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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Thu, 21 Apr 2011 23:11:07 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>story</category><category>Tori Amos</category><category>A</category><category>suburbia</category><category>movies</category><category>vacation</category><category>mistakes</category><category>New York City</category><category>gym</category><category>Los Angeles</category><category>coincidence</category><category>letter</category><category>Sheryl Crow</category><category>home</category><category>B</category><category>dreams</category><category>memories</category><category>Mamma Mia</category><category>laundry</category><category>church</category><category>food</category><category>celebrity</category><category>ice skating</category><category>concerts</category><category>poetry</category><category>choices</category><category>nerves</category><category>sick</category><category>cat</category><category>traffic</category><category>musings</category><category>work</category><category>The Dark Knight</category><category>rant</category><category>tennis</category><category>bike riding</category><title>Thriving Oleanders</title><description /><link>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>261</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/ThrivingOleanders" /><feedburner:info uri="thrivingoleanders" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-7726115388408471045</guid><pubDate>Sun, 04 Jan 2009 07:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-04T00:29:26.317-08:00</atom:updated><title>Not Hoping For A Rerun</title><description>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ffccff;"&gt;At 8am this morning I woke up to the buzzing of my blackberry and answered another one of "those" phone calls. It wasn't the first time over the last year that I have received one of "those" calls. Somehow, I thought this year was going to be different. I thought the worst was behind us and that the universe owed us a break. But I was mistaken. Just three days into the new year and already, the cloud of impending doom hangs over my head and follows me as I shuffle throughout my day. Despite "the news" I managed to pull myself together and make it to the loft on 8t&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;h&lt;/span&gt; and Broadway. For five hours I drank strong coffee and ate snacks that come individually wrapped in Christmas boxes from relatives and clients. I turned off my blackberry and turned off my life and stayed present as we shared our fears as well as our hopes and dreams for the upcoming year. Tomorrow I'll find out if this year is starting off differently or if I am faced with a carbon copy of what I was &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;feeling&lt;/span&gt; this time last year. I just need to remember, that although I may not have control over situations, I do have control over my reactions. So whatever happens, at least one thing can be different this time around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-7726115388408471045?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/8QOAOY-obyQ/not-hoping-for-rerun.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2009/01/not-hoping-for-rerun.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-1312184720069922559</guid><pubDate>Sun, 04 Jan 2009 06:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-03T22:29:02.905-08:00</atom:updated><title>Disco Jesus (Part 1)</title><description>There's been a light flickering over the crucifix at church for the past few weeks.  I think it's a short and for some reason it hasn't been fixed.  I like it.  The lights flicker erratically:  short, long, on, off, flicker, flash.  I like to ask questions and think that the flashing lights are answering me.  Of course, whatever I ask, I can pretty much take any flashing as a sign of whatever it is I want the answer to be.&lt;br /&gt;And the answer today was it's time to start a new blog.&lt;br /&gt;I started thinking about it a little while ago when someone made the comment that all the blue was drowning out the pink.  It wasn't the first comment that made me feel guilty for taking up so much space on what is a joint effort.  I realize I've usurped this whole blog and the "s" in thrivingoleanders is somewhat missing.&lt;br /&gt;I think sometimes people are looking for pink and are assaulted with blue.  Or pink is there, but there's so much blue all around it, it gets prematurely pushed down.  Or some people just don't get that A is pink and K is blue and end up thinking A is writing things that she's not actually writing and then she has to answer questions that have nothing to do with her.  Or A gets associated and has to deal with comments that are mostly geared towards K.&lt;br /&gt;In any case, today is the day.  A year has passed since the first post on thrivingoleanders and it's time for a spin-off.  I'll try to gear my thrivingoleander blogs more towards stuff that it was meant for, especially since K and A are starting new adventures in new places.  And the new blog will probably be mostly the same stuff that this blog has been for me:  venting, dreaming, naval gazing, waxing on, confessing, and the like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://fictionalself.blogspot.com"&gt;http://fictionalself.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-1312184720069922559?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/4W4xbQxPVCo/disco-jesus-part-1.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2009/01/disco-jesus-part-1.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-8248143516955050676</guid><pubDate>Sat, 03 Jan 2009 07:59:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-03T00:10:59.617-08:00</atom:updated><title>Decision</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I think I have come to a conclusion about something I've been thinking about it for around a week and the time for me to actually do it is at hand.  I don't know when you know something is right or when it's wrong, but sometimes you just have to do it and see what happens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;It's like tennis, you commit to the  shot and either it's in or it's out.  But you eventually have to hit the ball and deal with the results.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-8248143516955050676?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/exfh_iTbLG4/decision.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2009/01/decision.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-6551720614431066005</guid><pubDate>Fri, 02 Jan 2009 05:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-01T21:41:08.528-08:00</atom:updated><title>Renesmee</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;It started innocently enough.  I wanted to see "Twilight."  I made B come see it with me.  Then I bought the book and started reading.  It was all downhill from there.  B was gone for Christmas, so all I did was read and read and read.  I finished all four books in record time (for me).  I hate the books but I love them.  They're so trashy but they have seeped into my brain.  I thought once I had finished reading them, the hunger would be over, but I can't stop thinking about them or talking about them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I think poor B might be nearing the breaking point.  I made him take me to see "Let the Right One In" tonight and he wasn't impressed.  He called it "A Norwegian 'Twilight' for 12 year olds."  I keep having to say the word "Renesmee" out loud or in my head at least a couple times a day.  It's like I'm bewitched or something.  I just hope it ends soon.  I need to find something else to fixate on before I drive everyone around me crazy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-6551720614431066005?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/0oj_P7YvmqQ/renesmee.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2009/01/renesmee.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-4293666442060347392</guid><pubDate>Thu, 01 Jan 2009 03:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-31T19:30:57.521-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">work</category><title>Moving on Out</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;The last day of the year.  The last day before I switch jobs.  It's weird that it all timed out this way.  I think I'm just kind of out of it in regards to the whole switch.  I've known it was coming for such a long time and now it's here and it's just happening. I think it's just my defense mechanism, I just let it happen like it's out of my hands.  But it's my life and it's people I spend a lot of time with and it's changing for the first time in a while.  The last time things changed so radically, I ended up kicking and screaming for weeks, months, maybe a year.  I hope I'm moving away from the dark and into the light.  And I guess it's better that I'm actually taking the chance instead of standing still.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-4293666442060347392?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/p87EMwYLQXE/moving-on-out.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/moving-on-out.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-7873039335504366781</guid><pubDate>Wed, 31 Dec 2008 07:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-30T23:53:48.495-08:00</atom:updated><title>Flashing Lights</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I was driving to work.  I hurried to make a light towards the freeway--not because I was in a rush, but just because I didn't want to have to stop.  I heard the siren and immediately went to the dark place.  What did I do?  I was rushing?  Was I speeding?  Was I unsafe?  My tags are up to date.  Was a light out?  I just reattached my rear view mirror with glue, so that's not missing.  What happened?  I hate trying to figure out what I've done wrong.  I hate that feeling of having done something wrong and not knowing what it is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I turned on to the freeway on ramp and saw the lights flashing behind me.  Ugh.  It's the holidays, it's 8 in the morning.  Is this really necessary?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;The police officer was just entering the highway, he passed me and went on his way.  I hate driving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-7873039335504366781?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/L_Pt8G_eACg/flashing-lights.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/flashing-lights.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-1163731158334180603</guid><pubDate>Tue, 30 Dec 2008 01:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-29T17:48:16.692-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">dreams</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">tennis</category><title>French Dreams</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I had a dream I was at the French Open.  But it wasn't like the real French Open, it was like an indoor bull ring where everything was lit by a soft, red light.  Rafael Nadal had made the final and his opponent was... some 8 year old kid.  I remember thinking "How did this kid get through six rounds?"  But I explained it to myself by thinking he must be a clay court specialist.  I thought, maybe he just has speed and gets everything back all the time, waiting for whoever he is playing to make a mistake.  The crowd was wild and the kid was no match for Rafa.  Towards the middle of the third set, he just sat down.  Rafa came over to check on him, but he was too tired to continue.  At first, the kid's brother came on the court, wanting to play until the kid's dad came over and picked up his son, telling Rafa that it was over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;The most stunning thing about the dream was the soft, red light.  It was so amazing how everything in the bull ring took on that tinge of red.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-1163731158334180603?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/5r_sjmPT72c/french-dreams.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/french-dreams.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-3799085352761388970</guid><pubDate>Mon, 29 Dec 2008 06:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-28T22:12:34.601-08:00</atom:updated><title>Slipping</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I can't make it.  I feel like screaming.  I feel like throwing a tantrum.  Don't make me go back!  Don't make me go back!  There's too much to do, too much to see.  I don't want to go back to that little box.  The hours are slipping away.  When the days seemed plentiful, things were fine, I didn't seem to mind, but now that my time is numbered I feel things slipping through my fingers.  It's out of my control.  My days are numbered.  I can see myself pacing like a cat behind bars, tense and unpredictable.  My brain searches for a way out, but there isn't any.  I look out my window at the darkness and in my mind I actually think "I've experienced my last sunset."  I don't know why things seem so final, like there's no other time but now.  R &amp;amp; H know something's up and they're trying to comfort me.  They are telling me it will be fine.  I want to believe them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Endure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-3799085352761388970?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/efJ2WzC8GYc/slipping.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/slipping.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-1346636357813251790</guid><pubDate>Sun, 28 Dec 2008 06:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-27T22:54:13.256-08:00</atom:updated><title>Just a little bit longer</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I'm so thankful that time has gone by so slowly.  Usually with breaks in work, I blink and they're over, but this one has seemed to have lasted.  The days seem longer.  Maybe it's because all I'm doing is reading and a few activities here and there.  I don't know, but I know I needed this.  I needed a few days to clear out the brush so it doesn't catch fire when the winds start blowing again.  Now that Monday is nearing, it's a little stressful thinking about going back to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;.  But I think I can survive.  I think I can make it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-1346636357813251790?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/Ms9ZLbcmadU/just-little-bit-longer.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/just-little-bit-longer.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-1727240349395088510</guid><pubDate>Sat, 27 Dec 2008 04:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-26T21:04:10.480-08:00</atom:updated><title>Carnage</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;After playing tennis with DW, I was dressed and ready and knew if I took a nap or waited too long, I wouldn't be able to leave the apartment for the rest of the day.  I knew I had to push through and do what was needed.  It was "Twilight" that made me do it.  I had to venture out.  I was reading the second book way too quickly and realizing that I had to have the third ready in case I finished sooner rather than later.  I ventured out... to Target.  Big mistake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;The Burbank Empire Center was a nightmare.  Cars everywhere, piling up in long lines along all the roads and the stores were full of people going in and out, lines that stretched across the store.  Part of me wondered if I went in, would I be able to get out.  To think, before I left, I was thinking it was a Friday afternoon and Christmas was officially over, how bad could it be.  The answer was horrible.  And the reason I was there, the last two books in the series, were all gone, except for copies of the ones I already had and one copy of "Eclipse."  I thought I would show them, I wouldn't wait in line for just one of the books and would just go to another Target and get both.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Well, I went to another Target and it was worse.  It was weird because at the moment I was there, it seemed like 90% of the billions of people in the store were waiting in line.  I went to check the books, they had two copies of the fourth book and none of the third.  I wasn't going to make the same mistake.  I took one of the copies, which looked like it was in better shape than the other--which meant it looked like it fed on by vampires maybe three times instead of four--and waited in a shorter line in the back of the store.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;It wasn't so bad.  I had my iPod and try to focus on how funny it was that seemingly everyone was out of their house and shopping at the exact same time and what a mess everything was.  I saw a lady muscling through the line and making loud comments about "Rude people on Christmas."  I made it through and got in my car and drove for closer to home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;The drive was scary.  Everyone was in a hurry and making crazy choices on the road.  I tried not to get caught up in it.  I listened to my radio and took deep breaths.  I finally made it to Borders or Barnes and Nobel.  I never know what Bookstar in Studio City really is and although they were out of the softcover of "Eclipse," they had plenty of the hardcover.  Fine.  I took it, I bought it.  I picked up some milk at Vons and went to lock myself indoors.  I would prefer to stay indoors reading the rest of the weekend, but I don't think I can get away with it.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I just hope next time I venture outside, it isn't anywhere near the madness of what it was today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-1727240349395088510?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/n-cJVhoTesI/carnage.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/carnage.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-1073654933395998034</guid><pubDate>Fri, 26 Dec 2008 19:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-26T11:35:06.428-08:00</atom:updated><title>You Can't Say That I Am Not Your "Friend"</title><description>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ffccff;"&gt;Which is it?  Do you want to know everything or do you want to stay out of it?  You can't have both.  You need to pick a side and stay there.  There was a time, not long ago, when you said how much you hated it when people who called themselves "friends" would omit information or not tell you the whole story.  So I have tried my best, to fill you in on everything that I have found out...or overheard...or been told (even in confidence).  I have tried to be what you describe as a "friend".  But, you have pulled away.  Maybe it is for your own protection, because it is all too much for you to take in.  Maybe you are just afraid of getting hurt...again.  I thought we were in this together?  There was a time when I was fighting for myself, clawing my way to the top, and you were upset that I wasn't sharing the whole story.  So I looked inside and I decided what was more important...and I chose you.  I chose you.  But things have changed between us.   So from now on, you can't be mad at me if I hear some information and I choose not to tell you.  You can't be mad if I fight for something and choose to leave you behind.  You can't say that I am not your "friend."  I have tried.  You are the one shutting me out and choosing not to tell me the whole story.  You are the one omitting information.  If you were my "friend" you would talk to me about your feelings and tell me if there was something you needed from me...I am not a mind reader.  "Friends" share their truth, even if it is not easy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-1073654933395998034?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/E2Uow85zIXw/you-cant-say-that-i-am-not-your-friend.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/you-cant-say-that-i-am-not-your-friend.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-4884048579623885808</guid><pubDate>Fri, 26 Dec 2008 06:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-25T22:34:11.752-08:00</atom:updated><title>False Alarm</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Thank goodness everything is okay.  I'm watching firetrucks parked in the middle of the street right outside my apartment.  I was sitting on the couch, engrossed in "New Moon" and Bella and Edward's doomed love affair when I heard the ringing.  It sounded far away, so I really didn't pay much attention to it.  Suddenly, the firetrucks were here, lights flashing, horns blaring, and firemen walking to the building next to mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I got a weird panic feeling, like, "What do I do?"  "Where are the cat carriers?"  "Where do we go?"  "What should I bring?"  "How much time do I have?"  "Are all the hotels full?"  "Shouldn't I be wearing more than just my underwear?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;They're leaving now and I'm glad I don't have to deal with any horrible reality that might have happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Mabye, on this Baby Jesus Birthday, I'm being reminded that it's not the things that matter, it's the cats.  It's all about the cats.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-4884048579623885808?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/1LpNqamRN8o/false-alarm.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/false-alarm.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-5580576348650123788</guid><pubDate>Thu, 25 Dec 2008 07:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-24T23:11:22.510-08:00</atom:updated><title>Some Secrets Should Never Be Spoken</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I usually want to know everything about everyone.  I've always had a natural curiosity about people's stories and where they come from and what they've done.  But lately I've been realizing that there are things I don't want to know.  It's one thing when I'm prying for information but it's another when the information is just handed over on a platter with no warning.  There are some things that should be left unspoken.  There are some things that damage my brain and stay dormant inside only to flare up at the most unexpected moments.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I was at church tonight.  It was a Christmas service and my brain was partially on fire.  I couldn't concentrate, there were all these things going through my head.  It felt like one of those moments where you grab your hair with your hands and shout out loud because you just can't take it anymore.  Luckily, I kept myself together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;It certainly doesn't feel like Christmas Eve tonight.  With the rain falling and the sudden onslaught of things to deal with at work.  And my brain on fire.  Thank goodness I have a couple days to pull it together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-5580576348650123788?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/_tnqhDXyevc/some-secrets-should-never-be-spoken.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/some-secrets-should-never-be-spoken.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-4775245327410214083</guid><pubDate>Wed, 24 Dec 2008 01:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-23T17:28:13.189-08:00</atom:updated><title>Robot Sent Down</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Sometimes I'm at a loss when it comes to human interactions.  I feel like a robot or a space alien sent down to study behavior without knowing exactly what's going on.  My mind ends up like a scratched record, repeating the same lines over and over with no payoff.  When I see certain people together, the record starts skipping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;For me, connecting with someone isn't something that happens often.  It's pretty rare, and I find that when people are together in any kind of relationship it's usually easy to spot why:  romance, work, friendship, common interests, sexual attraction, stuff like that.  I do realize that I'm the last person to be trying to dissect relationships.  Maybe the weird thing is not being able to connect with people that often, and the normal thing is just forging connections out of whatever is available.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Still, it brings me back to certain people.  I know things about these people, not deep things but patterns and small histories, some facts and stuff.  I think about certain combinations of people and become mystified.  I journey somewhere in my mind where I imagine conversations, interactions, exchanges.  My mind just can't comprehend what's going on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I think I'm giving myself a headache.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-4775245327410214083?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/-auoBv6yIJo/robot-sent-down.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/robot-sent-down.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-45067056402437081</guid><pubDate>Tue, 23 Dec 2008 01:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-22T17:10:43.073-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">work</category><title>The Calm After the Storm</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I'm expecting chaos.  It must be around the corner.  Things are going too smoothly.  There should be bumps, there should be setbacks.  But I don't want them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Today I drove B to the airport at 4:15AM.  It was raining and I made it back home in time to sleep for a little bit before work.  I almost overslept, but was actually early and things went well.  It was pouring rain again as I drove to work.  I really need new windshield wipers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Now I wait for tomorrow, the big day to see how things are going.  I'm nervous.  I want things to continue going smoothly.  I don't want to even think about things going not smoothly because I don't want that to even be an option.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I guess I'll know what happens when it happens, but for now I'm just going to enjoy the peace and calm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-45067056402437081?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/pV9cboQ1zv4/calm-after-storm.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/calm-after-storm.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-3233698123008699017</guid><pubDate>Mon, 22 Dec 2008 07:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-21T23:44:10.018-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">tennis</category><title>Returns</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;B and I went to play tennis for the first time in a while.  Surprisingly, I hadn't missed playing that much.  I think it was all the pressure from league and the tournaments and I was just happy to not think about it for a while.  I've still been watching tons of it on TV.  The Tennis Channel is playing all the best matches of the year and it's hard not to get caught up again in Rafael Nadal's triumph over Roger Federer in the Wimbledon Championships.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I was shocked when B and me first started hitting today.  Things went well.  I was hitting the ball better than I have in a long time and it felt really good to play.  The ease of playing didn't last the whole time we were there and I found myself struggling as the day went on, but hitting well made me realize how much I love playing when all the nerves and pressure and voices in my head aren't involved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I want to remember how it felt in those first minutes of playing.  I want to always play like that--with freedom, with a sense of fun, with a sense of enjoyment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-3233698123008699017?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/DtLXftO8zMM/returns.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/returns.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-2814038280037432524</guid><pubDate>Sun, 21 Dec 2008 05:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-20T21:28:08.497-08:00</atom:updated><title>I Saw Him</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;B and I were in the car on the 101 near the 101/170 split.  I looked over and there he was.  It was some beat up blue car.  We were staying on the 101 while he was going on the 170.  It was Santa Claus and he looked happy in the front seat on the way to wherever he was going.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-2814038280037432524?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/Ey7fBDet-pY/i-saw-him.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-saw-him.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-8821372278279300351</guid><pubDate>Sat, 20 Dec 2008 06:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-19T22:34:15.337-08:00</atom:updated><title>My New Obsessions</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;1.  "Twilight"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I made B go with me last Saturday to the first showing.  I wasn't expecting much and there were tons of movies I wanted to see, but that's the one I chose.  I got our tickets and woke B up from his slumber to go.  The movie had massive flaws, but it also has a crazy, romantic spirit that I couldn't resist.  I love doomed romance and obsessive love.  Someone told me a long time ago that I had the taste of a 14 year old girl.  I guess I still do.  I went out and bought the first two books.  It's not Harry Potter, but it will do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;2.  Jenny Lewis &amp;amp; Rilo Kiley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;It started out slowly.  A while ago, JG gave me a copy of "Under the Blacklight."  Then I read an article comparing Rilo Kiley to Fleetwood Mac.  Then I was buying more of their CDs.  Then I saw Rilo Kiley in concert at the Greek and started listening to them more.  Then "Acid Tongue" got released and me and B went to see Jenny Lewis at the Orpheum.  It's been most all I've been listening to ever since.  Songs I didn't think I liked, I started liking.  It's very similiar to my love for Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac.  I like the non-Stevie Fleetwood songs, but her songs are the ones I love the most.  I like the non-Jenny Rilo songs, but her songs are the ones I love the most.  Current favorites "A Man/Me/Then Jim," "Does He Love You," "I Never," "Pictures of Success," "The Big Guns," "Rise Up With Fists," "Silver Lining," "Close Call," "Under the Blacklight," "The Next Messiah," "Godspeed," and many more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;3.  The Shadow Side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I've been looking for the darkess in people.  It's there in everyone, but with some people it's more obvious in others.  I like seeing how it manifests itself from person to person, how it varies.  I like that some people shy away from it, while others embrace it, while others try to make it more than what it is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;4.  Vegetable Soup&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;When B and I go out and it's on the menu, I order it.  So far, the big bowl at California Chicken Cafe has been the  most impressive.  I made my own batch from scratch and it's been hitting the spot on these cold nights.  I could never figure out the base broth, I thought it had tons of spices in it, but when B's mom came, she made it and it was amazing.  She just used canned whole, peeled tomatoes and added vegetables.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;5.  Mao Asada &amp;amp; Johnny Weir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;They are pretty much the reasons I started ice skating.  I was shocked when Miss ML ripped into Johnny when I said I wanted to be like him in class.  But to me there are none better.  They are both so light on the ice, they're fluid and beautiful and amazing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;6.  Lindsay Davenport&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I'm so mad at how she's messed with me this past year.  She has a baby, retires, comes back, plays, stops playing, plays well, plays badly, enters the Australian Open, announces she's pregnant and withdraws.  Ugh.  But I will always love how she hits the ball.  No one else hits like that.  And unlike Mary Pierce and Justine Henin, it's not like what's she's done is unforgiveable.  I will never forgive Justine for retiring in the 2nd set against Amelie Mauresmo in the Australian Open Final.  And I will never forgive Mary for taking a 16 minute time out against Elena Dementieva in the US Open Semi-finals.  But with Lindsay I'm just selfish and love her.  I still hope she comes back some day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;7.  Reading in the bathtub&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I'm usually more about listening to music in the bathtub, but with the weather like it is, I like just getting a book or magazine and taking my time.  All the pages end up getting crinkled and wet, but I can't help myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-8821372278279300351?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/PYuTMJMe9IM/my-new-obsessions.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-new-obsessions.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-8036422693890177031</guid><pubDate>Fri, 19 Dec 2008 06:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-18T22:58:06.605-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">bike riding</category><title>For a moment, the world makes sense</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Preface:  Usually I ignore people trying to get my attention while I'm riding my bike.  Most times they're yelling at me, throwing ice at me, trying to swerve into me.  I just try to avoid everyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Today on the way home I was riding in the cold, in the dark.  I was in a rush to get home because me and B were going over to a friend's for dinner.  On the bike path there was this guy who yelled out to me and even over my iPod I heard him and put on the brakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;"What street is that?" he said pointing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;"Van Nuys," I told him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;"Excellent.  Thank you very much," he said and continued on his way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;"No problem."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I ruminated on the exchange for the whole ride back.  I kept thinking that life should always be that way.  It should always involve people communicating and being polite and respectful and making an effort and appreciating one another.  There was something beautiful in those few seconds.  I don't know why it touched me like it did, but I was happy to be part of that moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-8036422693890177031?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/zD6Z0my2A9U/for-moment-world-makes-sense.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/for-moment-world-makes-sense.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-479742039597953932</guid><pubDate>Thu, 18 Dec 2008 04:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-17T20:18:11.286-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">dreams</category><title>In Drag in NY</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Last night I had a dream that I was walking around in New York.  I ran into GP, who was dressed in drag.  I didn't think anything was weird about it and he seemed perfectly fine.  The strange thing was, it wasn't just drag.  It was a full make up with prosthetics and fancy clothes.  He even had a fake spray tan.  His wig was long and blond.  It didn't even look like him, but I knew it was him.  We stopped and talked about the mail he had to deliver and we went on our ways.  He seemed really happy and I was just glad that he was enjoying himself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-479742039597953932?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/bLKfkcHFbFg/in-drag-in-ny.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/in-drag-in-ny.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-5408476023983509169</guid><pubDate>Wed, 17 Dec 2008 06:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-16T22:20:46.225-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">gym</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">work</category><title>Part of the Day</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I've been so focused at work lately.  It's like I'm walking a tight rope and if I look down, I'll go falling into some abyss.  There are parts of me that are really worried and questioning and others that are excited.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;My sister called and left me a voicemail.  With the wind chill, it's 17 degrees below and they are expecting even more snow on the ground in Milwaukee.  It makes me scared to mention the cold here, but for here, it is cold.  I'm cold.  It's hard to get out from under the blankets in the morning.  (Although when B leaves earlier than me, it is easier to get out of bed.)&lt;br /&gt;It's even harder to convince myself that I should ride my bike to work.  Luckily, it's also been raining, so I've been forced to drive, and I gladly drive in my bare feet with the heater on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Today at the gym, Terry was working with his new big fish.  It was nice seeing him busy and away from me.  I was still there when he finished and got a little nervous as he passed by, but nothing came of it.  He just walked on by without a word.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Some of the new kids were talking about one of their friends today.  BFH called my attention to what they were saying.  They were commenting on how old their friend was.  Now how old, but saying he was old.  He's 23.  I was shocked, sad, scared, and tried to avoid thinking about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-5408476023983509169?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/3sVGxP2PcE4/part-of-day.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/part-of-day.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-8565157515376523672</guid><pubDate>Tue, 16 Dec 2008 04:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-15T21:11:51.716-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">work</category><title>Atonement</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Today is the day.  It starts now.  It's my chance to do unto others as I would have them do unto me.  Four new people started work today.  It's hard to believe that a little over a year ago, I was one of them.  Except these new kids seem eager and on the ball.  My transition into my day job wasn't easy.  For months after my job started, I was kicking and screaming internally.  I was moody and easy to irritate.  I was a little lost as to what to do, but didn't want to ask questions.  I'm sure I wasn't easy to work with, but there were still things that went on around me that I didn't appreciate.  I guess now is my chance to be there, to answer questions, to not be in such a bad mood about it.  I realize there were a lot of good things about the time I had and I want to make sure those good things continue.  And now that I know the bad things, I can try to steer clear of them.  That's the true test.  Instead of continuing to do things just because they're done that way, it's time to make things right that weren't right before.  It's time to let freedom ring.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;The last couple days at work have been like a mirror.  I've seen my bad behavior reflected back at me and it's time to deal with it.  It's gross having to admit my faults and try to steer clear of being the ultimate hypocrite, but it's a lesson I need to learn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-8565157515376523672?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/tKLE08AT_30/atonement.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/atonement.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-9906556020983894</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 Dec 2008 04:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-14T20:54:46.816-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">work</category><title>Old is New</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Back in the day I used to get a lot of people commenting on how I looked, usually in reference to me looking like someone.  It was sometimes someone specific, but most times it was just "someone."  As in, "You look like someone," but the person saying it could never think of who.  Recently those comments just seemed to have stopped, but this weekend people were commenting again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Someone said I looked like I should be on reality TV and not working on it.  Another one said she thought she worked with me.  Maybe it's my hair, maybe it's the holidays, maybe it's leaving the house and running into new people.  The weekend culminated in someone apologizing for not listening to what I was saying because she was staring at my eyes.  I just find it strange going forever without any comments and then they all come at once.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;It reminds me of how I started working at my current job.  MM turned in my resume to Human Resources along with a link to some essay I wrote about how within a few weeks one year a bunch of random people told me I looked like Joey McIntyre.  AA, the head of Human Resources at the time, was a big fan of New Kids on the Block and thought it was really funny.  My interview pretty much consisted of talking about Joey and I started work a few days later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I went to a Vedic Astrologer a few years ago and he explained that our lives are cyclical, that certain patters emerged over years and years:  renewals, setbacks, discoveries.  I wonder if something now is relating to something then.  It does seem like there are things happening that feel like a new start.  If renewal is coming, I hope I've learned a few lessons and don't get stuck in a rut again because I'm scared of change.  There are some things that aren't worth repeating.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-9906556020983894?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/nlkxuJYh1eM/old-is-new.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/old-is-new.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-4759971223333807208</guid><pubDate>Sat, 13 Dec 2008 17:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-13T09:58:38.326-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">dreams</category><title>Last Night's Dreams Starring BFH &amp; B</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I had a dream that A and me went with BFH and his girlfriend to go get a tattoo.  She had a very specific one in mind and sat down in the chair as we watched the tattoo guy start.  He started drawing lines that were roots around her wrist.  She wanted a tree there.  BFH warned us that it wouldn't be pretty and his girlfriend, M, started to squirm.  A and I wanted the tattoo guy to stop but BFH assured us that she always responded to getting tattoos like this and it was no big deal.  Anyway, she ended up fainting and the tattoo guy kept on creating a tree around her wrist.  BFH stayed with her while A and me went to wait out in the lobby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Then later, I dreamed I was visiting my sister.  A lot of people were there, including B and NW from work.  B got upset that it was so crowded and by a comment that mom made, so he left and walked in the snow to a bus stop.  I ran out to follow him and waited in the cold and the snow with him until the bus came.  Suddenly, there was a whole crowd at the bus stop and a yellow school bus pulled up.  I charged to the front to make sure we would actually get on because I didn't want to spend more time waiting in the snow.  I got on and the inside of the school bus was amazingly big and seated everyone with room left over.  We were on our way and ended up at the mall, which thankfully wasn't that crowded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-4759971223333807208?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/fmA_x77Irpk/last-nights-dreams-starring-bfh-b.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/last-nights-dreams-starring-bfh-b.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715890853101343372.post-1788700368007707745</guid><pubDate>Sat, 13 Dec 2008 07:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-12T23:59:12.797-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">gym</category><title>Terry Hooks a Very Big Fish</title><description>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Yes, Terry was there again today.  He looked kind of dismayed.  There were a lot of people around, but he was just sitting on one of the benches.  I prayed he'd stay away from me.  And he did.  Seems he started randomly talking to a guy who looked about 6'4 and they had a long conversation.  I wondered if Terry was giving the tall guy the hard sell, but whatever he said seemed to work.  Terry stood up and patted the guy on the back and they walked downstairs together.  Terry seemed so happy.  I guess Christmas came early for him.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3715890853101343372-1788700368007707745?l=thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThrivingOleanders/~3/e731PwFtePs/terry-hooks-very-big-fish.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (K &amp;amp;  A)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://thrivingoleanders.blogspot.com/2008/12/terry-hooks-very-big-fish.html</feedburner:origLink></item></channel></rss>

