<?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-7419657272944798929</id><updated>2024-11-01T04:30:06.707-07:00</updated><category term="life"/><category term="friends"/><category term="death penalty"/><category term="friendship"/><category term="poems"/><category term="murder"/><category term="Brett Hartmann"/><category term="innocence"/><category term="love"/><category term="Jennifer Schipsi"/><category term="Juan Melendez"/><category term="death row"/><category term="execution"/><category term="goals"/><category term="life without parole"/><category term="pain"/><category term="sentencing"/><category term="soul"/><category term="5 minutes"/><category term="Anthony Graves"/><category term="Chuck Gillingham"/><category term="Cristian Fernandez"/><category term="David Cena"/><category term="Innocent"/><category term="Jeremy sheets"/><category term="Jim Schipsi"/><category term="Joe D&#39;ambrosio"/><category term="My paintings"/><category term="Paul Bulos Zumot"/><category term="Paul Zumot"/><category term="Susan Smith"/><category term="abstract"/><category term="abuse"/><category term="adult"/><category term="answers"/><category term="arson"/><category term="art"/><category term="awkward"/><category term="beauty"/><category term="birthday"/><category term="breathing"/><category term="broken"/><category term="bucket list"/><category term="capital punishment"/><category term="card"/><category term="choices"/><category term="clemency board"/><category term="comfort zonehip"/><category term="crossroads"/><category term="death"/><category term="die"/><category term="difficult"/><category term="envelopes of hope"/><category term="executed"/><category term="exoneree"/><category term="fair trial"/><category term="family"/><category term="flush"/><category term="forest"/><category term="future"/><category term="grieve"/><category term="guilty"/><category term="heart"/><category term="hell"/><category term="job"/><category term="language"/><category term="life sentence"/><category term="listen"/><category term="mask"/><category term="memories"/><category term="mirror"/><category term="mom"/><category term="neighbours"/><category term="new year"/><category term="nude"/><category term="past"/><category term="pieces. heart"/><category term="present"/><category term="quotes"/><category term="random thoughts"/><category term="regrets"/><category term="resolutions"/><category term="safe"/><category term="sarcasm"/><category term="secret"/><category term="sentenced"/><category term="she-devil"/><category term="silence"/><category term="speak"/><category term="talk"/><category term="talking shit"/><category term="tears"/><category term="the stars"/><category term="thoughts"/><category term="trust"/><category term="truth"/><category term="unspoken words"/><category term="voices in my head"/><category term="wall"/><category term="what if"/><category term="work"/><title type='text'>Nadia&#39;s world</title><subtitle type='html'>The crazy world I created, the person I am, the life I live, the people I meet, the people I love and the people I lost. Hope, passion, sarcasm, humor, pain and love; this is my life.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-7589341453586300184</id><published>2012-08-16T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-17T02:58:55.098-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="broken"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pieces. heart"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poems"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="safe"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="trust"/><title type='text'>The pieces of my heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
I am not afraid to die, I&#39;m just scared you&#39;ll break my heart.&amp;nbsp;I am not afraid of pain, I&#39;m just scared you&#39;ll leave me hurt.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Letting down my guard, letting go completely is all but easy. It&#39;s hard to feel trust, when time after time people show that honesty is just a fairytale. A heart can only be broken in so many pieces. After a while there is nothing left to break, but also nothing left to fix.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I show you all the pieces of my heart, not for you to fix it, but to take all those pieces and accept each broken piece of my heart. I am giving you all those pieces to keep them safe, not to smash them to the ground until the pieces are too small for your love to see them. I am asking you to cherish all the pieces and show me that even a broken heart is worth loving.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Even if I&#39;m scared, even if my heart could break beyond fixing ever again, I will give you all the pieces of my heart and trust that you will keep them safe. All you have to do is open your hands and accept them.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/7589341453586300184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/7589341453586300184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/7589341453586300184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/7589341453586300184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-pieces-of-my-heart.html' title='The pieces of my heart'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-6128050973672158830</id><published>2012-08-02T15:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-11T07:08:42.125-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="breathing"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="heart"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pain"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poems"/><title type='text'>I&#39;m still breathing</title><content type='html'>I have died so many deaths.&lt;br /&gt;
I have choked in my own tears while mourning for my soul.&lt;br /&gt;
I broke my heart while mourning for my love.&lt;br /&gt;
I bled dry while cutting the pain out of my heart.&lt;br /&gt;
I have died over and over again.&lt;br /&gt;
But still there must be some life left in me.&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m still breathing.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/6128050973672158830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/6128050973672158830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6128050973672158830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6128050973672158830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2012/08/im-still-breathing_9142.html' title='I&#39;m still breathing'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-453558613153746902</id><published>2012-08-02T15:35:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-11T07:09:19.324-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="die"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="difficult"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poems"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="truth"/><title type='text'>My truth</title><content type='html'>I&#39;m not difficult, I&#39;m just not easy.  Big difference. You don&#39;t need to understand me. I don&#39;t understand me either. Believe me I tried. It&#39;s such a waste of time.  Disagree with me. Have a different opinion. I love a good discussion. See what I see, but see it differently. My truth doesn&#39;t have to be your truth. So don&#39;t expect your truth to be mine either.  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If life would be simple, it wouldn&#39;t be that difficult. Love is only beautiful when it&#39;s fucking hard.&lt;br /&gt;
Life sucks. And then you die.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My truth.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/453558613153746902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/453558613153746902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/453558613153746902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/453558613153746902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2012/08/my-truth.html' title='My truth'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-2768670153325062931</id><published>2011-11-02T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T12:13:07.974-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beauty"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="flush"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="speak"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="talking shit"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="thoughts"/><title type='text'>Talking shit</title><content type='html'>Don&#39;t speak. Just let me clear my thoughts before you say something. Ok I am ready. Go ahead.&lt;br /&gt;
Too bad. You&#39;re still talking shit. And it smells bad. My thoughts are clouded again. Or should I say crowded?&lt;br /&gt;
Shit seems to stick. More than beauty. I keep repeating it in my mind. Words can have such an impact. I can still hear you say it in my mind. After I am done thinking, you have said it a million times.&lt;br /&gt;
Silence can be so beautiful, especially when it is coming from you. So peaceful. So quiet.&lt;br /&gt;
Sadly it won&#39;t take long. There you go blabbing again. It is not a gift to separate the shit from the beauty. It is a gift to separate it in your thoughts. Some people will always talk shit. Don&#39;t waste your energy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Next time someone talks shit... Just flush!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/2768670153325062931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/2768670153325062931' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/2768670153325062931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/2768670153325062931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/11/talking-shit.html' title='Talking shit'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-6007917851630461947</id><published>2011-11-02T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-19T05:36:16.247-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="card"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="envelopes of hope"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="executed"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="execution"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="the stars"/><title type='text'>The stars will be out soon</title><content type='html'>I send cards to death row inmates whom have received an execution date. It is part of &amp;nbsp;the great work Envelopes of Hope does.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wondered how I would feel days away from my execution. I would feel so alone. So when I got the name and address of the man that would be soon get executed, I wrote: &quot;I hope you will be able to see the sky at night, because every star represents someone thinking of you. Remember this when you look at the stars. You are not alone.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just a few days after he was executed I received a letter from him. I didn&#39;t open the envelope right away. I just held it. It felt strange to have a letter in my hands from someone who isn&#39;t on this earth anymore. He was the 453th man executed in the State of Texas.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At the beginning of the letter he seemed to be in good spirits. He made jokes and sounded upbeat. I wondered what was going through his mind. Did he understand what I meant with my words? Did he know he wasn&#39;t alone? I got my answer at the end of his letter.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He wrote: &quot;It&#39;s getting dark. The stars will be out soon.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I cried.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdugboO9YZ_VSjhpkwnE8Ks-IlV2vqBC6ZrBYI9VAVVFTVjz0WYVSBJXP32JfPG6xzZbECLQtHvFT3U5I3qpCBguX9OGCVuxT6VDS3m3k4l_TKt3hZNM5pvAKd8UJ8Tjj5l0t-6hUrI6OV/s1600/38.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;250&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdugboO9YZ_VSjhpkwnE8Ks-IlV2vqBC6ZrBYI9VAVVFTVjz0WYVSBJXP32JfPG6xzZbECLQtHvFT3U5I3qpCBguX9OGCVuxT6VDS3m3k4l_TKt3hZNM5pvAKd8UJ8Tjj5l0t-6hUrI6OV/s320/38.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/6007917851630461947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/6007917851630461947' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6007917851630461947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6007917851630461947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/11/stars-will-be-out-soon.html' title='The stars will be out soon'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdugboO9YZ_VSjhpkwnE8Ks-IlV2vqBC6ZrBYI9VAVVFTVjz0WYVSBJXP32JfPG6xzZbECLQtHvFT3U5I3qpCBguX9OGCVuxT6VDS3m3k4l_TKt3hZNM5pvAKd8UJ8Tjj5l0t-6hUrI6OV/s72-c/38.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-7890426645474290194</id><published>2011-11-02T08:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-17T12:17:12.266-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="arson"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Chuck Gillingham"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="David Cena"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jennifer Schipsi"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jim Schipsi"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="murder"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Paul Bulos Zumot"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sentenced"/><title type='text'>I am innocent!</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
Paul Zumot was found guilty for the murder of his girlfriend Jennifer Schipsi. There was no smoking gun, no physical evidence, no confession, no videotape proving his guilt. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There were videotapes showing he had an alibi at the time of the murder and arson, he was miles away from the crimescene. But of course the prosecution could not use that to convict him.&lt;br /&gt;
A restraining order against two men just a week before her murder, because Jennifer feared for her and Paul&#39;s life. But of course the prosecution could not use that to convict him.&lt;br /&gt;
Although there was a taped phonecall of Jennifer complaining about Paul, there was also a tape of Jennifer talking about how she was sexually abused by her own father. Maybe that&#39;s why Paul called Jim Schipsi a monster at his sentencing trial? &amp;nbsp;But of course the prosecution could not use that to convict him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What remained was circumstancial evidence. So called heated text messages exchanged between Paul and Jennifer was supposed to show Paul was emotionally and physical abusive towards Jennifer. I say so called, because Jennifer was the one ranting on and on and Paul was just trying to calm her down. But even if he did, &amp;nbsp;who hasn&#39;t sent an angry text message to a girlfriend before? Better think again. A few heated text messages could get you convicted.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
On October 29 Paul Zumot was sentenced to 25 years to life for the murder of Jennifer Schipsi and an additional 8 years for arson. He didn&#39;t receive life without parole, but still it is 33 years too long because he did not do the crime. At his sentencing Paul spoke out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;To the judge: &quot; You are corrupt. You always sided with the DA and you abused your power.&quot;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;To Sunseri: &quot;Shame on you. How do you sleep at night? You know you framed me. I am an innocent man!&quot;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;To Maloney: &quot;You all are liars, corrupt. I am innocent. I did not commit any crime. The truth will come out and I will be free.&quot;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Of course prosecutor Chuck Gillingham twisted Paul&#39;s outburst to his own advantage:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&quot;That was a unique experience, but I&#39;m not altogether surprised that he would react that way. That was all gamesmanship-to have him be in charge. But he didn&#39;t have the control, the judge did.&quot;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Paul&#39;s outburst was what it was; An innocent man crying out for justice.&lt;br /&gt;
Justice hasn&#39;t been served. The fight continues.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
www.paulzumot.com&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #333333;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 20px;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #333333;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 20px;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJIt8_wUNqTWuvXDhN4c4UGa0L2xsd3AJTtBVA6GZdolCZnjWHwyXtcb5bVqRtNd7gFhh4N20_d2WiyhX9DX_Mfpc1OtdgDpKpZplYNsFe50VAQNLz-u9SaZSutpZba2qkcDq1Uyq5jXB/s1600/0424081934a.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJIt8_wUNqTWuvXDhN4c4UGa0L2xsd3AJTtBVA6GZdolCZnjWHwyXtcb5bVqRtNd7gFhh4N20_d2WiyhX9DX_Mfpc1OtdgDpKpZplYNsFe50VAQNLz-u9SaZSutpZba2qkcDq1Uyq5jXB/s320/0424081934a.jpg&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #333333;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 20px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/7890426645474290194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/7890426645474290194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/7890426645474290194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/7890426645474290194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-am-innocent.html' title='I am innocent!'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJIt8_wUNqTWuvXDhN4c4UGa0L2xsd3AJTtBVA6GZdolCZnjWHwyXtcb5bVqRtNd7gFhh4N20_d2WiyhX9DX_Mfpc1OtdgDpKpZplYNsFe50VAQNLz-u9SaZSutpZba2qkcDq1Uyq5jXB/s72-c/0424081934a.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-4028912862606319553</id><published>2011-10-24T13:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-19T05:40:51.719-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Anthony Graves"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death penalty"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="guilty"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jeremy sheets"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Joe D&#39;ambrosio"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Juan Melendez"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life without parole"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="murder"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Susan Smith"/><title type='text'>More than meets the eye</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
At quite a young age I was confronted with a death in the family. At this very first funeral I didn&#39;t know how to act. As I stood next to my parents, I noticed my father wasn&#39;t crying. He didn&#39;t seem to be really upset. After we left the funeral, he was making jokes in the car. I asked my father why he wasn&#39;t upset. He asked me:&quot;Why do you think I&#39;m not upset?&quot;I answered him that most people were crying at the funeral and he wasn&#39;t. He replied by asking me:&quot; So in order to be upset, you have to cry?&quot; I hesitated for a moment and then answered:&quot; I guess not, I just thought because everyone was crying...&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
My father explained to me that just because he hadn&#39;t cried, it didn&#39;t mean he wasn&#39;t upset. &quot;There is no wrong in how people react to a shocking event. You can&#39;t always see on the outside, how someone feels on the inside.&quot; I never forgot his words. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Throughout the years I have become a person that doesn&#39;t show much emotion. I can act tough, but that doesn&#39;t mean things don&#39;t effect me. Sometimes there is more than meets the eye. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have been writing with men on death row and life without parole for quite some years now. I have also been always interested in criminal cases and have read many the past few years. I have read trial transcripts, police reports, blogs and stories. In some cases the defendant was innocent and in some he was not. What struck me most that in the judicial system in the States the jury sometimes convicts on appearance and behavior instead of mere facts. In a way this is understandable.  But I dont think it is right. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Some of the reasons jury members gave for finding someone guilty: &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;He seemed indifferent. He didn&#39;t look innocent. He didn&#39;t show remorse. It was just crocodile tears. He gave me the creeps. He looked like a monster. He had dark, evil eyes. He didn&#39;t cry. He seemed so cold. He was making jokes with his attorney. He looked away when they showed the crime scene photos. He just stared at the crime scene pictures. The tears weren&#39;t real. He acted guilty. He didn&#39;t seem to moarn the loss of his &#39;wife/friend/son&#39;. He was staring at the floor. He was smiling and waving at his family. He yawned. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wonder if some jury members had the same thoughts when they convicted  Anthony Graves, when they found Joe D&#39;ambrosio guilty, when they gave Juan Melendez the death penalty or when they sentenced Jeremy Sheets to die. After spending years on death row they were found innocent. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Susan Smith made a heartwrenching plea  to he alledged kidnappers of her two children at a press conference. She cried and trembled when she told the media how much she loved her children. Her husband had to hold her so she wouldn&#39;t collapse. A few months later she herself was arrested for the murder of her children and later on also confessed to the crime. She had fooled almost everyone. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
On both sides this shows there is more than meets the eye. Every person is unique and every person responds in their own unique way. Do I get judged by how I react to certain events in my life? Of course. But luckily my life doesn&#39;t depend on it. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Let&#39;s just stick with the facts. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/4028912862606319553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/4028912862606319553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/4028912862606319553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/4028912862606319553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/10/more-than-meets-eye.html' title='More than meets the eye'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-5780644272212975932</id><published>2011-10-23T08:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-19T05:49:30.521-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="birthday"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="new year"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="regrets"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="resolutions"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tears"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="what if"/><title type='text'>What if?</title><content type='html'>I don&#39;t do New Year resolutions. I do birthday regrets. &lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s that time of year again. In a few days I will turn 35. Regrets.&lt;br /&gt;
Regrets. Every tear rolling down my face is a regret. As the tears keep coming, I lose count. Too many regrets.&lt;br /&gt;
Some people like to say; Don&#39;t do anything you might regret later. As far as I am concerned, that&#39;s a load of crap. The biggest regret is the &#39;what if&#39; regret. Regrets about all the things you could have done, but never did. &lt;br /&gt;
Today I let my thoughts wander off to all the &#39;what if&#39;s&#39; in my life, as it is tradition around my birthday. I hope next year there will be less tears. Less regrets. &lt;br /&gt;
But now as the tears keep falling, I ask myself over and over again; What if? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/5780644272212975932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/5780644272212975932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/5780644272212975932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/5780644272212975932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/10/what-if.html' title='What if?'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-8678165295098441101</id><published>2011-10-15T12:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-18T07:13:19.357-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="abuse"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="adult"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Cristian Fernandez"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life without parole"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="murder"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sentencing"/><title type='text'>Cristian Fernandez, America&#39;s youngest &#39;lifer&#39; ever</title><content type='html'>Cristian Fernandez is 12 years old. He should be playing outside with his friends. He should be going to school. He should be a lot of things.&lt;br /&gt;
Instead he is in solitary confinement awaiting his trial for the murder of his two year old brother. His younger brother died of a fractured skull. Cristian allegedly had beaten him to death. He was brought to the hospital and died of his injuries two days later. &lt;br /&gt;
If he is tried as a juvenile, he will be free by the time he is 21. If he is tried as an adult, he will be in prison for the rest of his life and will be America&#39;s youngest  &#39;lifer&#39; ever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Prosecutor Angela Corey says:&lt;i&gt;&quot;We have to protect the public from this young man&#39;.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I wonder how a 12 year old kid can be a young man all of a sudden. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Cristian his arms and ankles need to be shackled, because he is a young man now, not a 12 year old kid.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Y44IwdiFYm08XeoIwlNQ078WhdIKL9ycf-GaFZxEBWymXce9G7hV40krg4XR9S6XcDqIsw73rSDulMwfUfrNjSw0IDIGyMRW3tk1j-Hmp0iix564JNkQeTVxK6Z9FNjpl4QSZqoIFSUe/s1600/cristian.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Y44IwdiFYm08XeoIwlNQ078WhdIKL9ycf-GaFZxEBWymXce9G7hV40krg4XR9S6XcDqIsw73rSDulMwfUfrNjSw0IDIGyMRW3tk1j-Hmp0iix564JNkQeTVxK6Z9FNjpl4QSZqoIFSUe/s320/cristian.jpg&quot; width=&quot;166&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
Cristian didn&#39;t have a happy childhood. Cristian&#39;s mother was only 12 years old herself when she got him. They were both put in the foster care system when Cristian was two. From the beginning of his young life abuse was an every day occurrence. His stepfather shot himself in front of Cristian and other family members to avoid being arrested on child abuse charges.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But prosecutor Angela Corey doesn&#39;t care about that. &lt;i&gt;&quot;The fact that we indicted a 12-year-old in and of itself is a stunning event and a sad event in our prosecutorial lives that we had to do this, but it is the only legal mechanism that we can use to protect the community from this particular defendant at this point&quot;.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I wonder if she has ever heard of rehabilitation.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJS0zyw1scBOF04cbhm_PO6ZwuX2D0ZW9kKiKueW4StvSZrkzt4-oprHPWe9Yn2GhfoRwVwG0IGDA-mxLo-2ts4VMzh_Uz7zNr_zEH7_k4seJpFM1Hj1lWOz1kU_bDoddf5E8gZY_tYaz/s1600/cristian2.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJS0zyw1scBOF04cbhm_PO6ZwuX2D0ZW9kKiKueW4StvSZrkzt4-oprHPWe9Yn2GhfoRwVwG0IGDA-mxLo-2ts4VMzh_Uz7zNr_zEH7_k4seJpFM1Hj1lWOz1kU_bDoddf5E8gZY_tYaz/s320/cristian2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;195&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;i&gt;There isn&#39;t even a prison uniform small enough for him&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
His pictures are splattered all over in the media. Everyone knows Cristian. Crisitan only knows his cell 22 hours a day all alone. He is afraid of the dark, but there is no one to comfort him. He is a kid that doesn&#39;t know what is going on. He is a kid that might spend the rest of his childhood among adult and hardened prisoners. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But prosecutor Angela Corey doesn&#39;t care about that. &lt;i&gt;&quot; The public has a right to be protected from him. It&#39;s one where you go, at what point do you step in, so you prevent another murder, and that&#39;s how we felt in this case.&quot;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I wonder if she sleeps at night.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHiY5oqm2yI0G3vy0kQqd1LL6Ysea8rdIwG79jZBwM_5eXZbgFH4j_2_AhhkMNWTqrrLIGtxo4k5U9J4hVdhBoYFcxtC-Bt2KXwnRLBqykxDLdnFTm2Qj9xqiIvR0DBJsuortX6yEteMbG/s1600/cristian3.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;293&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHiY5oqm2yI0G3vy0kQqd1LL6Ysea8rdIwG79jZBwM_5eXZbgFH4j_2_AhhkMNWTqrrLIGtxo4k5U9J4hVdhBoYFcxtC-Bt2KXwnRLBqykxDLdnFTm2Qj9xqiIvR0DBJsuortX6yEteMbG/s320/cristian3.jpg&quot; width=&quot;242&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;i&gt;He is just a kid.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Because the system failed Christian when he was growing up, the system is now charging him as an adult. Does that make sense? Is that fair? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Please sign the petition:&lt;br /&gt;
https://www.change.org/petitions/reverse-decision-to-try-12-yo-cristian-fernandez-as-an-adult&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/8678165295098441101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/8678165295098441101' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/8678165295098441101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/8678165295098441101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/10/cristian-fernandez-americas-youngest.html' title='Cristian Fernandez, America&#39;s youngest &#39;lifer&#39; ever'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Y44IwdiFYm08XeoIwlNQ078WhdIKL9ycf-GaFZxEBWymXce9G7hV40krg4XR9S6XcDqIsw73rSDulMwfUfrNjSw0IDIGyMRW3tk1j-Hmp0iix564JNkQeTVxK6Z9FNjpl4QSZqoIFSUe/s72-c/cristian.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-7732675644363122836</id><published>2011-10-15T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-15T11:15:31.184-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="capital punishment"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death penalty"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death row"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="exoneree"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Juan Melendez"/><title type='text'>Juan Melendez discusses injustice of capital punishment</title><content type='html'>“I hope he’s not innocent . . . I hope he’s not innocent . . . I hope he’s not innocent . . .”&lt;br /&gt;
Whenever Juan Roberto Melendez saw the lights flickering in his cell, that was the mantra he repeated over and over in his mind. After spending 6,446 days on death row in Florida for a crime he did not commit, Melendez began to tell his story all across the country. On Tuesday, Oct. 4, he gave a lecture that delivered a single, powerful message: The death of one innocent man invalidates the entire system of capital punishment.&lt;br /&gt;
“It’s all about details, education,” Melendez said in his speech. “People need to know that it does not deter crime. People need to know that it costs too much. People need to know that it’s racist. People need to know that it’s cruel and unnecessary.”&lt;br /&gt;
Melendez was brought to campus as a speaker by a joint effort between Walla Walla Community College (WWCC) Sociology Instructor Susan Palmer and Peterson Endowed Chair of Social Sciences Keith Farrington.&lt;br /&gt;
“When you have a speaker that comes to a shared event, it in some ways doubles the amount of work you need to do,” Farrington said. “Susan dealt with the large organization that handles the bureaucratic aspect.”&lt;br /&gt;
Melendez spoke at both campuses and attended classes taught by both professors.&lt;br /&gt;
“It’s important for people to be realistic about flaws in our justice system,” Palmer said. “In this case, I think it’s important for students to hear a personal story, as opposed to just a statistic. To be able to have some level of empathy, that the system in some cases might be flawed.”&lt;br /&gt;
Melendez’s approximately 17-year-long ordeal began when he was arrested for armed robbery and first-degree murder in 1984 and convicted after a week-long trial by a mostly white jury based on the testimony of two police informants who cut deals with prosecutors.&lt;br /&gt;
“No physical evidence against me,” Melendez said. “On the defense side, I had four witnesses say that the police informant was a snitch who had a grudge against me, but I had a problem—every witness on my side was from the African-American race. When a black man and a black woman testify for the defense, all of a sudden, the credibility is gone.”&lt;br /&gt;
Speaking to a crowd in Olin Hall 130 so large it threatened to violate the fire code, Melendez next described the squalid conditions he faced in prison and the friendship of other inmates who helped him survive by teaching him to read, write and speak English.&lt;br /&gt;
One of the night’s most harrowing anecdotes came when Melendez related how close he came to committing suicide, near the tenth year of his imprisonment. He began by explaining how his friends on death row would bribe “runners” from the main prison to bring them garbage bags so that they could hang themselves.&lt;br /&gt;
“I took that bag, and I made a rope, and then I put a noose in it. Then I looked at my bunk, and I looked at the rope, and I said to myself, ‘I’d better lay down and think about this a little bit more,’” he said. “I fell into a deep, deep sleep, and I start dreaming. In the dream, I’m a little kid again, doing the things I used to love. I find myself on the most beautiful beach in the world, at least to me. Every time I wanted out of there, every time suicide thoughts came to my mind, I would pray to God, ‘send me a beautiful dream.’”&lt;br /&gt;
The tale of a good friend’s death due to staff negligence offered a further glimpse into the disturbing realities of prison life.&lt;br /&gt;
“There’s a brother on the ground (from a heart attack or stroke) so we tell [the nurse], ‘He’s not breathing! He needs air!’ But telling the so-called nurse to give mouth-to-mouth to a brother on the ground—you’re wasting your time,” he said. “He died in my arms.”&lt;br /&gt;
“I wasn’t saved by the system. I was saved in spite of the system,” Melendez said of the case that finally freed him.&lt;br /&gt;
Distraught over the execution of five of her other clients, his longtime attorney handed his case over to a crack legal team, who petitioned for a change of venue based on the fact that the county judge had been Melendez’s first public defender.&lt;br /&gt;
Once moved to Tampa County, the case fell into the hands of Barbara Fletcher. After retrieving the case files, Fletcher discovered that the attorney had withheld critical evidence from the court, including a taped confession of the real killer and the corroborating testimonies of 16 witnesses.&lt;br /&gt;
Armed with this information, Fletcher wrote a 72-page opinion in which she chastised almost every official involved with the case. Her opinion led prosecutors to throw out the case against Melendez.&lt;br /&gt;
“I can honestly say I owe that brave woman my life,” Melendez said.&lt;br /&gt;
The lecture ended with a hopeful note, as Melendez described how his fellow inmates applauded as he was released and how he learned to live more richly after being deprived of simple pleasures for so long.&lt;br /&gt;
Melendez extended his stay in Walla Walla so that he could attend a dinner in his honor Wednesday evening. Speaking to a group of students from Whitman and WWCC, Melendez predicted that the death penalty would be abolished within the next ten years, and described meetings with recently executed inmate Troy Davis and anti-execution New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson.&lt;br /&gt;
“I told him, you’re the one in power,” Melendez said of Richardson. “You make the changes. I gave him lots of reasons.”&lt;br /&gt;
WWCC student Anthony Martinez described being surprised and affected by the speech.&lt;br /&gt;
“It was pretty amazing the way he told his story,” Martinez said. “I expected him to tell it sad. He told it in a way like he enjoyed it, and it was cool how he managed to live through it, how he managed to move forward through it.”&lt;br /&gt;
The final words of Melendez’s lecture echoed his hopeful prediction, asking the audience to join him in fulfilling his dream of ending the death penalty.&lt;br /&gt;
“I have a confession to make: I’m still a dreamer,” he said. “But this dream cannot come true if all of you don’t get involved. You see, you are part of my dream now!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSNy5bbMTJWMcDTJ6s5UTwT23OLpNm5frguP7Y6KdXlC8MigWvAGIFsisbMZ4i_QEV4NP-8RAElaPKR1x26uVSuowlYLCsCB7RO75k9htJEy-Gk9p3BG3NzycIac9Nk1kq9cHZnBmzRMm/s1600/Marin-Axtell_Innocent-on-Death-Row_IMG_0059web-640x426.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSNy5bbMTJWMcDTJ6s5UTwT23OLpNm5frguP7Y6KdXlC8MigWvAGIFsisbMZ4i_QEV4NP-8RAElaPKR1x26uVSuowlYLCsCB7RO75k9htJEy-Gk9p3BG3NzycIac9Nk1kq9cHZnBmzRMm/s320/Marin-Axtell_Innocent-on-Death-Row_IMG_0059web-640x426.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/7732675644363122836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/7732675644363122836' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/7732675644363122836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/7732675644363122836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/10/juan-melendez-discusses-injustice-of.html' title='Juan Melendez discusses injustice of capital punishment'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSNy5bbMTJWMcDTJ6s5UTwT23OLpNm5frguP7Y6KdXlC8MigWvAGIFsisbMZ4i_QEV4NP-8RAElaPKR1x26uVSuowlYLCsCB7RO75k9htJEy-Gk9p3BG3NzycIac9Nk1kq9cHZnBmzRMm/s72-c/Marin-Axtell_Innocent-on-Death-Row_IMG_0059web-640x426.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-6037314253681246654</id><published>2011-09-22T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-17T12:39:57.775-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="5 minutes"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fair trial"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Innocent"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jennifer Schipsi"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life sentence"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="murder"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Paul Zumot"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sentencing"/><title type='text'>Will you give 5 minutes to save a life?</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
Everyone deserves a fair trial. In a perfect world we don&#39;t make mistakes. In the trial of Paul Zumot many mistakes were made. Even worse, they were made on purpose. The prosecution wanted a conviction at any cost, so held back important evidence proving Paul&#39;s innocence.They succeeded. Despite the overwhelming evidence Paul is innocent, he was found guilty and is now awaiting his sentencing trial. He could face life without parole.  If  we stand by and do nothing, Paul could end up behind bars for the rest of his life. If you could take 5 minutes of your time and copy this letter and send it to the below addresses, you could ensure a new trial for Paul and save his life. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We refuse to give up hope. So we hope you will give us 5 minutes, just 5 minutes to save a life. Will you?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQBTztUV6Vj8rofdVLPQj7pJvxyiFX3f17K0Ys60I1hjOTdZA_6YChS5q8FM-Peanh_cFep5uk6CaaYRcHItW9cPo_VnX5ciwTVasJclIV3J5oqBbC_YK3ThiF2dEBqXVBs_qCDNJaLi4/s1600/paul_zumot.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;176&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQBTztUV6Vj8rofdVLPQj7pJvxyiFX3f17K0Ys60I1hjOTdZA_6YChS5q8FM-Peanh_cFep5uk6CaaYRcHItW9cPo_VnX5ciwTVasJclIV3J5oqBbC_YK3ThiF2dEBqXVBs_qCDNJaLi4/s320/paul_zumot.jpg&quot; width=&quot;148&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Letter&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
On October 15th 2009 Jennifer Schipsi was murdered  and her body was set on fire in the cottage she shared with her boyfriend Paul Zumot. &lt;br /&gt;
Paul Zumot was found guilty of her murder. His sentencing trial will take place on his birthday; October 14th 2011. He could face a life sentence. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We would like to ask your attention for the following facts that havent been properly presented during his trial:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;At the morning of Jennifer&#39;s murder, Paul left the cottage and didn&#39;t return until he received the news the cottage was on fire. A witness confirmed hearing her voice right before Paul left. He could prove his whereabouts by surveillance cameras and witnesses during that day. Therefore Paul Zumot had an alibi he couldn&#39;t have murdered Jennifer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The prosecution stated that Paul didn&#39;t cooperate during interrogations, but at the same time refused to show the jury the tapes of the interrogations. After Paul was found guilty, the tapes were released and show that Paul was very cooperative. The tapes also show how Paul fell down crying uncontrollably, when he heard Jennifer was murdered. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When the cottage caught fire, Paul was in the shop he owned, 1,5 miles away from the crime scene. There were 2 witnesses confirming this. With 16 traffic lights and stop signs it took Paul 20 minutes to get to the cottage, when he received the news his house was on fire. The prosecution claims it took him 2 minutes to drive from the cottage to his shop.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Jennifer had made quite some enemies during the years. She got a restraining order against 2 men a week before her death, because she was afraid for her and Paul&#39;s life. &lt;br /&gt;
The police and prosecution never fully investigated other possible suspects. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Paul didn&#39;t have a motive. He was planning on proposing to Jennifer and wanted to build a future with her. It isn&#39;t in his character to murder anyone, let alone to murder the woman he loved. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The prosecution withheld important evidence that would jeopardize a conviction.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Most importantly; there is no physical evidence at all to link Paul to the murder. There were no witnesses seeing Paul at the scene of the crime during the murder or the fire. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The prosecution based their entire case on hearsay. With an alibi, no physical evidence and no witnesses seeing him at the crime scene, Paul Zumot should have been found innocent. The prosecution&#39;s job was to prove his guilt without any reasonable doubt. By not allowing all of the evidence to be shown during the trial, the jury made a decision based on what the prosecution wanted them to see. If the jury would have seen all the evidence, there would be more than reasonable doubt and Paul would have been released.  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Based upon the above and more facts not even mentioned in this letter, we find that Paul Zumot deserves a fair trial. Therefore we urge you to review Paul&#39;s case again and give him a new trial. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
People to contact:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Head of wrongful convictions department : dangel@da.sccgov.org &lt;br /&gt;
District Attorney: jrosen@da.sccgov.org &lt;br /&gt;
mgreenwo@pdo.sccgov.org &lt;br /&gt;
the Governor:  http://gov.ca.gov/m_contact.php&lt;br /&gt;
Honorable Judge David Cena: sscriminfo@scscourt.org&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Jeffrey F. Rosen&lt;br /&gt;
District Attorney&lt;br /&gt;
70 W. Hedding Street, West Wing&lt;br /&gt;
San Jose CA 95110&lt;br /&gt;
Phone: (408) 299-3099&lt;br /&gt;
Fax: (408) 286-5437&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Jay Boyarsky&lt;br /&gt;
Chief Assistant District Attorney&lt;br /&gt;
Phone: (408) 299-3099&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
TOP RANKING ASSISTANTS&lt;br /&gt;
David Angel&lt;br /&gt;
Special Assistant District Attorney&lt;br /&gt;
Phone: (408) 792-2857&lt;br /&gt;
David Howe&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
More info can be found on www.paulzumot.com</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/6037314253681246654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/6037314253681246654' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6037314253681246654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6037314253681246654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/09/will-you-give-5-minutes-to-save-life.html' title='Will you give 5 minutes to save a life?'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQBTztUV6Vj8rofdVLPQj7pJvxyiFX3f17K0Ys60I1hjOTdZA_6YChS5q8FM-Peanh_cFep5uk6CaaYRcHItW9cPo_VnX5ciwTVasJclIV3J5oqBbC_YK3ThiF2dEBqXVBs_qCDNJaLi4/s72-c/paul_zumot.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-6006933297243191799</id><published>2011-08-30T14:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-19T05:46:15.338-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="answers"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="awkward"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="listen"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="talk"/><title type='text'>Listen</title><content type='html'>Please don&#39;t interrupt me when I am listening to you. It&#39;s not very polite.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When I talk, you can speak. You don&#39;t need to listen. Please don&#39;t absorb every word that comes from my mouth. You can give the same reply to completely different answers. That should be enough.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hey, how you&#39;re doing?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I&#39;m doing fine.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Well, you take it easy.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hey, how you&#39;re doing?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Honestly, I feel like crap.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Well, you take it easy.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You rule the world with talk. Small talk, speeches, presentations, interruptions. The one with the biggest mouth wins. You. I speak two words and you interrupt. You cannot read between the lines. You can speak between the lines. You hear the words, but you speak before you listen. You don&#39;t need to listen. You already listen to yourself when you talk. That should be enough. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Won&#39;t it be awkward when one day you talk and there is no one left to listen?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/6006933297243191799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/6006933297243191799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6006933297243191799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6006933297243191799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/08/listen.html' title='Listen'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-5808421753949001067</id><published>2011-08-30T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T11:45:38.391-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="language"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="silence"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="voices in my head"/><title type='text'>the silence</title><content type='html'>The silence is deafening. The voices in my head are talking so fast, I can barely comprehend. &lt;br /&gt;
I wonder what language they are speaking, because I don&#39;t understand a word. I try to decipher the words, but nothing sounds familiar. The silence surrounds me like a fog. I try not to listen, but I can&#39;t escape the silence. Everywhere I go, the silence follows me. The only thing I can do is embrace the silence and let it lead me. I wonder where I&#39;ll go.&lt;br /&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/5808421753949001067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/5808421753949001067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/5808421753949001067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/5808421753949001067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/08/silence.html' title='the silence'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-2772010888733871683</id><published>2011-08-27T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T14:19:09.859-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="random thoughts"/><title type='text'>Random thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m Italian. I am Dutch. I&#39;m stubborn, I have a big mouth, I am brutally honest and I expect the same in return. I act tough, but sometimes I am not. I trust people until they prove otherwise. I can be a total bitch. I can be a complete sweetheart. I am open and straight forward. I rather know then be kept in the dark, no matter if it hurts like hell. Not knowing eats me alive. I love adventure. I hate routine. I am easy. I am difficult. I forgive, but never forget.  If you screw me over, I will get revenge. When things get boring, I hate life. When I take risks, I love life.&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
I want to go to Africa and start my own elephant farm. I want to move to the States and start my own mob family.  I want to travel all over the world. I want to have sex in the jungle. I want to kiss a whale. I want to paint 100 naked men. I want to drive to the sun without getting a sunburn. I want to become rich without getting caught. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have nightmares. I am scared, but not afraid. I need someone around. Sometimes. I need to be alone. Lots of times. I think a lot. I say less. I expect a lot. I get little. I am a walking understatement. I am a sleeping over achiever. I live for pain. I love for lust. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Suck it up or let it out. Be honest or be gone. Be with me or against me. Kiss my lips or kiss my ass. If you cannot love me, hate me. It&#39;s still an emotion. Feel me. Touch me. You can walk away. But never let me go. Life sucks. Suck life. Before it&#39;s gone.  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/2772010888733871683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/2772010888733871683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/2772010888733871683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/2772010888733871683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/08/random-thoughts.html' title='Random thoughts'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-5829558043599360795</id><published>2011-07-08T15:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-17T12:14:03.309-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Brett Hartmann"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clemency board"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death penalty"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death row"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="execution"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="innocence"/><title type='text'>Letter to the clemency board for Brett</title><content type='html'>Dear members of the Parole Board,      June 27, 2011&lt;br /&gt;
I am writing you in regard of the planned execution of Brett Hartmann on August 16th.&lt;br /&gt;
I want to urge you to give Brett Hartmann a stay of execution.&lt;br /&gt;
I have known Brett for over 4 years now. I have read the trial transcripts and the police reports myself. I have come to the conclusion that there is too much doubt about his guilt to execute Brett.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The facts of this case:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There were hairs found on the victims body and also a used condom. Despite different attempts, the Summit County Prosecutor refused to have these important pieces of evidence tested. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There was evidence supporting Brett’s own story; he was with the victim the night before she was murdered and he found her hours after the murder. The evidence of the time of the murder, like the alarm clock and finger prints found, were sent to the lab, but the results were never shared. Other evidence at the time of the murder were never tested at all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At the time of the murder Brett was at home (15 minutes away from the crime scene) on the phone with a friend. The testimony of that friend and phone records support this.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The defense failed to call expert witnesses on the stand who contradicted the testimony of the expert witness of the Prosecutor, Rod Englert. His theory and testimony about the blood found on Brett’s t-shirt were false. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When comparing the police reports with the testimonies of several police officers, it becomes clear that these police officers committed perjury in favor for the Prosecution. For example there was a fingerprint found on the alarm clock (the cord was used to strangle the victim) and sent to the lab, but the results were never shared.  Members of the police testified the fingerprint was not clear enough to send it to the lab.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The police and Prosecutor failed to pursue the most likely alternative suspect. He didn’t have an alibi at the time of the murder, he had a master key of the building and he was the ex boyfriend of the victim. Witnesses have heard him threaten the victim on several occasions. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There is questionable testimony from a jailhouse snitch. Perjury involving the primary government informant in the case would bring the reliability of the jury’s guilty verdict into question.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Brett as the person I know: &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have come to know Brett as a generous, loving and caring person. He has been a great friend over the years. I have had contact with Brett through letters, on the phone and on several visits. Despite his situation he has always been there for me and always supported me through all my ordeals. He is a calm, intelligent and thoughtful person. He has successfully finished his paralegal studies, became an ordained minister and has done several other studies while incarcerated. He has also painted the walls in the prison and has made several paintings for family and loved ones. Brett is a huge contribution to many peoples’ lives. He certainly is to mine. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Finally, I have the upmost sympathy for Winda Snipes’ family and friends. But when there is so much doubt about Brett’s guilt, executing him will bring them no justice either.The real killer might still be walking the streets. I am urging you, not only for Brett’s sake, but also for Winda, her loved ones and for the safety of everyone else, that you give Brett Hartmann a stay of execution.  With this stay DNA can be tested and we can prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Brett is in fact innocent. When you don’t give Brett a stay, the streets are not safer, Winda and her loved ones haven’t gotten justice and the real killer remains unpunished.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sincerely,</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/5829558043599360795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/5829558043599360795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/5829558043599360795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/5829558043599360795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/07/letter-to-clemency-board-for-brett.html' title='Letter to the clemency board for Brett'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-5849691737535021590</id><published>2011-06-20T13:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-17T11:54:55.460-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Brett Hartmann"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death penalty"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="innocence"/><title type='text'>My letter for Brett</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYy5hyphenhyphenFfl6atL3NU8cQlH8brki661qHZXcEL547E2TSUK82QymiecWlDM5jXtjeLEDxWWcla-ZFoMDcnkU46qScnTqRE4lUdlqFo-U7SDRINOK4zUAYJUUKbmLNLdRUtfk0F8dkAYfRUt5/s1600/news_lead-2.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYy5hyphenhyphenFfl6atL3NU8cQlH8brki661qHZXcEL547E2TSUK82QymiecWlDM5jXtjeLEDxWWcla-ZFoMDcnkU46qScnTqRE4lUdlqFo-U7SDRINOK4zUAYJUUKbmLNLdRUtfk0F8dkAYfRUt5/s320/news_lead-2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;212&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I keep procrastinating it, because I don&#39;t want to do it. Because when I do, it is reality. When I do, the truth is going to hit me like a ton of bricks. August 16. Just another date for so many people. But that date has been hunting me. I&#39;ve had nightmares about that date. For more than 4 years he has been such a close friend. And now I need to write a letter to the Clemency Board to save his life. Brett has an execution date for August 16.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizPlbE92Ve6Cic74vFWpTAjLLYcp35F4mvFb_8MEAYVFNDb6WCudGh-968Dc4vt9MTcipVfkHpD6irOQcPeDFYjJ3jHyANBAgB7_MJhDD2JEma0J_502rbhBL_9c4VLh-Yzk5JCddsKVqW/s1600/brett_in_hat-147x228.jpeg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizPlbE92Ve6Cic74vFWpTAjLLYcp35F4mvFb_8MEAYVFNDb6WCudGh-968Dc4vt9MTcipVfkHpD6irOQcPeDFYjJ3jHyANBAgB7_MJhDD2JEma0J_502rbhBL_9c4VLh-Yzk5JCddsKVqW/s1600/brett_in_hat-147x228.jpeg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He is innocent, so how can this happen? Let me put one thing straight. I am not saying he is innocent, because I want &amp;nbsp;him to be innocent, because I think he is innocent or because he told me he is innocent. I am saying he is innocent, because I know he is innocent. Some of my friends think I have poor judgement when it comes to his innocence. They think I got too personally involved and that this has blurred my objectivity. The great thing about Brett is when we met, he didnt emphasize his innocence. He just sent me the trial transcript and all the police reports and told me to judge for myself. I was amazed by the complete lack of evidence against him and similarily amazed by the pile of evidence supporting his innocence. People have elevated their careers because of Brett&#39;s conviction. He has been on death row for over 13 years now. It makes me angry, it makes me pissed off and it makes me feel completely powerless. I want to slap the members of the Clemency Board in their face with all the evidence supporting his innocence. I want to scream at them that they are about to execute an innocent man and that the real murderer is still out there. I am astonished that &amp;nbsp;prosecutors, policemen and so called expert witnesses have willingly commited perjury and thereby signed his death sentence to help their own careers. If Brett would have pleaded guilty, he would have gotten life without parole. But because he didnt show remorse according to the judge and kept claiming his innocence, he got the death sentence. Brett will never admit guilt, even if he can save his life with it. Not then and not now. The legacy he wants to leave is not that of a murderer. But right now most people see him this way.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXEYDlA8liBQj2pa3qZmBaCdHIrdXv8ZwTWLayQ_w1iFhGP7fdLO00qbGFVC-RDfXYCCOVqd64QyowaxiWDcRHRP7oyznDpvkE3qULDhHwaOdRao8xD1RpC5XKbu_2eJUz9RIRI1GyOxwy/s1600/090310_akron_034.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;225&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXEYDlA8liBQj2pa3qZmBaCdHIrdXv8ZwTWLayQ_w1iFhGP7fdLO00qbGFVC-RDfXYCCOVqd64QyowaxiWDcRHRP7oyznDpvkE3qULDhHwaOdRao8xD1RpC5XKbu_2eJUz9RIRI1GyOxwy/s320/090310_akron_034.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now I have to write a letter to the Clemency Board. Can words persuade them to give him a stay?&lt;br /&gt;
Should I tell them about all of the wonderful memories we shared? Does it matter to them that he loved waking me up with his 3am phonecalls, he learned how to speak Dutch, but couldnt pronounce the letter &#39;G&#39; and we couldn&#39;t stop laughing when throwing food at each other at visits? Do they care that he gave me the nickname Roadrunner and Bula, he made a lot of beautiful paintings for me and that I just don&#39;t want to lose such a dear friend? Will they quickly read through the letter and then lay it aside or will they read it and let the words really sink in?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhVmMKRei9yd9DnrnXZRETnW9jlO2QgkoP7Z6yOc9mOyKcTX3Kd-y97iOU_uNWHtx9caQ_aEG_AenmFG90k-JRNapNaTdAHj5D4Gz7SO48MigzO6OXbXymJFGr4YKsajBr4jVIEsWfNNa/s1600/hartmann%252B01.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;198&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhVmMKRei9yd9DnrnXZRETnW9jlO2QgkoP7Z6yOc9mOyKcTX3Kd-y97iOU_uNWHtx9caQ_aEG_AenmFG90k-JRNapNaTdAHj5D4Gz7SO48MigzO6OXbXymJFGr4YKsajBr4jVIEsWfNNa/s320/hartmann%252B01.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Brett doesn&#39;t deserve to die. He doesn&#39;t need to die. Brett is such a beautiful, warm and gentle person. He blames himself that we became close friends, because he doesn&#39;t want to leave me devastated when he is executed. When his execution does happen, I will be left devastated, but I will never regret knowing him and loving him. I will never regret all the moments we shared. It was all worth it. I wouldn&#39;t change a thing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I hope the words will make them realize that Brett shouldn&#39;t die. I hope Brett will be spared. I hope Brett will live.&amp;nbsp;I hope. I will keep hoping.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/5849691737535021590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/5849691737535021590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/5849691737535021590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/5849691737535021590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-letter-for-brett.html' title='My letter for Brett'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYy5hyphenhyphenFfl6atL3NU8cQlH8brki661qHZXcEL547E2TSUK82QymiecWlDM5jXtjeLEDxWWcla-ZFoMDcnkU46qScnTqRE4lUdlqFo-U7SDRINOK4zUAYJUUKbmLNLdRUtfk0F8dkAYfRUt5/s72-c/news_lead-2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-3674256463421895742</id><published>2011-05-22T06:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-19T05:50:15.349-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="soul"/><title type='text'>Your beautiful soul</title><content type='html'>A beautiful mind, filled with extraordinary thoughts. A beautiful soul, filled with intense emotions. I am amazed by the truth behind your thoughts. I am touched by the heart behind your emotions. You are unique in a way that is unique itself. &amp;nbsp;Words not spoken from the heart are better left unsaid. As I listen to your words, I realize how remarkable you are. Your soul speaks the language of the heart so fluently, I cannot stop listening.&lt;br /&gt;
I tell myself to remember the words, because there is so much to learn from it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A beautiful mind, filled with a great sense of humor. A beautiful soul, filled with smiles and laughter. A sense of humor so compatible to mine. In times of stress, laughter eases the pain. In times of grieve, a smile gets everyting into perspective. When you can laugh at each others jokes, life gets easier in a way.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A beautiful mind, filled with the hard lessons of life. A beautiful soul, filled with pain and love. When you can share your pain with each other without holding back, you are connected. You can cry and you can even argue. When our heart bleeds, we accept that we can argue sometimes. We will cry together afterwards and move on. That is how we help each other to deal with the lessons life gives us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You are who you are. I cherish the good and the bad. Why? Because I am in love with your soul.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/3674256463421895742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/3674256463421895742' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/3674256463421895742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/3674256463421895742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/05/your-beautiful-soul.html' title='Your beautiful soul'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-4408672397069305566</id><published>2011-05-16T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-11T06:38:21.827-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><title type='text'>Chasing dreams</title><content type='html'>When you walked away, I couldn&#39;t move. I let you walk away until you were nothing but a fragment of my imagination. Your existence only remained in my mind. I believed in you, I believed in us. I forgot to believe in myself. Your dreams became mine. It didn&#39;t matter what I wanted. It was never a part of your dreams. I got captured in your world. I forgot what my world looked like. I altered myself, so I could be who I thought you wanted me to be. You didn&#39;t ask me to do this, but you didn&#39;t mind it happened. I followed your dreams everywhere. I was convinced I could fulfill your dreams, but somehow I was afraid I couldn&#39;t fulfill my own.&lt;br /&gt;
So I buried my dreams and focused on yours. It felt so much easier. There was never a weight on my shoulders, because I was good in chasing dreams for everyone else but myself. I was ready to change my life for you. I had already given up so much, but I believed it was for a greater good. My best friend asked me if this was what I needed to do or what I wanted to do. I couldn&#39;t answer the question, but our conversation kept haunting me.&amp;nbsp;So I let you walk away. Left with nothing, I didn&#39;t know who I was anymore. I couldn&#39;t remember where my dreams were buried. I put all of your dreams in a box. They were no longer my dreams to chase.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have learned from this all and I have never regretted being with you. I hope I won&#39;t make the same mistakes again though. I will always do my best to help other people pursuing their dreams, I just won&#39;t chase them myself anymore. I have my own dreams now. And no matter how small they are, they&#39;re my dreams.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/4408672397069305566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/4408672397069305566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/4408672397069305566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/4408672397069305566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/05/chasing-dreams.html' title='Chasing dreams'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-2459138927224402729</id><published>2011-05-16T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T14:34:37.396-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="abstract"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="art"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="My paintings"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nude"/><title type='text'>My paintings 2007-2011</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;Painting is therapy for me. When I paint I get captured in my own world. All the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders when I paint. I feel so connected with myself, I feel so at ease when I paint. Below are some of my paintings. Hope you like them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5m0KQAgUTA3bSD7z_ItDvEjxZzXtk1JqkRqyUB3TMF58ftUUoXytskGTWHn9AUsuzLdWb-R3OZOfoELRLZdpJoHLIVYgQuRIIIeSgKIpfHQBnB0QZpHDgABpVoWEgxrXT8zx32veO-Pql/s1600/148119_1723426011895_1425715526_1859702_6807495_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5m0KQAgUTA3bSD7z_ItDvEjxZzXtk1JqkRqyUB3TMF58ftUUoXytskGTWHn9AUsuzLdWb-R3OZOfoELRLZdpJoHLIVYgQuRIIIeSgKIpfHQBnB0QZpHDgABpVoWEgxrXT8zx32veO-Pql/s400/148119_1723426011895_1425715526_1859702_6807495_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/2459138927224402729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/2459138927224402729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/2459138927224402729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/2459138927224402729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-paintings-2007-2011.html' title='My paintings 2007-2011'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2rYxvtUiykRjHHOrfyUgk3H_Yjfao0fyrWUYaq2uucWj1PJydxxzIhZ7qwUerFV8f5N64z0RueNLsMjTGzN9PHZjOxbRc_E4orhyAcY9U7Gh6Z6CAmSqEb_IbPNRw1nazfPv6IY4rzZw/s72-c/273.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-5734131320610931127</id><published>2011-05-15T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T14:35:22.727-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hell"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="neighbours"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="she-devil"/><title type='text'>Our neighbour from hell</title><content type='html'>I have come to the conclusion that certain people only have one goal in life; annoying other people.&lt;br /&gt;
Sadly enough our neighbour is one of them. I don&#39;t have any problems with her husband, but that woman came straight from hell. They are an elderly couple, so they&#39;re almost always at home. It started a couple of months ago. I live on the 8th floor of an appartment building. When I came home with a friend of mine, the she-devil approached me and stated that I needed to scrub the floor in front of my appartment. Since they had to pass my appartment every day to go to the elevator, it was bothering her. I said I would and didn&#39;t give it much thought after that. Within a week I received a letter from my housing corporation asking me to clean the floor. She had filed a complaint about me! I was pissed, but I scrubbed the floor and hoped she would fall on her ass when she walked by. She didn&#39;t.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
About 2 weeks ago she came out of her chambers of hell to cause problems again. I wasn&#39;t at home, but Vera, my roomie, was. Vera was in bed, when she heard someone banging on her bedroom window. She opened the front door and there she was; the fire spitting she-devil, her horns freshly sharpened. She started ranting and cussing as soon as Vera opened the door. She yelled that she had been ringing the doorbell for 15 minutes already. Our cats had somehow found their way on her balcony. Although they have a cat themselves, she claimed that her husband couldnt stand the hairs of our cats. She threathened she would call the corporation.Vera was totally flabbergasted. Our she-devil neighbour kept on ranting and when steam started coming out of her ears, Vera slammed the door shut.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This time I was beyond pissed.&amp;nbsp;Of course our cats shouldn&#39;t come on her balcony, but dang, you can also ask nicely!!&amp;nbsp;My mob style alter ego took over and I was ready to give her an offer she couldn&#39;t refuse.&lt;br /&gt;
I planned to call her on it as soon as I ran into her. But sadly I haven&#39;t run into her yet. So we came up with some other ideas. We thought about throwing a dildo in her mailbox, but we figured she&#39;d probably enjoy that too much. Peeing on her plants at her frontdoor was also an option or play an adult movie very loudly when she is on her balcony. Don&#39;t worry, we haven&#39;t done anything (yet). But I can tell you one thing, if I get another letter from the corporation with a complaint or she comes at my door one more time, I am going to be the one spitting fire. She may be a she-devil, but she&#39;ll regret messing with a Hungarian bad ass and an Italian mobster!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To be continued...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/5734131320610931127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/5734131320610931127' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/5734131320610931127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/5734131320610931127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/05/our-neighbour-from-hell.html' title='Our neighbour from hell'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-4682423804171152850</id><published>2011-05-14T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-11T06:36:52.582-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mask"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memories"/><title type='text'>The mask you wear so perfectly</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
Certain people have invaded my thoughts the last couple of days. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;I call it invasion, because I have been trying so hard to block these people out of my mind. I guess it didn’t work. Sometimes someone can destroy so much, that even the good memories disappear. Those memories used to bring a smile on my face, but now everything has changed. Anger and bitterness remain. I blamed myself at first, although I didn&#39;t even know what had happened. I still believed in your sincerity, because I needed to. I still believed in your goodness, because I wanted to.&amp;nbsp;You said you never wanted to hurt me. But you did it anyway. I guess actions speak louder than words.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
But it&#39;s over now. I have stopped believing in you. I don&#39;t believe in what you are trying to represent. You have been playing your act for so long, you have started to believe in it yourself. You are a misrepresentation of yourself. I know I have my faults and flaws, I know I am not perfect. But at least I can say I am perfectly myself. The only perfection you have is how you wear your mask. You are wearing it so perfectly that no one knows and no one sees who you really are. In the end I knew and I saw. You made me pay the price for that. But ultimately you will pay that price. Your mask will fade away and the people will see you for who you are. You are just a shell now, an empty shell. If you keep wearing your mask, you will never find happiness. You keep searching for it, but I know you still haven&#39;t found it. You have crossed the world, so desperately to find a hint of happiness. But you will never find happiness if you cannot be yourself. You think you have been cursed, but the only curse there is, is the one you put on yourself.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
The good memories are still there, but I have buried them. One day I will be able to let those memories surface and maybe it will put a smile on my face again. Until then the memories of you are locked up inside of me, your existence only visible in pictures I won&#39;t look at again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
I don&#39;t feel vengeance. Behind the anger and bitterness I still have hope for you; hope that you will be able to find yourself behind the mask you wear so perfectly.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/4682423804171152850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/4682423804171152850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/4682423804171152850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/4682423804171152850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/05/mask-you-wear-so-perfectly.html' title='The mask you wear so perfectly'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-6175438437112123961</id><published>2011-04-23T09:08:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T09:08:02.216-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poems"/><title type='text'>Ducati</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;It has been so easy to love you,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;you captured my heart in every way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;We knew each other without saying a word,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;with you the world seemed brighter every day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;I think of all the beautiful moments we shared,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;and I feel the hurt of having to let you go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;Despite all of the love it has ended,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;It went so fast, but seems so slow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;I can honestly and with all my heart say,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;I will always love and cherish you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;The words we shared, the vows we said,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;it still is and will always be true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;I have shed so many tears the last months,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;what is left now is the scar in my heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;Although my heart hasnt healed yet,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;we both need to make a new start.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;True love sometimes means letting someone go,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;so I will let go and make a new start.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;But I will never ever forget,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;the words that were written in my heart....&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/6175438437112123961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/6175438437112123961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6175438437112123961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6175438437112123961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/04/ducati.html' title='Ducati'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-6328687807072428266</id><published>2011-04-21T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T14:36:59.173-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Brett Hartmann"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death penalty"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="innocence"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mom"/><title type='text'>Returning home</title><content type='html'>When you just lost someone, the memories hurt like hell. You try so hard to erase all the memories, because you can&#39;t stand the pain. You pray for amnesia, because maybe that will help you move on. Everywhere you go, everything you do, reminds you of the person you lost. After a while the pain eases a little bit and for the first time the memories make you smile.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My (second) mom passed away almost a year ago. I am planning to go see her son, my dear friend Brett, pretty soon. Brett has spent the last 13 years on death row for a crime he did not commit.&lt;br /&gt;
When I arrive in the States, she won&#39;t pick me up from the airport. She won&#39;t be smoking Richmond cigarettes and won&#39;t buy us donuts for our afternoon coffee. She won&#39;t be watching Law and Order in the kitchen. She won&#39;t say she needs to put her face on before going out (God how that always made me smile). She won&#39;t put her arms around me and tell me she loves me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mom was one of the strongest women I have ever known. Her heart was bigger than the state she lived in. There were so many beautiful things about her that defined the person she was. Even in time of darkness, she still had hope. She never gave up the fight to free Brett.&amp;nbsp;I admire her beyond words. In every way, she is the definition of my hero.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Writing this brings back memories. It makes me smile, but cry at the same time. &amp;nbsp;No one can ever take away the moments we shared and all the beautiful memories I have of her. I only wish there would have been more memories.&amp;nbsp;I wish you were still here mom. God how I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I know it will hurt like hell to go back without her being there. She ended her last email to me with &quot; Luv you little one.. Mom&quot;.&amp;nbsp;The last time I saw mom, she told me I would always have a family there to come home to.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So mom I&#39;m coming home.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/6328687807072428266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/6328687807072428266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6328687807072428266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6328687807072428266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/04/returning-home.html' title='Returning home'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-6065315445265824108</id><published>2011-04-21T06:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-11T06:42:06.663-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poems"/><title type='text'>The sun will always be the same</title><content type='html'>In the breeze I hear your whisper,&lt;br /&gt;
the thunderstorm reflects my pain.&lt;br /&gt;
Through the wind I feel your heartbeat,&lt;br /&gt;
but still the sun will always be the same.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have no trust left in this darkness,&lt;br /&gt;
but I feel your tears falling like the rain.&lt;br /&gt;
You came and left like a tornado,&lt;br /&gt;
but still the sun will always be the same.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A storm is roaring in my soul,&lt;br /&gt;
The love within drowned in sea.&lt;br /&gt;
But I know in this deep darkness,&lt;br /&gt;
there is still some sunlight in me.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/6065315445265824108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/6065315445265824108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6065315445265824108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/6065315445265824108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/04/sun-will-always-be-same.html' title='The sun will always be the same'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7419657272944798929.post-3800159302606503746</id><published>2011-04-17T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T14:37:55.947-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bucket list"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="goals"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><title type='text'>My bucket list</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;When I was young I wanted to become a stewardess, a clown, a private investigator and a journalist. I scratched becoming a stewardess of my list rather quickly. I liked the idea of traveling, but the rest wasnt really for me. Then the clown changed into a stand up comedian, the private investigator changed into a member of the Italian mob and the journalist changed into a bestselling author. God knows how I ended up being a teamleader in a callcentre, it most certainly wasnt part of my plan. I dont think I will become a stand up comedian, because I am only funny by accident and I recently heard from someone you have to be fullblood Italian to be accepted as a member of the Italian mob and since I am half Italian and a woman, I dont think I&#39;ll stand a chance. So the bestselling author remains. I am writing a book, so who knows! I really want to finish this book and then see if I can find a publisher. But I am sure I will get it done. Since the past few months I have been thinking a lot about what I want and what I dont want, what I am good at and what I suck at (which is quite a lot!), I decided to make my very own bucket list. Ever seen the movie? Well I haven&#39;t. It&#39;s on my bucket list now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;It&#39;s great to have a bucket list and to be able to check things off that you have done. I would suggest to all of you to make a bucket list, it is so much fun. I wrote my small dreams and big dreams on there and I hope I will have checked off all of them before I die. So here are some of the things on my bucket list. I wont bore you with all of the things on my list, but I can tell you my bucket list is huge! But here we go with some of the things on my list:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fly an airplane (preferable&amp;nbsp;without passengers for their own safety)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Visit Tibet&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Go see my &#39;big bro&#39; Jeff in Lancaster&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Go to South Africa and Australia&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Have an exposition with my paintings&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Become a bestselling author (so you all have to buy my book!)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Have a big party for all of my friends with Italian food and music&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Do it in an elevator (well what can I say!)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Go to a Pearl Jam concert&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Love, live and laugh&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;These are just some of the things on my bucket list. I hope you feel inspired to make a bucket list as well!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;&quot;&gt;Oh and I havent given up on my dream to become a member of the Italian mob just yet. I figured they really need a woman as il capo di tutti capi, so I&#39;ll just start my own famiglia :-) Another thing on my bucket list!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/feeds/3800159302606503746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/7419657272944798929/3800159302606503746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/3800159302606503746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7419657272944798929/posts/default/3800159302606503746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vitanadia.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-bucket-list.html' title='My bucket list'/><author><name>Io sono qui</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024026075118805752</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI6xhJm6S7IwixGroTtg66qDLnH828hmaKRGvaiy971QDa0wNobkqsX3HDt1cyXhG5b2Ps_LeHJ2hYm6nN7r8p1anCSi3vi1bgiylXGsMJa3SOkZWt7R7RtgMVxXSCg/s220/035.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>