<?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: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-423846388683717019</id><updated>2011-07-07T15:15:28.336-07:00</updated><category term='speech'/><category term='sanity'/><category term='insanity'/><category term='language'/><category term='dilemma'/><category term='attempts'/><category term='love'/><title type='text'>When I Was Young, Yesterday</title><subtitle type='html'>when music is not the outlet i seek...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>NotAVisionary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647933314773167395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c6PLHYwfHic/SUJYis3nmiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gr1AeAGfmmM/S220/pics+077.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423846388683717019.post-2527442861142006896</id><published>2010-04-02T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T15:24:14.871-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>-  the melina hotel on the island of santorini.  &lt;strong&gt;greece&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;italy&lt;/strong&gt;.  mediterranean food.  the mythology i loved in my childhood.  ancient-ness.  it is almost a taste.&lt;br /&gt;-  &lt;strong&gt;norway&lt;/strong&gt;.  to fullfil my obsession with aurora borealis.  i shall go once in summer, to experience the pleasantness, and once in winter to fly with the cold colours of the northern lights in a whiteness only norway can proffer.  how snuggly it will be.&lt;br /&gt;-  &lt;strong&gt;egypt&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;morroco&lt;/strong&gt; with jess.  smell the spicy open markets, the heat.  feel the texture of the desert fabrics.  hear the music of memories beyond memory.  dance the way a body was meant to dance.  it will be a dream.  and i will be living it.&lt;br /&gt;-  &lt;strong&gt;poland&lt;/strong&gt;, again with my sister, then on to &lt;strong&gt;denmark&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;the netherlands&lt;/strong&gt;.  krakow.  auschwitz.  warsaw.  the countryside.  the cultural details that make those people proud.  i will experience that.  underground jazz clubs.  statues of chopin and hans christian andersen.  copenhagen.  yes.&lt;br /&gt;-  &lt;strong&gt;RUSSIA&lt;/strong&gt;.  all of it.  i will imagine myself a romanov and be a princess in moscow and saint petersburg and novosibirsk.  and, hopefully, a small village of which i have not yet heard.  also, &lt;strong&gt;ukraine&lt;/strong&gt;.  kiev.  i shall prepare by listening diligently to "pictures at an exhibition."&lt;br /&gt;-  i've heard nice things about spain, but my heart does not long for it.  instead, my soul and i shall flee to &lt;strong&gt;ireland&lt;/strong&gt;.  i will take a peek at dublin.  visit the greennnnnery of cork, where i might have lived.  but i shall come to rest in belfast.  derry.  antrim.  northern irish magic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now if only i had the means to travel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well.  i'm working on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/423846388683717019-2527442861142006896?l=sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/feeds/2527442861142006896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2010/04/melina-hotel-on-island-of-santorini.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/2527442861142006896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/2527442861142006896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2010/04/melina-hotel-on-island-of-santorini.html' title=''/><author><name>NotAVisionary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647933314773167395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c6PLHYwfHic/SUJYis3nmiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gr1AeAGfmmM/S220/pics+077.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423846388683717019.post-7082628781530702423</id><published>2009-01-30T01:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T01:36:40.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>also not poems...</title><content type='html'>1.  "cue to go"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing turns me on&lt;br /&gt;anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  "ambition"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to be NOTICED!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and also, unnoticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  "have you ever"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;truly connected&lt;br /&gt;with someone&lt;br /&gt;you don't really know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  "oh, boy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm in&lt;br /&gt;over my head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  "hold fast"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to dignity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  "don't"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jump off the bridge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  "the road i'm walking"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dead ends.&lt;br /&gt;and when i turn&lt;br /&gt;the path is already&lt;br /&gt;reclaimed by new growth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  "give me"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a song to sing&lt;br /&gt;and i will sing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  "touch your eyes/lips/heart"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i will -&lt;br /&gt;with my voice.&lt;br /&gt;if you let me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/423846388683717019-7082628781530702423?l=sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/feeds/7082628781530702423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2009/01/also-not-poems.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/7082628781530702423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/7082628781530702423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2009/01/also-not-poems.html' title='also not poems...'/><author><name>NotAVisionary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647933314773167395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c6PLHYwfHic/SUJYis3nmiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gr1AeAGfmmM/S220/pics+077.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423846388683717019.post-7184934247811238285</id><published>2009-01-29T02:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T02:09:42.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>dating sites, etc...</title><content type='html'>i realized something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everyone's looking for love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's because we all need it.  the people who post in the craigslist "casual encounters" section may need the physical manifestation of love more immediately than, say, someone who signs up for a WHOLE YEAR on eharmony.  BUT.  it's still what they're looking for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let's all listen to love songs.  and get along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 m&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/423846388683717019-7184934247811238285?l=sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/feeds/7184934247811238285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2009/01/dating-sites-etc.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/7184934247811238285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/7184934247811238285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2009/01/dating-sites-etc.html' title='dating sites, etc...'/><author><name>NotAVisionary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647933314773167395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c6PLHYwfHic/SUJYis3nmiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gr1AeAGfmmM/S220/pics+077.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423846388683717019.post-7255432543246926623</id><published>2009-01-29T02:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T02:05:57.828-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i don't blog...</title><content type='html'>to get comments or views.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i do it because i have horrible handwriting which makes it a hassle to read my own journals.  yeah.  so i may be more cautious about what i write here because it MAY be seen by someone i know (or don't know)  BUT.  i still don't really care what people think and i'm not looking for input.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/423846388683717019-7255432543246926623?l=sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/feeds/7255432543246926623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/7255432543246926623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/7255432543246926623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-blog.html' title='i don&apos;t blog...'/><author><name>NotAVisionary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647933314773167395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c6PLHYwfHic/SUJYis3nmiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gr1AeAGfmmM/S220/pics+077.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423846388683717019.post-4071752283045344971</id><published>2009-01-28T15:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T15:25:42.807-08:00</updated><title type='text'>these are not poems...</title><content type='html'>each year i keep a notebook by my bed entitled "dream-catcher" for me to write things down in before bed. it's not really a journal. and they're not really poems. just thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. "u district"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;brooklyn to 7th is enough time&lt;br /&gt;to compose a piece&lt;br /&gt;about the girl you just passed&lt;br /&gt;with the seattle-scarf and&lt;br /&gt;half-chapped lips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. "hand to mouth"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;since when&lt;br /&gt;is it ok&lt;br /&gt;to never expect&lt;br /&gt;anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. "seattle storefront on sunday morning"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the blank grey window&lt;br /&gt;of the doorwayis interrupted&lt;br /&gt;halfway down&lt;br /&gt;by a tatted grey&lt;br /&gt;blanket holding the&lt;br /&gt;warming stink close&lt;br /&gt;to the body of the&lt;br /&gt;homeless man&lt;br /&gt;dreaming there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. "walking blisters"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't cry -&lt;br /&gt; it's just&lt;br /&gt;skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. "she"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;looks like helena bonham carter&lt;br /&gt;in a you-dub sweatshirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. "disillusionment in the big city"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for a city so big,&lt;br /&gt;there is no room to walk&lt;br /&gt;to my bed&lt;br /&gt;or to yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. "i let myself go"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for,&lt;br /&gt;what's the point?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. "simplicity"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i should just&lt;br /&gt;kiss you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and get it&lt;br /&gt;over with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. "limerick"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she never went to school&lt;br /&gt;there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel you should,&lt;br /&gt;therefore,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. "space conveniency"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;scoot your chair&lt;br /&gt;closer to mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. "trivial"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there are always&lt;br /&gt;too many people&lt;br /&gt;around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and too many&lt;br /&gt;around you,&lt;br /&gt;too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. "control"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes,&lt;br /&gt;i have none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. "daddy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish&lt;br /&gt;you could stay&lt;br /&gt;longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. "matters of consequence"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he looks at me&lt;br /&gt;and sometimes&lt;br /&gt;our eyes&lt;br /&gt;actually&lt;br /&gt;meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why does he&lt;br /&gt;not&lt;br /&gt;look away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but why does&lt;br /&gt;he never&lt;br /&gt;speak?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. "grace"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one day&lt;br /&gt;the pirouette&lt;br /&gt;will make sense...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. "seattle: poetry on buses"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i sat near the front.&lt;br /&gt;at one point,&lt;br /&gt;i was the only person&lt;br /&gt;on board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the bus driver&lt;br /&gt;gave me his&lt;br /&gt;phone number&lt;br /&gt;today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. "why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because&lt;br /&gt;somehow&lt;br /&gt;you are&lt;br /&gt;gorgeous&lt;br /&gt;to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. "moon"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"goodnight, bear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. "what worry does:"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i haven't the strength&lt;br /&gt;to write today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. "sickness"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;reality&lt;br /&gt;is a&lt;br /&gt;disease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. "please, let me explain"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the swivelest swirls&lt;br /&gt;of fingerprints&lt;br /&gt;that have touched me.&lt;br /&gt;are territorial markers -&lt;br /&gt;take heed:&lt;br /&gt;keep away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's all i feel inclined to share at the moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/423846388683717019-4071752283045344971?l=sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/feeds/4071752283045344971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2009/01/these-are-not-poems.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/4071752283045344971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/4071752283045344971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2009/01/these-are-not-poems.html' title='these are not poems...'/><author><name>NotAVisionary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647933314773167395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c6PLHYwfHic/SUJYis3nmiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gr1AeAGfmmM/S220/pics+077.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423846388683717019.post-870633310439313697</id><published>2009-01-03T00:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T00:20:23.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i resolve to...</title><content type='html'>1.  eat something green every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  eat no chocolate (with the exception of white and artificial flavouring).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  exercise in some form every day (amounting to 3 hours per week minimum).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  write a musical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  serve more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/423846388683717019-870633310439313697?l=sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/feeds/870633310439313697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-resolve-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/870633310439313697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/870633310439313697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-resolve-to.html' title='i resolve to...'/><author><name>NotAVisionary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647933314773167395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c6PLHYwfHic/SUJYis3nmiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gr1AeAGfmmM/S220/pics+077.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423846388683717019.post-4911117965389724642</id><published>2008-12-17T05:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T05:42:30.750-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='insanity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sanity'/><title type='text'>so you see...</title><content type='html'>one flew over the cuckoo's nest&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/423846388683717019-4911117965389724642?l=sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/feeds/4911117965389724642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-you-see.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/4911117965389724642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/4911117965389724642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-you-see.html' title='so you see...'/><author><name>NotAVisionary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647933314773167395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c6PLHYwfHic/SUJYis3nmiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gr1AeAGfmmM/S220/pics+077.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423846388683717019.post-6063039672161928532</id><published>2008-12-16T02:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T02:57:13.524-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='speech'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='attempts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='language'/><title type='text'>the way people talk...</title><content type='html'>these days, the way people talk really bothers me.  even really intelligent people.  they use slang, and simple words.  people don't have a wide range in their vocabulary.  it's embarrassing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(i used to think it was only americans, and that british people just naturally knew more words...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;media frequently uses voices with british accents in advertising/endorsing/etc. because they "sound smarter".  it's dumb.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sorry for that tangent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;back to my original point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;people don't speak the way they used to in times previous.  and i'm not saying this with a sense of "the grass is always greener in another time period".  BUT.  i really think that people used the tool of language more proficiently more OFTEN than people now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't laugh, but i cried during the movie "national treasure".  (though i'm not very political, i am definitely a very PATRIOTIC person).  there's a line in the movie where diane kruger's character tells nicolas cage that "people don't speak that way" and he responds with, "no, but they think that way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is entirely true.  i'm not very eloquent or articulate VERBALLY.  but the things i say in my mind are so wonderful and profound and poetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;watch the movie 1776.  thomas jefferson and ben franklin say some very beautiful things.  and a lot of it was taken from actual documentation of the period.  it should move you.  really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;watch "pride and prejudice" (bbc, 1980).  it's sad, but half the people i know (though they understand the plot, etc.) probably don't know the meaning of a LOT of the individual words used.  it's ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;watch "his girl friday".  the dialogue is spoken so fast, yet the words don't deviate at all from the EXACT emotion/description/meaning/focus that they're meant to have...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is a very... vocabulary-lacking... generation.  and the saddest part is... i'm no better!  i cringe on the inside when i catch myself speaking unintelligently.  i know better than that!  but it's so hard not to!  i use the very minimum of what is verbally required.  i know a lot more words than i ever actually use, though i SHOULD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i once tried speaking only in poetics.  it was absolutely lovely - - when i had someone participating WITH me...  but there were only two of us!  and i interact with so many other people during the day, and the habit of poor speaking is so... ingrained..  that there's no way i was able to really practice to the point of proficiency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway.  i guess what i'm saying is.  blah blah blah.  i wish i had lived in another era.  BUT NOT REALLY.  it's just that...  when i actually stop to THINK about it...  i have this strange, longing, yearning feeling.  but i don't know exactly what it is that i'm feeling homesick for...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i won't even try to explain any further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;being alive is nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/423846388683717019-6063039672161928532?l=sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/feeds/6063039672161928532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2008/12/way-people-talk.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/6063039672161928532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/6063039672161928532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2008/12/way-people-talk.html' title='the way people talk...'/><author><name>NotAVisionary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647933314773167395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c6PLHYwfHic/SUJYis3nmiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gr1AeAGfmmM/S220/pics+077.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423846388683717019.post-4761669050139980659</id><published>2008-12-12T04:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T04:45:48.390-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dilemma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>sometimes i think...</title><content type='html'>i am above romance.  i'm not romantic.  no matter how many cinematic fairytales i enjoy slash temporarily obsess over, i really have never let that kind of romance touch my life in reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am above romance.  it is beneath me.  i have commitment issues.  this is probably the best explanation i can give as to why i have never had a boyfriend/serious relationship.  also, i think that by letting myself be used in the past, the lines have been blurred concerning what is acceptable for "relationships" and what isn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not in love.  i have never really been in love.  i am beneath it/it is above me.  that doesn't mean i don't think i'm worthy of being loved or that i am incapable of loving.  it is something i would actually like to have.  something i would like to work towards.  it just hasn't happened yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is possible to attain love, without first having romance.  the problem is, i have no idea how.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/423846388683717019-4761669050139980659?l=sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/feeds/4761669050139980659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2008/12/sometimes-i-think.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/4761669050139980659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/423846388683717019/posts/default/4761669050139980659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sometimesicanfeel.blogspot.com/2008/12/sometimes-i-think.html' title='sometimes i think...'/><author><name>NotAVisionary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647933314773167395</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c6PLHYwfHic/SUJYis3nmiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gr1AeAGfmmM/S220/pics+077.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
