<?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-6773697839619243926</id><updated>2011-07-08T04:48:15.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my mind.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773697839619243926.post-1976061555551230238</id><published>2009-05-28T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T09:34:11.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i feel like a quote out of context.</title><content type='html'>i can't breath. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6773697839619243926-1976061555551230238?l=makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/1976061555551230238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-feel-like-quote-out-of-context.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/1976061555551230238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/1976061555551230238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-feel-like-quote-out-of-context.html' title='i feel like a quote out of context.'/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773697839619243926.post-1131055344900626843</id><published>2009-05-06T12:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T13:23:00.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'>we're just a bubble in a boiling pot.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SgHxlAaHk-I/AAAAAAAAACg/FgjABl4SwmI/s1600-h/Photo+160.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SgHxlAaHk-I/AAAAAAAAACg/FgjABl4SwmI/s400/Photo+160.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332809051850380258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Today was magical.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Not in a way that I was extremely happy, or really good looking, or feeling wonderful; but because of the just plain weird events that happened throughout. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Lets begin with the beginning of the day. I slept until 6:30. That's the longest I have slept in on a school day since eighth grade. Then I got into a car full of the sweet sound of my favorite musician: Jack Johnson. As banana Pancakes filled the air around me, I made my way to the middle school where I was to teach the young teens to not partake in sexual activities. I honestly do the program for college type recognition, but it turned out being quite fun. I was in charge of the emotional/ mental problems (hahahha), go figure. I'm not convinced the kids won't be having sex, but it was nice for them, and myself, to take a break from regular school for some fun. Not to mention the shirt I was required to wear has a very seductive lady on the front labeled "peers girl." I find it absolutely hilarious. I may include a picture, I'm not sure yet. I also recieved a bracelet that says, "abstain to attain- abstente del sexo" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I'm glad to know we are reaching out to a variety of languages, i am still waiting for my Chen translation though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Anyways, about halfway through we decided to go out to lunch. I was sitting in an Arby's, just drinking my milk shake, when I look over and see a local CVS in the process of being robbed. It was truly incredible. The guy tried to escape, but no such luck. Tons of police cars soon surrounded the place, and he was taken away. Sometimes I wonder how low one must sink in order to make the decision to rob someone. Then I wonder how one goes about deciding which place to choose. I often contemplate these weird situations, because if I were to rob something I need to have an idea of where I'm going to go. I'd probably rob an ice cream store. That way I could order them to make me an  ice cream cone as I took all of the money, and have a nice treat on my way out. I take that back. I would have it in a bowl so it wouldn't be so messy. I would hate to leave a trail. I think there's some movie in which this happens, but the name has escaped my mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;After this exciting robbery, we went back and finished up with our last class. In this one, one of the consequences of having sex in the video we showed was "lack of social life." Some girl turned to me and said, "that's so true. When my momma got pregnant with my little sister, she didn't get to party no more. Now that's just wrong." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;This girl was twelve...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I laughed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Then afterwards, I went to the license branch to receive my license. Now getting a license is supposed to be rather exciting I would think. I was kind of excited. Maybe. I passed the test and then came the moment I dread. The picture. I really just don't enjoy pictures. I find myself to be completely not camera acceptable, and after my permit photo, I knew the beautiful blue background did not do me justice. Vanessa, the DMV lady, handed me my new card, and to my great surprise, I didn't look that hideous. In fact, I look better than a majority of my recent photos. Now sure that isn't saying much, but this little surprise made me quite the happy camper. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Then I went to the doctor for another appointment. Unlike many people, I enjoy the doctor. I don't mind the shots, I like to read all of the charts and discuss the latest medicines and whatnot with the nurses who all know me by name...This is probably not a good sign. But either way, I have swine flu. Just kidding. But i did get new medicine. Which then led me to Target, the super store.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I really enjoy target. I love everything about the cleanliness, the people, the snazzy colors and pictures they display in the lovely shade of green. It's not like those other nasty grocery stores, with the horrendous ugly white and tope based colors, but it's full of reds and greens and pretty floors. I dropped off my prescription, and made my way over to the patio section. I enjoy testing out all of the new stuff to make sure it's acceptable, and see all of the outrageous new designs they've come up with. Then I went to technology. The obvious best place to entertain me for hours. I bought fifty new cd sleeves, a new set of headphones, and some random iPod accessory. Then I went over to the artsy part, and ended up with a pad of patterned paper, a few photo things, and a notebook. Then I went back to pick up my medicine and  checked out with hott cashier named Warren. What a name. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Then I went to McDonalds to buy my mother a diet coke. They said please pull to the first window, and I did but no one ever came. Then I realized it was the next window. But that is technically the second window, so I got really confused as to where I was supposed to go. I really think they should consider labeling those things. However at the third window, where I was supposed to get the drink, I was apparently holding a dollar in my hand and the man with the drink asked if it was his tip. I laughed, seeing to it was a joke. And he smiled and I took the coke. Then he said, "i thought you might help a brother out, seeing to it's his birthday today." So I smiled, said Happy Birthday, and handed over the dollar to my new friend Lawrence. He seemed very pleased. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;So yes, my day so far has been interesting, and it's only three o clock. I just thought I'd share because I'm weird. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;"You're weird. In an attractive, great way."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6773697839619243926-1131055344900626843?l=makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/1131055344900626843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/05/were-just-bubble-in-boiling-pot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/1131055344900626843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/1131055344900626843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/05/were-just-bubble-in-boiling-pot.html' title='we&apos;re just a bubble in a boiling pot.'/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SgHxlAaHk-I/AAAAAAAAACg/FgjABl4SwmI/s72-c/Photo+160.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773697839619243926.post-7453517066043891123</id><published>2009-05-05T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T19:06:43.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the element of surprise.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"That's life. If nothing else, its life. It's real, and sometimes it fuckin' hurts, but it's sort of all we have."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Today I watched garden state, for the third time in two days. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I honestly forgot how much I really love this movie. It's like when you find ten dollars in your pocket. Of course at one point you realized you had the money, but finding it again is just such a little surprise. It makes you so happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I guess I like surprises. I once thought I didn't, but now I think i do. I think only people who truly care about you take the time to surprise you in little ways. It's a silly though, however my secret wish is for someone to love me enough to throw me a surprise party. For someone to take the time and effort to create something especially for me, something I'm not expecting, something magnificent... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Well, that would probably make me the happiest person in the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6773697839619243926-7453517066043891123?l=makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/7453517066043891123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/05/element-of-surprise.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/7453517066043891123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/7453517066043891123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/05/element-of-surprise.html' title='the element of surprise.'/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773697839619243926.post-4894667368936082049</id><published>2009-04-30T15:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T15:21:41.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>let's spend tonight on top of the world.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SfokbBS_fgI/AAAAAAAAAB4/vQx9PQudgVY/s1600-h/tan+adi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SfokbBS_fgI/AAAAAAAAAB4/vQx9PQudgVY/s400/tan+adi.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330613155569565186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I used to be the happiest person i knew. &lt;div&gt;I was positive nearly all the time, and overly joyous over little things I simply loved to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I'm slowly climbing out of the enormous hole I've managed to burrow into. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm trying to reach that intense level of satisfaction that I once wallowed in every day of my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've started to develop new things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New sports. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New goals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New acquaintances.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New tastes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New thoughts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New morals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New beliefs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and most importantly, a new mindset that I intend to live by.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have always been in love with the color grey. I'm now beginning to live by the grey rule. This meaning things aren't always this or that, black or white, right or wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6773697839619243926-4894667368936082049?l=makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/4894667368936082049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/lets-spend-tonight-on-top-of-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/4894667368936082049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/4894667368936082049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/lets-spend-tonight-on-top-of-world.html' title='let&apos;s spend tonight on top of the world.'/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SfokbBS_fgI/AAAAAAAAAB4/vQx9PQudgVY/s72-c/tan+adi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773697839619243926.post-2517917841860554795</id><published>2009-04-23T02:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T03:12:04.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>waiting for my rocket to come.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SfA-2RUWQ4I/AAAAAAAAABw/Iv4RO3QNKko/s1600-h/IM000501.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 248px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SfA-2RUWQ4I/AAAAAAAAABw/Iv4RO3QNKko/s400/IM000501.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327827461261902722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I've written ten posts since last week but I just can't seem to make the decision on which ones to post. It's frustrating. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've come to realize that a lot of time life is obnoxiously frustrating, and it truly rarely makes any sense. I guess I should just keep going through each day. There might not be much more to it. I've started to grasp the mentality that sometimes it's alright to just wait things out. It's typically better to not force things, period. I grasp this topic, but as soon as I can fully adopt it, then I think I'll be set. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm reveling in energy that everyone's emitting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6773697839619243926-2517917841860554795?l=makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/2517917841860554795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/waiting-for-my-rocket-to-come.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/2517917841860554795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/2517917841860554795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/waiting-for-my-rocket-to-come.html' title='waiting for my rocket to come.'/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SfA-2RUWQ4I/AAAAAAAAABw/Iv4RO3QNKko/s72-c/IM000501.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773697839619243926.post-7354247703792773503</id><published>2009-04-13T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T18:59:12.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm just a little stressed out. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's my dilemma. I don't have one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I'm too picky. Not like with food, or clothes, or anything like that. Simply with people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love people so much, but I think my friend put it perfectly when she said "I've realized as a whole i love people, but individually I hate a lot of them." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The problem is, I guess I was unlucky/lucky enough to be exposed to some really wonderful people. This sounds like a wonderful thing, however it's not, because now that I know those few people exist, I can't help but not like the lesser people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe that's mean of me, or maybe I just finally have realized who I like, even if there aren't very many of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's hard for me to settle for less than what I want, and I guess this is just one more situation where I may just end up totally alone at some points.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'd like to think I'll have at least one friend at every point of  my life forever, but I really can't be sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess I've just made the decision to only like the people I really like, and not settle for the people I truly can't stand. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This could either result in me having a fantastic life with those i love, or me being completely alone forever. Notice I didn't say lonely. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know what I feel right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are  just a few thoughts on in my head. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6773697839619243926-7354247703792773503?l=makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/7354247703792773503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/im-just-little-stressed-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/7354247703792773503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/7354247703792773503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/im-just-little-stressed-out.html' title=''/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773697839619243926.post-6365812687608405442</id><published>2009-04-12T13:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T14:53:28.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you don't know me at all.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SeJiwiNsPYI/AAAAAAAAABo/Mv1tChiOvZ8/s1600-h/easter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SeJiwiNsPYI/AAAAAAAAABo/Mv1tChiOvZ8/s400/easter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323926295462821250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hate holidays. Everything about them makes me cringe. The people who use God as a reason to receive presents, and attend church twice a year on those days just to prove to the others that they too really care. The unrealistic lies parents create to tell their children a bunny really does sneak in and leave eggs. What's the point?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Easter weekend I spent with my friend. We watched a variety of movies, and slept for more than the average human ever should. We both have sleeping problems, meaning that we typically don't sleep when we are supposed to, but hey, I guess that just means we always have at least one person to talk to at four in the morning whenever we need something. Either way, she was sick this weekend, and I tried my best to take care of her. That was my Easter weekend up until about two o clock this afternoon, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At two o clock, I received a call from my mother while my friend was sleeping soundly on the floor. She and my dad have been fighting recently about things I really don't understand, and sadly, don't really care about. I was home for maybe ten minutes from Friday until today, when I noticed my mom has a very large bruise under her right eye. She hasn't tried to give an explanation, which is difficult for me to really interpret. She called and asked me what I was doing. I said we were watching movies, which apparently was too farfetched for her to fully grasp and she began the entire interrogation process of her current theory about me being on drugs.  She used to check my nostrils and stuff all the time, but then I guess for a while I was staying at home and everything was fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the thing I really have problems with, are the fact that I am so different from everyone else in my family. I know they are my family, but why should that really require me to spend countless hours ruining their time. I have yet to have a birthday or holiday when none of us have cried, and nearly every single time I am the one to blame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure my mom thinks I’m on drugs, my brother annoys everyone, and my parents can’t get along or agree on anything, but I’ve come to the conclusion that they are honestly so much happier without me. When I’m away, so is the conflict. Maybe in two years, everyone’s stress will go down. The endless disagreeing might be put to rest, simply because I won’t be around enough to care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose holidays are simply an excuse for people to get together and pretend they really like each other. But what I guess my question is why I would go home and be miserable, and ruin everyone else's day, when I could just watch movies and hang out with someone I truly enjoy being with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s really not them, it’s me. I’m just not the same, and I think that truly scares us all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6773697839619243926-6365812687608405442?l=makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/6365812687608405442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/you-dont-know-me-at-all.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/6365812687608405442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/6365812687608405442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/you-dont-know-me-at-all.html' title='you don&apos;t know me at all.'/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SeJiwiNsPYI/AAAAAAAAABo/Mv1tChiOvZ8/s72-c/easter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773697839619243926.post-8634401216040336904</id><published>2009-04-06T02:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T02:43:07.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sleeping to dream.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SdnNxqtaL6I/AAAAAAAAABg/z-IW_T2Ba6c/s1600-h/DSC_0702.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SdnNxqtaL6I/AAAAAAAAABg/z-IW_T2Ba6c/s400/DSC_0702.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321510687876984738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(21, 21, 21);   line-height: 15px; font-family:Helvetica;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;p style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; margin-bottom: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;A few months ago, I started having terrible, horrifying, nightmares every single time i fell asleep. Absolutely disgusting but realistic things would go through my mind every time I shut my eyes. It was horrendous, and I thought I would never be able to sleep normally ever again. Then, I made a new friend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; margin-bottom: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I honestly think, that spending five nights at my new friend's house, made the nightmares go away. The first night, I didn't sleep at all. I remember so vividly tossing and turning, laying in the closet, then sneaking and reading the collection of Emily Dickinson by the light of my phone until eventually someone else woke up, allowing me to stop pretending to sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; margin-bottom: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;The second night, I watched the break up twice in a row. Then we put in crash, and I fell asleep about halfway through. I had terrible nightmares of car crashes, and woke up quite freaked out, confused by my surroundings, right next to my friend, who I know i freaked out when she opened her eyes, and i was staring blankly at her. I would have been freaked out too, but I couldn't explain myself, after all there were other people there, and I wasn't really sure if anyone could understand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; margin-bottom: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I spent the next few weekends somewhere away from where I had spent my last few months. I wasn't home, I was with people I truly enjoyed, people I finally felt connected with, people I could relate to, and felt happy with no matter what I was doing. I wasn't exactly running away from the shadows chasing me, but just sort of turning the lights off and finding some place where I was so distracted with my newfound happiness I didn't think about what was bothering me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; margin-bottom: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I guess running from your problems is never the answer, but taking a break might truly be the key. I found my best friends and spent countless hours every weekend doing simple things that i really enjoyed. Sadly some of that has disappeared, my fault mainly, but I feel I have grown so much from those weekends that it doesn't matter. Running isn't the answer, but escaping for a while to reevaluate, or simply distract, could completely eliminate whatever you might be trying not to face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6773697839619243926-8634401216040336904?l=makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/8634401216040336904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/sleeping-to-dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/8634401216040336904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/8634401216040336904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/sleeping-to-dream.html' title='sleeping to dream.'/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SdnNxqtaL6I/AAAAAAAAABg/z-IW_T2Ba6c/s72-c/DSC_0702.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773697839619243926.post-3607914300868042974</id><published>2009-04-05T12:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T13:27:28.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the last 8 hours.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SdkUAfBZljI/AAAAAAAAABQ/g6XfbKYKokU/s1600-h/birthday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SdkUAfBZljI/AAAAAAAAABQ/g6XfbKYKokU/s400/birthday.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321306433274877490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);   font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;Today is my last day...Well my last day of being fifteen years old that is. The only thing I can seem to do is reflect on my year. After all, it was kind of my "life-changing" year I would have to say. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;I remember my fifteenth birthday quite vividly. I started my first job. At three o clock, I went in and began what would later become a major aspect of my life. I remember I was quite ready for something new, and I know my family was just glad to see me leave the house.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;Allow me tell you a story. When I was fourteen years old I was dumb enough to fall into the trap of young “love.” In reality, I loved the idea of love, and the idea of being needed. On April 1&lt;sup&gt;st&lt;/sup&gt;, after one year exactly of this “love,” it ended, for reasons I really couldn’t control. I took everything out on myself, and developed extreme trust issues. I became severely depressed, and wasn’t able to hardly function. My grades slipped, my health slipped, and my mind slipped beyond anything I ever knew possible. I began to sleep all day as soon as I got home, and ate hardly anything for nearly eight weeks. At this same moment in time, I lost all of my friends, due to stupid reasons I still don’t fully understand. So this takes me to almost June.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;By June I was over it. I spent my entire summer working every morning from nearly 6:00 am to 10:00 am and then again from 4:00 pm to 9:00 pm. Needless to say doing this four times a week, I made quite a bit of money which I didn’t allow myself to use until September. Through my job I met a lot of new people. People my age, who I instantly became great friends with, playing golf after work, and teaching the children how to swing every morning.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;Then there were the old friends, the ones who were actually older than sixty. I helped them out with the computers, and they thought I was an absolute genius. I felt important, actually being able to help someone for once, not needing the help myself. So this went on all summer. I submerged myself with hours, and following that, money. Around August, it started slowing down, and I started my sophomore year of high school. During this period of time, from August to October, I had one specific best friend. I didn’t do a whole lot to be honest. I hung out with my golf team on occasion, but I was kind of still trying to figure everything out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt; Then we move on to November. By this time, school was going well enough and I was overall content. Then I met a new friend. It started with some humorous text conversation. Then a simple video I made as somewhat of a joke. At that time, I didn’t realize what exactly that might grow into.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;Lets move on to December. Over Christmas break, I spent almost every day with my new friend. I spent the night nearly every weekend, and we developed a real friendship. My family was having a difficult time, and I was just sort of staying away. Over Christmas break, two more people flew into Indianapolis, friends of my friend, and I met them as well. It was probably one of the happiest overall weeks of my entire life. We planned something extraordinary, and it made me feel better than I had ever before, I thought I would finally be finding some sort of purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;Then came January. January is kind of a blur to me. It went rather quickly, which it normally doesn’t do, however I guess I’m glad it did. I developed a new hobby of going to wrestling meets, which I then began to enjoy tremendously. I spent every weekend of January and February at some funny high school, watching wrestling and finding the nearest Coldstone to get some Birthday Cake Remix. Then Sunday was typically movie marathon day. This year I not only watched all of the winners and best picture nominees, but every Oscar movie up for an award. Also around this time I stopped drinking carbonation, which to this day I still haven’t picked back up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;Towards February, I had a sort of identity crisis. I became someone that maybe I wanted to be, simply because the new lifestyle I had grown into was better than my own. I went a bit too far, and unintentionally became someone I was indeed not. I went through a rough patch, a day by day lifestyle. Sometimes I was extremely depressed, simply because I knew what I had brought upon myself, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Big plans had been cancelled, and I felt a little helpless&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;This brings me to last month, March. I think I eventually figured it out, I was a new person, but I had become me. I had established my true opinion, my style if you will. I had begun to realize what I truly stood for, and what I liked and didn’t like, without other personal influences. Sure I shared interests with other people, but that’s the kind of interaction that creates friends.  During this past month, old ideas were brought up again, I was able to be involved without being obsessive, something I struggled so desperately with before.  Different subjects talked about that gave me hope, hopefully not a false hope, but hope for something to look forward to. On the last day of March, I took a trip to Fl. Originally I was planning on driving to Fl with my friend, but due to a situation with my mother, I was unable to go, assuming I wanted to go anywhere else in the near future. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;Over the trip, I think I found out a lot about myself. Over the week, I felt like I was truly a friend. I felt as if my opinion actually mattered in something. I felt like someone came to me, for once, and that made me extremely satisfied. I think I finally know who my best friends are. We are a strange group, that’s for sure, but I think it’s finally been established in my mind. It’s funny how when you are away and only around the people you are supposed to love, you realize the few that you truly love.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;So today is my last day being fifteen years old. I think this past year has been the most influential one yet. My year being fifteen has morphed me into the person I hope to be for the rest of my life...or at least until i turn a new age. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6773697839619243926-3607914300868042974?l=makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/3607914300868042974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/last-8-hours.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/3607914300868042974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/3607914300868042974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/last-8-hours.html' title='the last 8 hours.'/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SdkUAfBZljI/AAAAAAAAABQ/g6XfbKYKokU/s72-c/birthday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6773697839619243926.post-740273079693478127</id><published>2009-04-04T13:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T16:25:47.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SdfrhzXIkoI/AAAAAAAAAAk/FrO8aoPQtlk/s1600-h/DSC00679.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SdfrX2wZAcI/AAAAAAAAAAc/yPS_Yxbpwmk/s1600-h/DSC00646.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 130px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SdfrX2wZAcI/AAAAAAAAAAc/yPS_Yxbpwmk/s320/DSC00646.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320980279829529026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sometimes I think I'm only living to prepare for what comes next. This then causes me to believe I may never arrive anywhere. My entire life I have lived thinking of what would come after each and every moment. I don't act on impulse, I over-think and I plan. I never live in the moment. I'm beginning to wonder if sometimes it's alright to just let yourself go and do what you want right when you want it. Then I come back to my mind and realize the consequences that those decisions could possibly result in. By this time the moment is usually over and I am left behind. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was born into a family of planners. I have a day planner, and I right down everything I plan to do. It's becoming so bad I feel as if I need to start planning blocks of time simply labeled "fun." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since middle school I've begun researching colleges and looking every day at different places I could be in a few years. I've tried to set myself up to become successful. But then I start to wonder what my "successful" really contains. There are some people who simply want to be happy. Then we get into "well, what is happiness." I've decided that my happiness is success, but my success, is still undetermined. What am I honestly going to do in my life?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today my friend and I listened to a song I had never heard before. He looks at me and says, "I really love this song, because it's all about leaving your mark, and that's all I really want to do."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought about his statement and decided I'm probably not the type to leave her mark. I'm not spectacular, and in the eyes of the world, maybe I'm boring. I have my own interests, but I'm not sporadic or crazy or on the verge of something fantastic. I can't write random songs on the spot about my friends, or write a mind-blowing article in a week to impact the world. I've never created a masterpiece of art, or won a championship game at the last minute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm good at following rules, and sticking with what will better me for the next step of my life. But when do I finish the steps? This isn't a 12-step program I'm court-ordered to complete, it's my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I often contemplate being amazing. How exciting it would truly be to cure a deadly disease or write a bestseller or sculpt something spectacular. The rush I would receive from bettering the people of this crazy world. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I want to quit this step program I've created for life. I shouldn't have to schedule excitement, I should go out and create it. I shouldn't live for the next chapter, but instead enjoy where I am when I am there. I should live a little, and not be the one left behind for taking too long to make a decision. I want to be that free spirited and exotic person that just goes with the flow...Or do i?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6773697839619243926-740273079693478127?l=makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/feeds/740273079693478127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/sometimes-i-think-im-only-living-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/740273079693478127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6773697839619243926/posts/default/740273079693478127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makingmywaytonormal.blogspot.com/2009/04/sometimes-i-think-im-only-living-to.html' title=''/><author><name>adri_grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11456649112345453129</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/Sdg0CR6jL1I/AAAAAAAAAAw/R1BbLCDKdL8/S220/IMG_1685.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CzXh-kDKN7w/SdfrX2wZAcI/AAAAAAAAAAc/yPS_Yxbpwmk/s72-c/DSC00646.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
