2152381974476915023</id><published>2011-04-27T22:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-27T22:49:38.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I&#39;m Sad.. Again</title><content type='html'>Yesterday night, like most nights I reflect upon my life before bed. I guess that can be a good and bad thing because, naturally, I&#39;m my own worst critic. I was lying there thinking &quot;When was the last time someone asked me &#39;How are you, really?&#39; &quot; I know people ask me that often and maybe on a daily basis, but I feel that no one in my life even has the time or desire to see what my mental state is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Its even hard for me to write this right now because my eyes are full of tears. I&#39;m just alone and it is kind of killing me softly.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I also asked myself &quot;When was the last time I was truly happy?&quot; I can&#39;t think of one consistent time of pure bliss and total satisfaction with those around me and how they treated me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m just really tired of crying myself to sleep every night with these same thoughts and no solution. I wish I could just go and find happiness but it&#39;s not that easy of course. I know it comes from self satisfaction and I love me. That&#39;s undeniable.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This slump I&#39;m in even makes me question if school is for me... It just feels so wrong. I lost all desire for school. I&#39;m slacking with my homework and studies and I just don&#39;t care. Not caring, being alone forever and not having a specific plan for my life are the most frightening things to me. And I&#39;m getting bombarded with all three.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I just need a solution, wake up call, moment of clarity or something</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/2152381974476915023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/im-sad-again.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/2152381974476915023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/2152381974476915023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/im-sad-again.html' title='I&#39;m Sad.. Again'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-9018171694132894369</id><published>2011-04-18T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-18T09:12:09.573-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="black women relationships love hate friends"/><title type='text'>Ignorance is Crippling</title><content type='html'>I really do &amp;nbsp;hate talking about color all the time but ignorant folk always say dumb stuff and i feel obliged to speak on it. This girl that i have been hanging out with off and on seemed cool at first. She&#39;s 19 and we had a class together. We would do stuff like shopping and eating and the expected chit chat about men and sex.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One day we were walking out of Macy&#39;s and we saw this nice looking clean cut dark skinned guy and she says &quot;Oooh he&#39;s cute for a dark skinned guy.&quot; I look at her and say &quot;What did you just say? You don&#39;t like dark skinned men?&quot; She responds &quot;no&quot; and I say &quot;What you like light skin guys with long hair or something?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;She says &quot;yes.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
See I don&#39;t have a problem with having a preference at all because I have a preference, but to totally write off a certain type of guy based on skin color or hair is so stupid. I mean she is young and maybe she will learn but for now I can&#39;t deal with her stupidity. And sadly, it doesn&#39;t stop there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Last week sometime we were walking to the train and she just blurts out &quot;I can&#39;t see myself being friends with an ugly girl.&quot; Once again I give her the screw face and say &quot;Well I&#39;m not all that so I&#39;m not going to judge anyone and since I&#39;m older I&#39;ve learned not to look at things like that because a good person is a good person.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I haven&#39;t really said much to her after her showing me who she really is. I know ALL women are not like that but this is one of the main reasons why I write people off so quickly and so often. I appreciate that people have the need to tell me some shit they wouldn&#39;t usually tell any random person but don&#39;t ever come at me with your ignorance. &amp;nbsp;I think I&#39;m fine with not having close friends.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/9018171694132894369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/ignorance-is-crippling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/9018171694132894369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/9018171694132894369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/ignorance-is-crippling.html' title='Ignorance is Crippling'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-3370267988314381676</id><published>2011-04-13T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T16:00:17.602-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="married"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="monogomy"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="women"/><title type='text'>ooh! Married Men</title><content type='html'>Don&#39;t automatically write me off with the title. I just want to make it known that I am completely attracted to married men. However, the attraction stops right there and remains just that. Or maybe it&#39;s not attraction at all and just admiration.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sadly, there are women that choose to exclusively date married men and I don&#39;t condone that practice. I have no clue why they feel they should be a home wrecker and have an affair with a man that has taken the ultimate commitment. But, I think the fact that the man has made that commitment is why she may be attracted to him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A married man to me screams decisive, full of conviction, faithful, committed, expressive and loving. I know that can all change at the drop of a hat and being married does not necessarily make someone faithful, but it&#39;s what I&#39;d like to believe.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Being single I have encountered men that don&#39;t even want to commit to a relationship. So when I&#39;m on the train and I see that man with the kids and the ring I kind of stare because he&#39;s sexy to me. And I know I want that one day but the attention I get from men, I know they are just seeking quick thrills. Even women have become so liberated sexually that they put the sex before companionship.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Do men that seek and value relationships in general that are my age still exist? Or maybe I&#39;m destined to marry some guy that&#39;s in his 30&#39;s that&#39;s ready to settle down? Or could it just be that I am too young and not in the right place to even consider wanting to be in a serious committed relationship? who knows...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But for now, I&#39;m gonna still sneak a peek at those sexy married 30 somethings.. of course only when they&#39;re alone ;)</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/3370267988314381676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/ooh-married-men.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/3370267988314381676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/3370267988314381676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/ooh-married-men.html' title='ooh! Married Men'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-7964370745683357275</id><published>2011-04-11T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T19:48:24.198-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="double standards"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="women"/><title type='text'>Double Standards pt. 2</title><content type='html'>As of late twitter has been pissing me the hell off. I always see these men I follow boasting, bragging, and bagging on women. Being a woman is like a double edged sword. We are constantly worried about our appearances not only to appease ourselves but to look good for men too (whether we&#39;d like to admit it or not). I&#39;m not ashamed to admit it because attention of the opposite sex and ultimately, sex is a basic need.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, being a woman, our physique is what attracts men. The breast, hips, lips, butt, waist, and thighs are important to men because these are our indicators of &quot;fertility&quot;. Of course that doesn&#39;t mean that a man wants to make babies with every woman with a nice waist to ass ratio, but it is one of the 1st things most men look for.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
However, we all know that all women are not shaped like Rihanna, Esther Baxter, or Rosa Acosta and that&#39;s fine! My problem is that every man thinks that they look like Adonis. How can a man have the audacity to criticize my love handles when he looks like he&#39;s about 7 months pregnant?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Women definitely have standards too. So if a man says he only dates women that are a specific size and he has a 2 inch hard on.. we have a problem! I swear that if the tables were turned and all men had to wear banana hammocks, women would not be choosing majority of these shit talkers.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Men act like they have gold in their pants, but there is a thin line between confident and cocky. I just wish that most men would look in the mirror before they criticize a woman because of the way she looks because I guarantee that there are plenty women that don&#39;t find you attractive either.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
end rant &amp;lt;3</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/7964370745683357275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/double-standards-pt-2.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/7964370745683357275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/7964370745683357275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/double-standards-pt-2.html' title='Double Standards pt. 2'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-1047988492584702150</id><published>2011-04-10T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T12:05:23.965-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blah blah blah"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="depressed"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="independent"/><title type='text'>ya know what....</title><content type='html'>I was JUST feeling all grand and stuff. I was running off the fumes of yesterday&#39;s performance at the open mic night and positive energy and artistic souls but this living situation just sucked up all my glory. I was kind of turned off yesterday before I left the house because I was told to clean my room while walking out the door.I wouldn&#39;t have been so annoyed if my room was in fact &quot;not clean&quot;. I&#39;m tired of this small ass room and cramming all my shit in here.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In this moment I have become fed up with my living situation. I can&#39;t do this shit anymore. Family initially saying they support me but after a while they make me feel like I&#39;m a lazy, shiftless, free loader. I know that I am neither of those, however I can admit that a lot of days I don&#39;t feel good which is something I can&#39;t help.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember from a few months ago my little cousin said to my grandmother, &quot;Amber has a lot of grey hair, probably because of stress.&quot; Grandma responds, &quot;Stress from what? Amber has nothing to be stressed about.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I constantly talk to her and tell her about the things that stress me out like not having a permanent full time job since December 2008, money, loss, insecurities, my mother, and my lack of independence. I feel like I do a lot of talking but I don&#39;t get through to anyone or is it just that no one really cares. Everyone is quick to give advice for a situation they know nothing about. All my family members are hard workers and they think I&#39;m not trying half as hard as them when they were my age.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I want a job, my own residence, and car just like the next man, but my lack of attaining those things does not mean I&#39;m not trying. I don&#39;t know what I am going to do to get my own but today is my breaking point. Somethings gotta give.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/1047988492584702150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/ya-know-what.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1047988492584702150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1047988492584702150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/ya-know-what.html' title='ya know what....'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-6220387218266118541</id><published>2011-04-04T21:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T21:23:24.821-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friend"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="irony"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sick"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ugh"/><title type='text'>ughh</title><content type='html'>I&#39;m into day 5 of this cold that I have. I couldn&#39;t even go to class on Friday. I&#39;m still half way in and out the dump because I missed out on making some money on Thursday because I have class on Thursday. Only to show to class on Thursday and the teacher doesn&#39;t show.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Since I&#39;m battling this stupid cold I didn&#39;t do much at all. On Saturday my friend Jasmines mom came to NY from VA and I played tour guide. That was fun. It was an early day. Her and Jasmine laugh alike so that was comforting. Plus it was nice to see her smile. I told her that it was hard for me to see her because when I think about how I feel about Jasmine I cant begin to feel the pain she must feel. She told me that Marc was like her child too so she suffered 2 losses.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
How melancholy. Anyway I feel like school is hindering my money flow. I want to do both. So now I&#39;m considering Cosmetology at Aveda Institute for the summer so that when school starts I can be in school fulltime and make money and move out. But for now it&#39;s just talk... until the next time</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/6220387218266118541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/ughh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/6220387218266118541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/6220387218266118541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/04/ughh.html' title='ughh'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-420959701014291904</id><published>2011-03-30T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T12:00:02.423-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends ego blah blah blah"/><title type='text'>Epiphany From the John</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote style=&quot;border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;&quot; type=&quot;cite&quot;&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;As I&#39;m sitting on the crapper I usually handle my business then I&#39;m out the bathroom, but today &amp;nbsp;I came to an actualization. I dont have friends because I dont take what people say for face value and I may think my opinions and &quot;theories&quot; are superior to others. Well at least come off that way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote style=&quot;border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;&quot; type=&quot;cite&quot;&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;I don&#39;t automatically come to the assumption that I&#39;m smart and they&#39;re dumb, but these folks usually self destruct when pretending they know something or blatantly tell me som bs (probably unknowingly).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote style=&quot;border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;&quot; type=&quot;cite&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;I guess they take offense and get intimidated because I indirectly let them conclude that they are talking in circles.&amp;nbsp; I know for a fact that I&#39;m not the brightest bulb but I do crave someone in my life to match my intellect. I want to sit in Starbucks and talk about free will, conspiracy theories, religion and morale. Ooh and fine wines and cheese.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;I love clothes, shoes, make up, men, and hair talk too but its so mundane and exhausting.&amp;nbsp; I guess only old people talk about stuff like that. *shrugs*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/420959701014291904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/epiphany-from-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/420959701014291904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/420959701014291904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/epiphany-from-john.html' title='Epiphany From the John'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-1144550618984295060</id><published>2011-03-29T16:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T16:36:55.543-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fail"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="midterms"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mouth noise"/><title type='text'>I Failed</title><content type='html'>I suppose it was my ill fate to completely bomb this Introductory Philosophy Midterm. What a day! Not to mention I only got about 5 hours of sleep. Oh how I miss the days of 12 hours of slumber.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I can&#39;t seem to pinpoint why my sleep pattern switches up so instantly and drastically. Over the past 2-3 years I venture to and from too much sleep or not enough. Can i get a middle ground? I&#39;d think my worries and insecurities induce this god-awful insomnia.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Talk about pissed though... I&#39;m actually in class hand writing this post. I pulled out the loose leaf for the essay portion but I can&#39;t seem to focus because the professor is making IMMENSE mouth noises.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess I&#39;ll try to give the essay another shot. Later.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
....Ah! Forget it! *doodles*</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/1144550618984295060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-failed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1144550618984295060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1144550618984295060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-failed.html' title='I Failed'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-166523220697021363</id><published>2011-03-28T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T18:50:52.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Showered Today</title><content type='html'>I was a useless couch potato all weekend. I finally decided to cease my continued funk that was temporarily relived from the occasional ho bath and take a real shower. It sort of livened me up and &amp;nbsp;my brain&amp;nbsp;started&amp;nbsp;to function normally (whatever that means). I realized that my spring break is effin over and all I did was waste it away on numerous train rides, Amy Ruth&#39;s, sleep, the occasional job search, and fantasizing about what my life lacks. Then somewhere in between the water turning from hot to luke warm I started thinking that on June 15th this year I have been out of high school for 6 years.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What a confidence booster since I haven&#39;t accomplished shit in my adult years. That means my 10 year high school reunion is freaking 4 years away. Im so fearful of not being shit from now to then that I don&#39;t think I&#39;ll even go. Whether I&#39;d like to admit it or not, but I do somewhat care about what these previous peers will think of me even though I can&#39;t think of one great friend that I had while in school. Partially because my mother was strict on me that i didn&#39;t even exchange numbers with kids from school. Talk about LOSER!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At least I&#39;m in school right? *grins* &amp;nbsp;With no income but hey its something. That&#39;s all for now though. Bout to get wrapped in this new mixtape.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/166523220697021363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-showered-today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/166523220697021363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/166523220697021363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-showered-today.html' title='I Showered Today'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-6613027825197988133</id><published>2011-03-27T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T20:27:40.837-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ugh what? doritos jelly beans"/><title type='text'>Comfort in Spicy Nacho Doritos, Jolly Rancher Jelly Beans, and Lady Day</title><content type='html'>I don&#39;t know why I cant seem to find any happiness in anything. I think I&#39;m happy with myself, but I can most certainly bank on these delish high calorie snacks to make me happy...temporarily. Anyway, yesterday my most sociable great aunt came over (insert sarcasm) and since my grandfather wasn&#39;t here I had to go downstairs to open the door. I had been slumming it all day. I mean I hadn&#39;t even showered so i was still in my too big pajamas. I go downstairs and the guy from upstairs was in the hallway with his crazy ass girlfriend. He was on the steps and i walked past him to open the door. I said hi to my aunt then walked back up the stairs, but the guy stood up out of the way and was leaning on the wall. My freaking pants were falling off and he saw all my ass. Great!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ve been feeling like crap all weekend probably because I feel lonely and I&#39;m annoyed with my living situation. Looking at my dwindling bank account &amp;nbsp;is also a huge annoyance since shopping is my self prescribed medication.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I know my grandparents think I&#39;m a lazy slob but this week was my spring break. I would cook more often but no one ever eats my food. When I get around them to talk they end up telling me what I could be doing differently with my life. School is a big deal to me and i get all A&#39;s and I&#39;m looking for a job.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway... my mouth tastes like fruity ass.. going to brush and turn off &amp;nbsp;this &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/Lady-Day-Best-Billie-Holiday/dp/B00005Q45Y?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=theb002-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;Billie Holiday&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;1&quot; src=&quot;http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=theb002-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=B00005Q45Y&quot; style=&quot;border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;&quot; width=&quot;1&quot; /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/6613027825197988133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/comfort-in-spicy-nacho-doritos-jolly.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/6613027825197988133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/6613027825197988133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/comfort-in-spicy-nacho-doritos-jolly.html' title='Comfort in Spicy Nacho Doritos, Jolly Rancher Jelly Beans, and Lady Day'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-1116522226745385240</id><published>2011-03-26T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T09:03:55.541-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death friends sad"/><title type='text'>I miss her</title><content type='html'>My Jasmine.. It&#39;s been over six months since she passed. I didn&#39;t &quot;break down&quot; as those close to me intended. I do get extremely sad sometimes. I guess I still have a lot of regrets. I should have spent more time, called her more often, told her I loved her, and claim her as my best friend. Saying &quot;you don&#39;t know what you&#39;ve got till it&#39;s gone&quot; is an understatement.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The whole situation is upsetting because I still feel deep down that I could have saved her. She was shot, by her ex-boyfriend (arggghhh! so painful to type). What if I would have had my phone that day and read her text about her being scared for her life. What would I have told her? Yeah everyone says, God&#39;s will was for her life to be taken.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My response to that: In that way though?! Murder isn&#39;t of God right?! So if it&#39;s His will, what you&#39;re saying is that God will conclude his plan in any way?! &amp;nbsp;That type of BS and other things like my lack of employment and impulsiveness is making me an atheist. But anyway...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If I could have saved her for a moment just to say bye and tell her how much i appreciated her, would be the solution. Even if that would have killed me along with her, I wouldn&#39;t have cared. I know I&#39;m still hurting though. I need an outlet and eating, shopping and blogging isn&#39;t enough.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/1116522226745385240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-miss-her.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1116522226745385240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1116522226745385240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-miss-her.html' title='I miss her'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-1293864408954061037</id><published>2011-03-23T23:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T23:55:36.907-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="black women relationships love hate friends"/><title type='text'>We Can Do Better</title><content type='html'>Last week a friend and I were in separate check-out lines at H&amp;amp;M. The cashier was very friendly to the girl ahead of me. I heard her mention how much she liked one of the items the customer bought. When that customer was done she smiled at her and told her have a nice day. I&#39;m up next and I smile, say hello, and hand her my item. She didn&#39;t even look at me or open her mouth. The cashier was black and the previous customer was white.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I cant imagine what the hell happened within a few seconds to make this lady completely rude to me for no apparent reason. I remained cool while&amp;nbsp;in the store, but i got pissed when my friend said,&quot;I got this 5 dollar gift card for buying this.&quot; I&#39;m like, &quot;I didn&#39;t get one.&quot; We bought just about the same thing. So I&#39;m standing in front of the store analyzing the situation.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We have all had that gum popping cashier with the attitude that cant even stop chewing to tell you your total, or the one that seems as if she is having a bad day. But, all too often the cashier happens to be another Black woman that gets this automatic attitude when she sees you and this makes me question why Black women treat each other the way we do?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d be a narcissist to assume that she was jealous or intimidated by me but, if I see another pretty woman and she&#39;s within ear length I would compliment her or smile at her. I would never cut my eyes at her or get an attitude. Why? Because she&#39;s cute?!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I also notice that plenty women, regardless of race, continuously critique the next woman. I look at all these blogs dedicated to poking fun at other people based on their hair, clothes and make-up and I wonder &quot;Who Cares?!&quot; If this lady with mahogany colored skin wants to wear bubble gum pink lipstick, let her. It&#39;s her choice! What are you proving by being nasty or making fun of another woman?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But, back to my main point, why would you disrespect a complete stranger? Does it make you feel better about yourself to make it obvious that you don&#39;t like the way I look? It has to be based on appearance because what more can she gather from me than my face?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I didn&#39;t expect this cashier to be overly nice to me but the least amount of respect could have sufficed. What do you think it is that makes Black women have this impulsive hatred for one another?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/1293864408954061037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/we-can-do-better.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1293864408954061037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/1293864408954061037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/we-can-do-better.html' title='We Can Do Better'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-5131261533685747731</id><published>2011-03-16T21:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T21:18:17.529-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="oral sex love relationships men women"/><title type='text'>To Spit or Swallow</title><content type='html'>I was asked yesterday on &lt;a href=&quot;http://twitter.com/AmberYum&quot;&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;to do a post on Spitting or Swallowing? Of course i&#39;m hesistant to post about this because the topic is so crass! *faceplam* Why did I say, &quot;Yes&quot;?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember in the 90&#39;s some rumor started that Lil Kim swallowed so much man milk that she had to have her stomach pumped or something? WTF?! So I know you&#39;re probably thinking if I spit or swallow. Unfortunately, neither. Yeah call me lame but I also haven&#39;t been in a long term relationship in a long while to even have the opportunity to try swallowing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;u&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.ambernorose.com/2011/03/to-spit-or-swallow.html&quot;&gt;Continue&amp;nbsp;Reading The Full Post Here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/u&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/5131261533685747731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/to-spit-or-swallow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/5131261533685747731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/5131261533685747731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/to-spit-or-swallow.html' title='To Spit or Swallow'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-8742608083569641772</id><published>2011-03-12T06:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T06:22:08.401-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Cares She&#39;s Handicapped?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;Before I begin I must make note that I am in no way or form attempting to ridicule anyone with physical or mental deformities, conditions,&amp;nbsp; or&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot; id=&quot;lw_1299936970_0&quot; style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(54, 99, 136); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 2px; color: #366388; cursor: pointer;&quot;&gt;genetic predispositions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;I am enrolled in Oral Communication or simply Speech Class. Every few weeks or so we have to stand before the class and deliver a speech. When we write the outline for our speech we must take into account that it must intrigue and captivate our audience, the class. We also have to submit our outline typed in the correct format, not a manuscript.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;So, there is this lady from China that has a very thick accent. She is also in one of those motorized wheel chairs ( I don&#39;t know what you call it). The 1st speech we had to deliver to the class, she spoke about her coming to the United States for surgery on her back. It was very hard to understand her but I grasped the idea &amp;nbsp;of her speech.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;I glanced at the paper she turned into the professor and it was just manuscript. We weren&#39;t supposed to do that. Since she didn&#39;t turn in the outline and didn&#39;t follow the format her speech was incorrect! After every individual speech we constructively criticize the performance. No one said anything negative to her and as I expected, neither did the professor. He said, &quot;Your speech was very clear, you have a great speaking voice and you used great vocabulary.&quot;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;He failed to mention that she didn&#39;t follow the format, she spoke too low, and know one knew what the hell she was talking about. Fast forward to Yesterday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;We had more speeches to deliver and its the Chinese lady&#39;s turn to deliver her speech. Once again, she turned in a manuscript. She announced that her topic was about the Economy in China.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;That was the last understandable&amp;nbsp;thing she said for about 5 minutes. I look around the class and I see students laughing, texting, closing their eyes, the professor was fiddling with his watch and I couldn&#39;t help but wonder when this was going to be over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;When she finished, it was time for us to critique the speech. No one wanted to say anything. The professor was very sweet to her saying that it was a very complex speech and this time he did mention her format but that was it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;So, on the train ride home, I thought how is this teacher going to possibly give this girl a bad grade? He already treats her differently than the other students. There is an apparent miscommunication because she obviously cant follow directions and no one knows what she is saying majority of the time.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;But, my problem is that if she had the mental capacity to get into college and obviously pass grade school why can&#39;t she be treated like the other students. There are other students that are capable of the work that also are not from the United States with thick accents, but they follow the format and deliver interesting and great speeches.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif;&quot;&gt;I know it&#39;s none of my business if the professor gives her a passing grade or not but she is just like the rest of us and she should be treated as such.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/8742608083569641772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/who-cares-shes-handicapped.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/8742608083569641772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/8742608083569641772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/who-cares-shes-handicapped.html' title='Who Cares She&#39;s Handicapped?!'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860388744902256497.post-193531697320777901</id><published>2011-03-12T05:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T05:39:11.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I wonder...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;[Insert nerdy thought cloud here] I&#39;m currently studying&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot; id=&quot;lw_1299936970_0&quot; style=&quot;color: #366388;&quot;&gt;Freud&#39;s Psychosexual Stages of Development&lt;/span&gt;. According to this model of gratification, based on my age and experiences, i should be at the stage of Intimacy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;Since my lack of intimacy is overwhelmingly annoying and somewhat changing my perspective on relationships, I wonder if it&#39;s causing some sort regression. And unfortunately I think Ive regressed to the stage of Anal gratification. Not anal sex but taking poos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;Gross right? Well I get a similar effect from self love. You get that urge and you prepare mentally for that&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot; id=&quot;lw_1299936970_1&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-color: rgb(54, 99, 136); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 2px; color: #366388; cursor: pointer;&quot;&gt;sweet release&lt;/span&gt;. In my opinion, I didn&#39;t know this basic biological process could be so rewarding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;I literally get excited. Like &quot;Yay! Time to go poopy!&quot; And what makes it even better is that no one bothers me when I&#39;m in the bathroom! (Hmmm. Maybe I should start loving myself in there.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;Anyway, this lack of sex has me wondering if, when we reach and pass new levels on Freud&#39;s Stages of Sexual Development are the previous lost or do we remain equally gratified by the prior? My textbook doesn&#39;t answer this. What do you think?&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/feeds/193531697320777901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-wonder.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/193531697320777901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3860388744902256497/posts/default/193531697320777901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberyum.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-wonder.html' title='I wonder...'/><author><name>Amber Yum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11686364377355484640</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7OO7C23a_M_PMAmhT8z_krEdELGbruxf0jFYEapJLIWJQOifikh8hDZNAWxmM_Zhb5VA3KfHa__2XsFJj4EAPChQjq2UwTlQHA036-c2OyhI_K-E1MBSZ_OYfFkAUz4/s220/IMAG0358.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>