<?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-4334278347385800572</id><updated>2011-07-07T23:49:59.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>untitled.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>42</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-558321586356501701</id><published>2010-06-09T23:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-09T23:36:03.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>disdain</title><content type='html'>"You do. What you tell me about in the nights. That is not love. That is only passion and lust. When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve."&lt;br /&gt;-e. hemmingway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am so &lt;br /&gt;confused. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 and 1/2 years later today was the last day of my internship.  pretty crazy.  interesting, shattering, and through thousands of rebirths there has been some sort of dynamic shift, though it hasnt completely developed im in quite and interesting place.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how is it i have learned so much about you- the things you dont "know"- i, understanding how much more there is to  know, finding everyone to be exceedingly retarded.  reminds me of the einstein quote.  more or less.  it is really becoming an annoyance to my personal happiness being so disgusted by certain human behavior and how far away we have come from knowing ourselves and others by allowing this infestation of distraction take over our lives.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think you all need to buck the fuck up, grab your balls or knockers and stop being such a pussy.  there are worse things out there.  but it seems so many are so self consumed.  you cowards.  pft.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-558321586356501701?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/558321586356501701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2010/06/disdain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/558321586356501701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/558321586356501701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2010/06/disdain.html' title='disdain'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-990934796153631644</id><published>2009-11-30T23:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T00:21:41.828-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"youth is wasted on the young"</title><content type='html'>perhaps.  though i cant help but have two different viewpoints.  this inner conflict of truth, though its not really; maybe instead it is a matter of free will or maybe it is free will vs. predetermination.  my train of thought, though intelligible to me seems to not be able to find the language to describe emotion or feeling.  i've been youtubing waking life for the past 2 hours (in which time i could have watched the whole movie again, which is something i have been meaning to do as i find in life somehow you relate in different ways, understanding themes/subjects in a different light/perspective as you gain experience and grow) and coming back from these tangents i have a tendency to divert upon here is what i mean about language:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nKFW5OkJb4U&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nKFW5OkJb4U&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so anyhow, what is it then that led george bernard shaw to make such a statement?  could it be true? does the angst and for the most part horrific events (if you are so lucky to experience them, seriously, which is what i present as the very dilemma) of the collaboration of past events and experiences which created ones experience of adolescents and young adulthood hold you back?  has the time been wasted away in melancholy and distress?  have we gone so far beyond reality, what the world has to offer, what we have to offer that our youth has been wasted? the experience deemed unworthy and implied as a shame?  to a certain extent in looking at this from the perspective george over here, yes we are at our peak of physical fitness/stamina, the world is always at our fingertips although we push this to the side and focus soley on our own fables of life that we believe at the time to revolve around ourselves- but what about the experience?  how could it have been "wasted"?  its true that perhaps we dwell too long, we dont know much about life yet, maybe we havent grown "wise" yet but such is the beauty of life, no?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have found my greatest strengths come from my greatest sorrows.  my courage from the lack their of, my soul and spirit from not giving a shit, my respect from having none, my love from being without, the beauty of life from watching death... has this not made me grow?  is this experience to be considered something that was a waste of my time?  should i have become another one of those people?  someone who has nothing and only adds to the populace?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;youth is not wasted on the young; it is true if we had more life experience we probably would have taken more advantage of our youthful days but here's the deal... we dont.  point being, how can something that is so intricately woven as something human (experience in whatever form) ever be wasted at all?  and i think this is where self determination and free will kicks in.  it seems to me that the concept of predetermination can be all of the events and experiences where one has no control over the situation- you have simply done what you can, it did/didnt work for whatever reason and no matter how hard you push it is like the universe is slapping you in the face with a big fuckin NO in the end.  that maybe can be predetermination (im not g-d, i dont know and anyone who will tell you they do is completely disillusioned or has a false sense of security they hold onto so as to not take responsibility for ones actions.  the fact of the matter is, we have these experiences where there is absolutely nothing you can do about it except for ONE IMPORTANT CONCEPT: you can always learn. now here is where you either become like all those other mindless people in the world or when you make probably one of the most significant changes in your life.  from everything we see as a curse there is a blessing, the opportunity to learn, to grow, and to change.  this is free will- this is where your universe, the reality you create for yourself manifests.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the real question stands:&lt;br /&gt;what will you choose?&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;was it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hint:  the answer is “Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.” and absolutely.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-990934796153631644?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/990934796153631644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/11/youth-is-wasted-on-young.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/990934796153631644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/990934796153631644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/11/youth-is-wasted-on-young.html' title='&quot;youth is wasted on the young&quot;'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-5072205650236510338</id><published>2009-11-30T21:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T22:07:41.685-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a conviction</title><content type='html'>“I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pfEuSNejejY&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pfEuSNejejY&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-5072205650236510338?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/5072205650236510338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-love-you-and-because-i-love-you-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5072205650236510338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5072205650236510338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-love-you-and-because-i-love-you-i.html' title='a conviction'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-8257815705908790837</id><published>2009-10-31T01:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T01:51:58.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>right?</title><content type='html'>im feeling somewhat confused or rather at a loss  im not really quite sure what is going on its like the days are blurred together and every one i say well tomorrow, well tomorrow and then tomorrow is here and then it becomes yesterday and now i just keep going thinking about these sorts of things about not smoking cigarettes standing on my porch debating myself when i give in anyway in t he swiftest motion.  when language stops you can just go go go and not think or do.  im really very tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-8257815705908790837?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/8257815705908790837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/10/right.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/8257815705908790837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/8257815705908790837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/10/right.html' title='right?'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-2969386316192127905</id><published>2009-10-07T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T22:35:56.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Spirit Prayer:</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/Ss16N9yF8pI/AAAAAAAAABQ/Bfd9MYlXrhc/s1600-h/94001098.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 321px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/Ss16N9yF8pI/AAAAAAAAABQ/Bfd9MYlXrhc/s400/94001098.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390098709373907602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the wind,&lt;br /&gt;Whose breath gives life to all the world.&lt;br /&gt;Hear me; I need your strength and wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset.&lt;br /&gt;Make my hands respect the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice&lt;br /&gt;Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught my people.&lt;br /&gt;Help me to remain calm and strong in the face of all that comes towards me.&lt;br /&gt;Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock.&lt;br /&gt;Help me seek pure thoughts and act with the intention of helping others.&lt;br /&gt;Help me find compassion without empathy overwhelming me.&lt;br /&gt;I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy&lt;br /&gt;Myself.&lt;br /&gt;Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes.&lt;br /&gt;So when life fades, as the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-2969386316192127905?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/2969386316192127905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/10/great-spirit-prayer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/2969386316192127905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/2969386316192127905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/10/great-spirit-prayer.html' title='Great Spirit Prayer:'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/Ss16N9yF8pI/AAAAAAAAABQ/Bfd9MYlXrhc/s72-c/94001098.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-3884389521133137559</id><published>2009-09-27T14:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T14:03:16.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>if i have ever done anything to hurt you</title><content type='html'>please find it in your heart to forgive me for i am truly and utterly beyond words, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You can't undo anything you've already done, but you can face up to it. You can tell the truth. You can seek forgiveness. And then let God do the rest.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How does one know if she has forgiven? You tend to feel sorrow over the circumstance instead of rage, you tend to feel sorry for the person rather than angry with him. You tend to have nothing left to say about it all.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-3884389521133137559?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/3884389521133137559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/09/if-i-have-ever-done-anything-to-hurt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3884389521133137559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3884389521133137559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/09/if-i-have-ever-done-anything-to-hurt.html' title='if i have ever done anything to hurt you'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-423052124075357754</id><published>2009-09-27T00:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T00:11:02.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'>keep on believing:</title><content type='html'>everything is alive so that I can be alive:&lt;br /&gt;without moving I can see it all:&lt;br /&gt;in your life I see everything that lives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-423052124075357754?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/423052124075357754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/09/keep-on-believing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/423052124075357754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/423052124075357754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/09/keep-on-believing.html' title='keep on believing:'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-4191661744078841656</id><published>2009-09-23T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T21:40:42.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this ones for me/you</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/Srr4QYEf3YI/AAAAAAAAABA/4AlJ0LcnnUE/s1600-h/eca0ddb001ce38b5de92c37922fc2f261b4c602a_s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 105px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/Srr4QYEf3YI/AAAAAAAAABA/4AlJ0LcnnUE/s320/eca0ddb001ce38b5de92c37922fc2f261b4c602a_s.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384889264697761154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-4191661744078841656?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/4191661744078841656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-ones-for-meyou.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/4191661744078841656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/4191661744078841656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-ones-for-meyou.html' title='this ones for me/you'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/Srr4QYEf3YI/AAAAAAAAABA/4AlJ0LcnnUE/s72-c/eca0ddb001ce38b5de92c37922fc2f261b4c602a_s.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-2145658992622203338</id><published>2009-09-22T01:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T01:12:50.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>when did you forget you were a flower?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SriGnerbLMI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ISOkX90R5Hs/s1600-h/9710320d35c86e3f3b923c15deb142c9dc3fe389_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SriGnerbLMI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ISOkX90R5Hs/s320/9710320d35c86e3f3b923c15deb142c9dc3fe389_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384201367329647810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Elizabeth's voice had a door in it. When you opened that door you found another door, and that door opened yet another door. All the doors were nice and led out of her."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-2145658992622203338?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/2145658992622203338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/09/when-did-you-forget-you-were-flower.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/2145658992622203338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/2145658992622203338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/09/when-did-you-forget-you-were-flower.html' title='when did you forget you were a flower?'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SriGnerbLMI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ISOkX90R5Hs/s72-c/9710320d35c86e3f3b923c15deb142c9dc3fe389_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-3516480733260445662</id><published>2009-08-28T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T23:08:55.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>communication is not verbal-</title><content type='html'>today was my last official day of work at the long island Alzheimer's foundation.  though i will most likely be staying with them for my internship this coming year i cant help but interpret all of this as something so much larger than what it seems to be to the typical human eye.  this summer has, actually this 21st year ....7+7+7:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(In the Hebrew, seven ([b'v, - Sheh'-bah) is from a root word meaning to be complete or full. This can be clearly seen from the first time a varient of this word is used in the Bible..God rested on the seventh day because his work of creation was complete, entire, perfect. Thus seven represents this perfect completeness and also it represents rest, as in the rest that is taken from work. It is from this same word that the Sabbath, the day of rest comes. But as well as this spiritual perfection, seven seems also to be used in another way in scripture.  Patterns of sevens run through the scripture more abundantly than any other number. Where patterns of other numbers run through a scripture it is often symbolic of something to do with that number, however patterns of seven about all through scripture to the extent that it could be seen as being a part of God's seal that the writing is indeed scripture. Thus seven might also be known as the number of God's seal.  God rested on the seventh day because his work of creation was complete, entire, perfect. Thus seven represents this perfect completeness and also it represents rest, as in the rest that is taken from work. It is from this same word that the Sabbath, the day of rest comes. But as well as this spiritual perfection, seven seems also to be used in another way in scripture.  seven is of course Spiritual perfection and so adequately represents the holy Spirit itself. seven is symbolically the seal of God in scripture and in the believer as well)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so getting back to my train of thought, this year has been almost an ending to the chapter of the first period of my life and is now taking on a completely different form (though with its background and past experiences) and developing into a whole different level of consciousness.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;working at the foundation has not only helped my realize my healing in the physical realm but in the spiritual realm as well.  its almost as if it has given me the greatest gift i have ever received (which is true that helping someone who will never be able to repay you is probably the best thing you can ever do, not only for the humility of it, but for yourself as well).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is most interesting to me, that the people who are closer to death become more "real" because there is no time for nonsense, which is something i have understood my whole life.. and not nonsense in the fun nonsensical kind of way, but in the way of pretending to be someone you are not, or putting on a facade, or falling farther away from your essence for whatever reason you deem necessary.  i suppose since my mother was ill this had all become very real to me at an early age and i have matured in that sense much faster than most people my age.  if we release our ego, the negative aspects of the ego i mean, we become real and more tangible though people who have not experienced this will see it as more illusory it is only because they are living in their own illusion of how the world is and how they should be- when in reality all you have to be is completely yourself, that is what makes everyone a piece of the divine.  it is hard for most i assume, as it has been a very tumultuous ride for me as well to get rid of this "ego" and perhaps not completely but to the extent where you develop this deeper understanding and you become more kind and compassionate not only to others but yourself as well because you really in your heart of hearts want everyone who is suffering to have this slice of heaven that is indeed in their grasp but so far out of their vision.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so what im trying to say is when you communicate with someone, and i mean really communicate, you dont even really have to say anything at all- all you have to do is be comfortable with who you are and trust your inner knowing because that is all that is truth.  in turn people (ie: my clients) feel this energy and love and compassion and words lose most of their meaning and instead we dance in this sort of energetic and spiritual realm unbeknownst to many humans who are too caught up in themselves and their own intimate lives that they will rarely experience this sort of larger than life beauty that is there if they just pay attention!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i find that i get along so well with older people, and i mean older, because they have already experienced this sort of beauty even if it took them 80 years to learn, we bond in this sort of "knowing".  dont get me wrong i work with 80 year old people who still have no sense of it... but i can only feel sorry and love them anyway because they have never been able to experience this divinity.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this reminds me of a sentence in the book Of Laughter and Forgetting by Milan Kundera where he explains that things of delicate nature hold such beauty... i wish i had the exact quotation but i lent the book to jessica who is thoroughly enjoying it... and so rather i will leave this quotation instead:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All human things of dearest value hang on slender strings"&lt;br /&gt;-Edmund Waller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;above all else, always always trust yourself;&lt;br /&gt;once you do, all of these things fall into place, you meet certain people, they say certain things, somehow you connect and communicate even when it seems impossible and, and, its all just so magical.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i met this boy about 6 years ago on the dock by the beach while i was reading a book.  he was taking out his canoe and asked me if i wanted to go for a ride; i said yes, knowing somehow this moment was supposed to happen and he rowed us all the way across the bay to this beautiful country club... i gave him my number knowing he was interested and that i would probably never call (something in my young days when i felt too guilty to just say no) anyway, we ran into each other last week at the same spot at the same beach, and i remembered him... after brief conversation, and him asking me for a ride (rather, bringing up the fact that i indeed never did respond to his phone calls, and making me feel bad, though i didnt mind helping him out anyway) we walked to my car... i told him how i remembered how different he was, how exceedingly intelligent and how behind his new style consisting of a danzig shit, long blonde hair, and a sick metal goatee i hoped he hadnt lost it.  after he told me that sometimes things are said a little too late he looked at me and said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"just remember one thing:  whenever in doubt, always go left; never go right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and im pretty sure this was all in the plan 6 years ago when i was reading my book, he said hello, and i got on a little canoe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i ask you this:  how can you not love this world?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-3516480733260445662?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/3516480733260445662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/08/communication-is-not-verbal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3516480733260445662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3516480733260445662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/08/communication-is-not-verbal.html' title='communication is not verbal-'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-8272031130433007625</id><published>2009-07-31T16:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T16:07:43.904-07:00</updated><title type='text'>?</title><content type='html'>and he said, "blah blah blah, blah blah."  and i said "FUCK YOU."  and he thought, nothing- and i thought, long; long and hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-8272031130433007625?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/8272031130433007625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/8272031130433007625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/8272031130433007625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html' title='?'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-5675805351232020678</id><published>2009-07-18T23:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T23:37:19.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>synchronicity.</title><content type='html'>i follow footsteps to the Water- &lt;br /&gt;it seems i have been here before&lt;br /&gt; the sounds of hushed voices reach shore and fall back to their homes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we speak like this. &lt;br /&gt;moving in and out of Ourselves-&lt;br /&gt; watching vultures soar &lt;br /&gt;and prey we are if we aren’t aware.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we find ourselves in communications of spirit.&lt;br /&gt; a breeze gliding through the forest &lt;br /&gt;fustling leaves and psychedelic pupil dilated rapture. &lt;br /&gt;we feel it against our skins like an answered prayer; &lt;br /&gt;a glimpse of truth.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fluid and life are abstract in my underwater world- &lt;br /&gt;there is nothing, (not even weight) &lt;br /&gt;and these shoulders are light and strong and agile  &lt;br /&gt;and my essance is that of Hers and We unify and She brings me under Her velvet cloak. &lt;br /&gt;We make love like this&lt;br /&gt;We become each other and G-d is smiling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i float on my back, &lt;br /&gt;She lulls me to sleep in this kind of motion and my voice collides to shore.&lt;br /&gt;someone else has heard me.&lt;br /&gt;it seems she has been here before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(a bit of editing needed, but really almost quite there)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-5675805351232020678?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/5675805351232020678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/07/synchronicity.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5675805351232020678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5675805351232020678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/07/synchronicity.html' title='synchronicity.'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-7982387568843719489</id><published>2009-07-18T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T23:25:42.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>who gives a shit. thats the real answer.</title><content type='html'>you teach me these lessons through specific people and its like this crazy beautiful synchronized thing.  being disappointed in someone, "i thought you were...".  even the people we respect become so very human when they aren't fully aware.  we wonder, "how could this be?" and after much consideration and silence and smoke we come to realizations.  "it does not work because..." and we are relieved of our burning ego's and distractions and the anxiety was for nothing and everything was nothing but it was just so beautiful to epiphanize (yup making up my own words) and grow.  another stage. a hight level of consciousness.  glory glory hallelujah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-7982387568843719489?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/7982387568843719489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/07/who-gives-shit-thats-real-answer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/7982387568843719489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/7982387568843719489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/07/who-gives-shit-thats-real-answer.html' title='who gives a shit. thats the real answer.'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-5997541048082639921</id><published>2009-07-10T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T22:11:11.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the universe: a provider</title><content type='html'>so it goes something like this: if you put the intention out there, i mean really pure intention that isn't driven really by the ego, rather, the essence/soul the universe becomes your true provider.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on another note, i really enjoy my job- i couldn't even ask for a better one at the moment.  its like the job title is just "be yourself linda" aha. all i have to do is really love them all (which is both energizing and draining).  which led me to this sort of small epiphany tonight:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was driving back towards roslyn dropping sharon off at her house and we were listening to this one song in particular (lived in bars by cat power) telling her these days its been my favorite song, how its so fun and wonderful and lyrically beautiful even though her words are depressing... you're happy and your sad and you feel everything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(and then a glimpse of the meditation retreat comes back and you remember her saying something along the lines of how when you are happy if you are completely present at the same conscious moment you see what is sad vice versa... how this is harmony)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;somehow these thoughts ran through my head and it came together with the music and i realized i was feeling every emotion at the same time, continuously- and i felt, so very very alive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-5997541048082639921?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/5997541048082639921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/07/universe-provider.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5997541048082639921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5997541048082639921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/07/universe-provider.html' title='the universe: a provider'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-1159044515972983276</id><published>2009-06-11T23:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T23:55:54.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Genesis:</title><content type='html'>This one at last,&lt;br /&gt;Bone of my bones,&lt;br /&gt;Flesh of my flesh-&lt;br /&gt;i have already taken the bite:&lt;br /&gt;and Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-1159044515972983276?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/1159044515972983276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/06/genesis.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/1159044515972983276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/1159044515972983276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/06/genesis.html' title='Genesis:'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-7243537473526200430</id><published>2009-06-11T23:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T23:54:11.694-07:00</updated><title type='text'>untitled</title><content type='html'>i confer too much to the echos of  my chest cavity-&lt;br /&gt;we dilberate and I say&lt;br /&gt;youre screwing me around,&lt;br /&gt;my voice aint the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you speak to me in forms of pressure&lt;br /&gt;a giant lump of mass &lt;br /&gt;taking place of arteries and air and breath&lt;br /&gt;my lungs-&lt;br /&gt;about to collapse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you rot away in containment.&lt;br /&gt;you settle under concave bones and turbulance and you are screaming and laughing and maniacal in undertones of sobs and wails and &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;space&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and you know no one cares to care&lt;br /&gt;and your hands are only flesh&lt;br /&gt;even touching makes way to a poem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-7243537473526200430?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/7243537473526200430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/06/untitled.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/7243537473526200430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/7243537473526200430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/06/untitled.html' title='untitled'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-257110921292032257</id><published>2009-05-25T22:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T22:58:04.593-07:00</updated><title type='text'>summer in the city</title><content type='html'>i've been listening to a lot of regina spektor recently.  and so i signed up for this little thing on the internet where you get a positive message in your email everyday and it went as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you're really honest, Linda, you have to admit that things today, in your most amazing life, at this most amazing time in history, are far better than they've ever, ever been."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how cute is that?! and in all honesty i have never, ever, been happier.  if only more people knew their power and the power of the universe... new perspectives can completely change youre life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hoping youre just as happy-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-257110921292032257?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/257110921292032257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/05/summer-in-city.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/257110921292032257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/257110921292032257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/05/summer-in-city.html' title='summer in the city'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-3700894577272495880</id><published>2009-05-05T23:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T23:41:23.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>all by myself</title><content type='html'>contrary to the song lyrics i really enjoy spending time with myself. i forgot how fun i was.  i went to see the soloist tonight- it was alright; the concept was really great but i think they could have delved into the character more.  the music was phenomenal though.  there were only about 6 other people in the theatre which was nice.  id really like to go to the orchestra.  i suppose since my summer has officially started, i can find sometime to go.  and so i was telling myself i wanted to start playing the violin again and to put off the procrastination i would just go and play at the beach.  i think it sounds like a great idea.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing left to say,&lt;br /&gt;linda&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-3700894577272495880?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/3700894577272495880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/05/all-by-myself.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3700894577272495880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3700894577272495880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/05/all-by-myself.html' title='all by myself'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-2458429850755890613</id><published>2009-04-29T00:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T00:26:44.642-07:00</updated><title type='text'>one more week</title><content type='html'>i wish you all saw in me what i see in myself.&lt;br /&gt;ha!&lt;br /&gt;what a funny form of conceit.  &lt;br /&gt;not conceit, &lt;br /&gt;i think,&lt;br /&gt;just;&lt;br /&gt;clarity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today was fun.  i went out with danielle de barbarac.  nicole de loncre; whatever.  i have to wake up in less than five hours and go to my last day at my internship... though i spoke to my field advisor and she told me she would find out if the nassau correctional facility (jail) has any social work internships for next semester! i can only hope so much that i get it.  i also hopefully (fingers crossed) am setting up another open mic night- this one is only going to be poetry- at a bar.  some 32 year old boy also slapped my cigarette out of my hand, which in turn proved to be a fucking HI larious experience when not a moment later danielle slapped him across the face.  do you know what i think is funny? something i think most people dont really understand- the fact that someone could be so upset and agitated and angry at something i do or say when i dont give a shit.  being such a wonderful person makes me feel bad that i dont care (the funny part) but sometimes the comedic genius overpowers that and i succumb to a primal earthly desire knowing i am better than everyone else. yup. i said it. i love love love making people feel good- but i (secretly) love love love watching certain people crumble in my hands when they deserve it.  im turning into a serious brown person. i love the summer. woo woo yeeeee haw.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-2458429850755890613?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/2458429850755890613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-wish-you-all-saw-in-me-what-i-see-in.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/2458429850755890613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/2458429850755890613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-wish-you-all-saw-in-me-what-i-see-in.html' title='one more week'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-3435035482802059018</id><published>2009-04-11T23:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T00:16:00.685-07:00</updated><title type='text'>living in disturbia</title><content type='html'>theres this really great quote from the movie waking life that i think just about sums up this feeling ive been having concerning my disappointments in human beings around the globe and their lack of human-being-ness:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can't fight city hall." "Death and taxes." "Don't talk about politics or religion." This is all the equivalent of enemy propaganda, rolling across the picket line. "Lay down, GI! Lay down, GI!". We saw it all through the 20th Century. And now on the 21st Century, it's time to stand up and realize, that we should NOT allow ourselves to be crammed into this rat maze. We should not SUBMIT to dehumanization. I don't know about you, but I'm concerned with what's happening in this world. I'm concerned with the structure. I'm concerned with the systems of control. Those that control my life, and those that seek to control it EVEN MORE! I want FREEDOM! That's what I want, and that's what YOU should want! It's up to each and every one of us to turn loose of just some of the greed, the hatred, the envy, and yes, the insecurities, because that is the central mode of control, make us feel pathetic, small, so we'll willingly give up our sovereignty, our liberty, our destiny. We have GOT to realize we're being conditioned on a mass scale. Start challenging this corporate slave state! The 21st Century's gonna be a new century! Not the century of slavery, not the century of lies and issues of no significance, of classism and statism, and all the rest of the modes of control... it's gonna be the age of humankind, standing up for something PURE and something RIGHT! What a bunch of garbage, liberal, Democratic, conservative, Republican, it's all there to control you, two sides of the same coin! Two management teams, bidding for control of the CEO job of Slavery Incorporated! The TRUTH is out there in front of you, but they lay out this buffet of LIES! I'm SICK of it, and I'M NOT GONNA TAKE A BITE OUT OF IT! DO YA GOT ME? Resistance is NOT futile, we're gonna win this thing, humankind is too good, WE'RE NOT A BUNCH OF UNDERACHIEVERS, WE'RE GONNA STAND UP, AND WE'RE GONNA BE HUMAN BEINGS! WE'RE GONNA GET FIRED UP ABOUT THE REAL THINGS, THE THINGS THAT MATTER - CREATIVITY, AND THE *DYNAMIC* *HUMAN* *SPIRIT* THAT REFUSES TO *SUBMIT*! WELL THAT'S IT, that's all I've got to say. It's in your court now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;verily, you should watch this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4PpMdTmVMpo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4PpMdTmVMpo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont even know what to say.  the whole concept of people who are easily brainwashed sickens me- i dont even think sicken is the right word, there is no word for it except to say id rather die than be around for that to happen- thats not true, id probably work some crazy underground job to have humans become real again... and then i would probably be assassinated.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes i think i am one of the very very few who can grasp the concept of truth, and that the fate/weight of the world rests on my shoulders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;also, has anyone read the unbearable lightness of being?  if not you should- you close the book and wonder what the point was and then realize you are still thinking about it 3 weeks later- it resonates.  anyway, what i want to know is, for those of you who have read it, in the beginning they talk of beethovens piece, Der schwer gefasste Entschluss translated to "the difficult or weighty solution" does anyone have access to this or can download it and send it my way- i have been trying to no avail.  i think the title is actually opus 135 in F major.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The weighty resolution is at one &lt;br /&gt;with the voice of Fate (`Es muss sein!'); necessity, weight, and value are three concepts &lt;br /&gt;inextricably bound: only necessity is heavy, and only what is heavy has value. (33) "-carey henson literary review&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love pain.  not in that creepy way, but in the way that it is so beautiful.  everything "heavy" is what makes you a better person, what makes you more real and human and most importantly makes you grow as a person.  i think if everyone appreciated what they have experienced more and left out the bitterness it can be a very spiritual experience.  you will never know happiness if you never experience true suffering- yin and yang- and all of those other things concerning balance.  THERE IS SO MUCH MORE TO KNOW- i thirst for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on another note, i pulled some muscles in my rib cage or something, it hurts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-3435035482802059018?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/3435035482802059018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/04/living-in-disturbia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3435035482802059018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3435035482802059018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/04/living-in-disturbia.html' title='living in disturbia'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-8526460312049325407</id><published>2009-04-11T01:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T01:47:48.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the absolution of birds</title><content type='html'>There are things we, as a people, never talk about-&lt;br /&gt;But this is an absolution and&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The birds carry my secrets,&lt;br /&gt;I whisper to them and they flutter off somewhere in the distant skyline-&lt;br /&gt;Turning from a black spec to blue, disappearing-&lt;br /&gt;Gliding on spirit-&lt;br /&gt;My Sentiments,&lt;br /&gt;Resounding in the wind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first bird came to me when I was four years old-&lt;br /&gt;Iocking myself in the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;I remember it still-&lt;br /&gt;Screaming, slamming, leaving. &lt;br /&gt;Little old Linda,&lt;br /&gt;In a corner of the bathroom-&lt;br /&gt;Sweating on the tiled floor &lt;br /&gt;There are no ways to drown out noise-&lt;br /&gt;Even with the shower running&lt;br /&gt;I can still hear it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother cracks the sideview mirror of my mothers car with his skateboart -&lt;br /&gt;My father found 76 extasy pills in his room and flushed them down the toilet,&lt;br /&gt;Crying.&lt;br /&gt;Bird two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He slapped me across my face-&lt;br /&gt;Finally I lunged my body towards his-&lt;br /&gt;Told him he was good for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;I got a three pages of apologies the next day from my father,&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere amongst my greatest possessions-&lt;br /&gt;I still have it.&lt;br /&gt;Bird three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amongst my panic attacks, the pacing, and the fetal position there have been millions of sparrows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me he loved me-&lt;br /&gt;13 more birds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was My mother- &lt;br /&gt;My most prized treasure, my secret keeper-&lt;br /&gt;Who Became my most beautiful song-&lt;br /&gt;She tells me she is dying -and &lt;br /&gt;As a grown adult I grapple to her legs and wish to peel every inch of my skin off&lt;br /&gt;Screaming  G-D &lt;br /&gt;I DON’T WANT ANY MORE FUCKING BIRDS.&lt;br /&gt;I only want a voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am no venus de milo-&lt;br /&gt;But I have nothing to hold onto&lt;br /&gt;Another bird.&lt;br /&gt;(Even silence slips through my fingers)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-8526460312049325407?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/8526460312049325407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/04/absolution-of-birds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/8526460312049325407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/8526460312049325407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/04/absolution-of-birds.html' title='the absolution of birds'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-1336841722449621319</id><published>2009-03-31T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T20:21:14.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the desiderata</title><content type='html'>Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,&lt;br /&gt;and remember what peace there may be in silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as possible, without surrender,&lt;br /&gt;be on good terms with all persons.&lt;br /&gt;Speak your truth quietly and clearly&lt;br /&gt;and listen to the ignorant;&lt;br /&gt;they too have their story.&lt;br /&gt;Avoid loud and aggressive persons;&lt;br /&gt;they are vexatious to the spirit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you compare yourself with others,&lt;br /&gt;you may become vain or bitter,&lt;br /&gt;for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.&lt;br /&gt;Keep interested in your own career, however humble;&lt;br /&gt;it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exercise caution in your business affairs,&lt;br /&gt;for the world is full of trickery.&lt;br /&gt;But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;&lt;br /&gt;many persons strive for high ideals,&lt;br /&gt;and everywhere life if full of heroism.&lt;br /&gt;Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.&lt;br /&gt;Neither be cynical about love,&lt;br /&gt;for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,&lt;br /&gt;it is as perennial as the grass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take kindly the counsel of the years,&lt;br /&gt;gracefully surrendering the things of youth.&lt;br /&gt;Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.&lt;br /&gt;But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.&lt;br /&gt;Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyond a wholesome discipline,&lt;br /&gt;be gentle with yourself.&lt;br /&gt;You are a child of the universe,&lt;br /&gt;no less than the trees and the stars;&lt;br /&gt;you have a right to be here.&lt;br /&gt;And whether or not it is clear to you,&lt;br /&gt;no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore be at peace with God,&lt;br /&gt;whatever you conceive Him to be.&lt;br /&gt;And whatever your labors and aspirations, &lt;br /&gt;in the noisy confusion of life,&lt;br /&gt;keep peace in your soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,&lt;br /&gt;it is still a beautiul world.&lt;br /&gt;Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-max ehrmann&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-1336841722449621319?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/1336841722449621319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/desiderata.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/1336841722449621319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/1336841722449621319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/desiderata.html' title='the desiderata'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-5777462005582156458</id><published>2009-03-19T17:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T17:20:43.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the open mic night!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/ScLgQDjG5mI/AAAAAAAAAAw/jpPunyj-7f0/s1600-h/img002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 251px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/ScLgQDjG5mI/AAAAAAAAAAw/jpPunyj-7f0/s320/img002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315057076685694562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by the way it says: featured poet richard newman. entertainment dj blackout. march 26, 9:00 pm- $5 cover donated to hepatitis research. c.w. post hillwood commons, pioneer room!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-5777462005582156458?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/5777462005582156458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/open-mic-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5777462005582156458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5777462005582156458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/open-mic-night.html' title='the open mic night!'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/ScLgQDjG5mI/AAAAAAAAAAw/jpPunyj-7f0/s72-c/img002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-6186144347528026154</id><published>2009-03-19T00:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T00:03:33.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>“How do I know I’m not the reincarnation of Jesus Christ?”</title><content type='html'>What is to be said of this organization?  Though I have not experienced it myself and have not given it much of a third thought, once it came out of Tara's mouth (an old high school friend I recently met up with) I knew it was growing, rapidly.  I can see how the idea of landmark would be intriguing, in fact I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious and interested myself- what draws so many people to pay 550 dollars for self help session that is supposedly “life changing” I couldn’t really tell you except for the explanation that the vast majority of people in our world (if not all) are lost and vulnerable looking for some sort of direction- some epiphany of sorts.  As a human being, like all the rest of a masked and pretentious vulnerability I wonder and think to myself- could landmark change my life?  I have no verifiable answer to this question since I have not experienced the phenomena but there is an overwhelming sensation of doubt.  Call me an unbeliever; call me a psychoanalytic bitch with no desire to look beyond the regular “mundane-ness” of being but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.  To this organization that believes they have “the answer” the unattainable truth that you can find seems to be entirely out of the question, which is to say that the only real questions in life, the ones of significance cannot be answered but instead are the ones you find yourself thinking about throughout the extent of your life, the ones the thinkers, philosophers, artists, writers, poets have contemplated through all of existence and tell me that 550 dollars will answer these questions for you.  Not only do I detest the idea of payment to fulfill your life but the concept of having “the answer” at any given moment of your life seems to be not only a cop out, but a waste of life in and of itself.  So lets think about this rationally- you are paying an extraordinary sum of money to sit in a conference room that is monitored by 15 surveillance cameras with about 75-250 other people (sure, go ahead, argue the sense of community- but a forced community you have to dig in your wallet for?) to listen to someone who is trying to “help” you (when did help and community ever have a decent paycheck? Who in their right mind, really wanting to help, would charge such an irrational amount of money, let alone in the worst financial crisis our generation has ever seen?  If it was fifty bucks sure but I mean multiplying at least 150 by 400 leads me to believe that this is the first step of their Hitler regime).  All right fine, I know, harsh- it’s not that I believe they are preaching pure evil or spreading negativity but it seems as though there must be some sort of brainwashing technique especially since they involve the entire audience in a mass hypnosis.  You want to go to the bathroom?  Not allowed.  Want to take notes? No again. Want to just check it out for yourself during the “graduation” expect more than one phone call from the landmark.  Maybe its all worth it, maybe this thing, whatever it is really works, or maybe, you just become even more robotic sitting next to that many people under the dictatorship of the same man who was accused by his own daughter of sexually assaulting and abusing his children and is the founder of this organization.  I for one, enjoy being human- and though I complain, maybe a little too much, every sorrow and burden and pain I am faced with allows me to become a better person, a better human and will ultimately lead to my life long path of self discovery- you want someone to ruin the most precious gift you have been given?  Go ahead, but I think each and every person needs to find their own path, feel the pain, feel the joy and be grateful, and if you need some help along the way, find another human- not the solace of a “community” that probably is one giant scheme.  Oh the beginnings of 2012- fulfilling our own self prophecy.  Anyway, this whole rant does not mean that I won’t be giving the infamous/famous landmark a shot.  Of course, my nature is that of a curious one, as is yours and every other person so yes, I will end up dishing the 550 dollars (when I can afford it) and yes, I will be sitting in a conference room where I am not allowed to pee and give up all control, but I suppose it’s a small price to pay. I mean, not really, its actually quite large but yes, I will be there.  Perhaps my entire idea of this organization will change (remember- hypnosis) ::winks:: but who really knows- these are just my thoughts.  I will update you along the way.  In the meantime, remember to relish being human, even the worst of seeds can blossom into a beautiful flower with a little time, sweat, love and patience.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my love-&lt;br /&gt;Lindoz&lt;br /&gt;P.s. Werner Erhard; Jesus? Really? Because Jesus would never say something like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-6186144347528026154?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/6186144347528026154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/how-do-i-know-im-not-reincarnation-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/6186144347528026154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/6186144347528026154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/how-do-i-know-im-not-reincarnation-of.html' title='“How do I know I’m not the reincarnation of Jesus Christ?”'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-5806286995883539387</id><published>2009-03-16T00:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T00:25:19.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>im an idiot.</title><content type='html'>self sabotage. think linda. think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-5806286995883539387?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/5806286995883539387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-idiot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5806286995883539387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5806286995883539387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-idiot.html' title='im an idiot.'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-4964121328203719296</id><published>2009-03-04T13:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T13:46:45.064-08:00</updated><title type='text'>today.</title><content type='html'>went to my internship, same as every wednesday- group therapy, "happy days" (activity and stimulation program for Alzheimer's patients).  We had pet therapy today, N (I'm only going to use first initials -patient confidentiality) brought in the sweetest puppy, her mom is a client in happy days, and N volunteers.  She's really a nice lady.  Then we put on some music and danced.  I asked B if she wanted to dance, told her how lovely her sweater was.  B never really wants to do anything.  She used to speak fluent english but reverted back to yiddish/gibberish when her brain started to deteriorate.  She takes my hand.  If you knew how difficult it is to connect with her you would understand that her taking my hand was a big deal.  anyway, we dance and about twenty minutes passes by and its time for lunch.  i ask her, "B, are you hungry? do you want to eat? its time for lunch" and point to my mouth and my belly.  She looks at me and responds: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No; I like you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and goes back to yiddish and gibberish.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont even know what the feeling is; all i know is that i evoked something in her and she in me as well.  &lt;br /&gt;it was completely beyond my comprehension and so gddamn beautiful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-4964121328203719296?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/4964121328203719296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/4964121328203719296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/4964121328203719296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/today.html' title='today.'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-8268785817827501579</id><published>2009-03-03T22:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T22:41:38.494-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a good bit of comedy for all to see :</title><content type='html'>AND ENJOY! courtesy of of a certain someone... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;click here for the best laugh of your life, written by a 21 year old girl (not me- i cant take credit for this sort of comedic genius)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/sense-of-humor-in-brooklyn.html#comments&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thanks "sasha"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-8268785817827501579?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/8268785817827501579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-bit-of-comedy-for-all-to-see.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/8268785817827501579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/8268785817827501579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-bit-of-comedy-for-all-to-see.html' title='a good bit of comedy for all to see :'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-2088246914376237553</id><published>2009-02-28T00:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T00:27:55.099-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a sense of humor in brooklyn</title><content type='html'>I enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;The look on your face was priceless-&lt;br /&gt;Mouth opened, gibberish;&lt;br /&gt;Embarrassed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You look to your right, to your left-&lt;br /&gt;Wondering whos watching,&lt;br /&gt;What eyes are turning;&lt;br /&gt;You always have been so; self; consumed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like that time we went shopping,&lt;br /&gt;You didn’t think I noticed but&lt;br /&gt;When you were trying on that black shirt,&lt;br /&gt;Brushing your hair back, and admiring yourself in the mirror,&lt;br /&gt;I knew you were a little bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fucked you anyway,&lt;br /&gt;Whoops.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-2088246914376237553?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/2088246914376237553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/sense-of-humor-in-brooklyn.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/2088246914376237553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/2088246914376237553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/sense-of-humor-in-brooklyn.html' title='a sense of humor in brooklyn'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-4462045209483730975</id><published>2009-02-13T00:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T00:18:58.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frédéric Chopin Nocturne in C# Minor</title><content type='html'>Transcribed by Nathan Milstein:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vWq_7JiX2Ig&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vWq_7JiX2Ig&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have a certain affinity for the strings. &lt;br /&gt;take me to a live performance, anyone... please? &lt;br /&gt;i would love you forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-4462045209483730975?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/4462045209483730975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/frederic-chopin-nocturne-in-c-minor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/4462045209483730975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/4462045209483730975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/frederic-chopin-nocturne-in-c-minor.html' title='Frédéric Chopin Nocturne in C# Minor'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-4087743706575142613</id><published>2009-02-12T23:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T23:52:29.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wild Iris</title><content type='html'>At the end of my suffering&lt;br /&gt;there was a door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hear me out: that which you call death&lt;br /&gt;I remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.&lt;br /&gt;Then nothing. The weak sun&lt;br /&gt;flickered over the dry surface.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is terrible to survive&lt;br /&gt;as consciousness&lt;br /&gt;buried in the dark earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was over: that which you fear, being&lt;br /&gt;a soul and unable&lt;br /&gt;to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth&lt;br /&gt;bending a little.  And what I took to be&lt;br /&gt;birds darting in low shrubs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You who do not remember&lt;br /&gt;passage from the other world&lt;br /&gt;I tell you I could speak again: whatever&lt;br /&gt;returns from oblivion returns&lt;br /&gt;to find a voice:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from the center of my life came&lt;br /&gt;a great fountain, deep blue&lt;br /&gt;shadows on azure sea water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  -- Louise Glück&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i fucking love this poem, especially the last two stanzas.  it holds a special place in my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-4087743706575142613?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/4087743706575142613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/wild-iris.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/4087743706575142613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/4087743706575142613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/wild-iris.html' title='The Wild Iris'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-5789761459700215622</id><published>2009-02-12T23:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T00:06:37.908-08:00</updated><title type='text'>(thousands of them)</title><content type='html'>The tension breaks us off.&lt;br /&gt;I hear you breathing,&lt;br /&gt;Heavily down my neck and I wonder how I’ll make it out,&lt;br /&gt;I wonder where the nearest escape route is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I crawl out of bed while you are sound and snoring,&lt;br /&gt;I wrap the towel around my naked body and tip toe to the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;Dirt covers the crevacies of the sink and the walls-&lt;br /&gt;And I am smothered in the basement room of an apartment in the greatest city in the world, and there seems to be no room left in your a queen sized bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drift in and out of consciousness;&lt;br /&gt;When I awake, its panicked and claustrophobic&lt;br /&gt;I draw close to your body in spite of the distance; &lt;br /&gt;I'm not quite sure if you feel it or not but I think it is growing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You press your face against my cheek,&lt;br /&gt;My make up smears with your persperation &lt;br /&gt;And he thrusts deeper inside of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many brothers and sisters do you have?&lt;br /&gt;Whats your fathers name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can hear you when I lay in your arms on the leather couch.&lt;br /&gt;There are no barriers when it comes to energy,&lt;br /&gt;And in our silent voices, we are screaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew a man, &lt;br /&gt;Limp and numb and barely awake.&lt;br /&gt;I followed him all the way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I would do for just a little bit of water-&lt;br /&gt;A slice of reciprocation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where’s the grass around here?&lt;br /&gt;I haven’t seen the sunshine in days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-5789761459700215622?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/5789761459700215622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/thousands-of-them.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5789761459700215622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/5789761459700215622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/thousands-of-them.html' title='(thousands of them)'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-777163156851755663</id><published>2009-02-08T21:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T15:24:30.569-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Never trust appearances"</title><content type='html'>"You know how the bud of a flower looks?  Already attractive, special, and unique yet still barely hinting at the splendor and magnificence to come.  Oblivious itself of how its presence will add to the world.  That’s what you remind me of."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-777163156851755663?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/777163156851755663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/never-trust-appearances.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/777163156851755663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/777163156851755663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/02/never-trust-appearances.html' title='&quot;Never trust appearances&quot;'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-349760120339151884</id><published>2009-01-27T23:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T23:54:11.905-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the bookstore</title><content type='html'>I've spent almost every free hour in the past three days at Barnes &amp; Noble and I can't get enough.  I want to sleep there and sniff the pages.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-349760120339151884?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/349760120339151884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/ive-spent-almost-every-free-hour-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/349760120339151884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/349760120339151884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/ive-spent-almost-every-free-hour-in.html' title='the bookstore'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-1429104328427662765</id><published>2009-01-26T22:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T22:55:50.063-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blueprints</title><content type='html'>I don’t want to lose your scent.&lt;br /&gt;The faucets running but im tired of washing , tired of waiting&lt;br /&gt;and my issues on letting go have become more habitual than anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your blue room,&lt;br /&gt;your blue sheets&lt;br /&gt;your blue heart is pumping but there is no oxygen,&lt;br /&gt;no life,&lt;br /&gt;no red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you brush my hair behind my face and kiss the side of my cheek-&lt;br /&gt;and you tell me you’re not pretending but,&lt;br /&gt;standing at the faucet I feel otherwise inclined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;time to shower,&lt;br /&gt;time to move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I play Chopin for you-&lt;br /&gt;Nocturne in C Sharp Minor;&lt;br /&gt;I melted into a formless being-&lt;br /&gt;I thought I felt our energies;&lt;br /&gt;bright yellows, a hue of orange,&lt;br /&gt;a sunset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when we fell asleep I matched your breath.&lt;br /&gt;wrapping charges, &lt;br /&gt;falling into you-&lt;br /&gt;I had (no body.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I linger to catch your scent-&lt;br /&gt;I choose to remember all lovers this way.&lt;br /&gt;In the distant future I will find myself walking along, and something will remind me of you-&lt;br /&gt;It will catch me off guard and creep in from my feet to my fingertips and I will feel you all over again and the bed sheets will only be a memory and&lt;br /&gt;I will know I will never see you again;&lt;br /&gt;It will cut through me with razor sharp fangs and I will regret never knowing&lt;br /&gt;You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The contamination spreads and I feel more insecure than ever-&lt;br /&gt;My body polluted with sheet music filled with deception and a man that was never worth my time or my music but-&lt;br /&gt;I feel compelled to tell him that when the violin came to its crescendo, &lt;br /&gt;I thought I knew You, &lt;br /&gt;and I loved you for a fleeting moment-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he only held me close-&lt;br /&gt;he holds all his women that way&lt;br /&gt;I was nothing more than just one of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-1429104328427662765?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/1429104328427662765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/blueprints.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/1429104328427662765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/1429104328427662765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/blueprints.html' title='Blueprints'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-3164893141168212194</id><published>2009-01-24T17:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T17:42:55.930-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Confusion says:</title><content type='html'>I feel like I don't even know what to do with myself anymore.  I felt the best about myself about a month after my last "break-up" but I think I misplaced some of that when I started to let go.  It's almost like after all that hard work of readjusting myself and deciding that I need to change my life, I became way too comfortable and  molded back into the same person; this creature of habit and I am just so tired of it.  I feel like I give pieces of myself away and then all of these people have these pieces, and I only have one left.  I need to take a nap and wake up in another country, or maybe just wake up when it's warm again, that would be okay too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-3164893141168212194?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/3164893141168212194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/confusion-says.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3164893141168212194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3164893141168212194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/confusion-says.html' title='Confusion says:'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-3380605329427738818</id><published>2009-01-16T12:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T12:52:49.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>tikki tikki tembo</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nOeLq01J6Uo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nOeLq01J6Uo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-3380605329427738818?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/3380605329427738818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/tikki-tikki-tembo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3380605329427738818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/3380605329427738818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/tikki-tikki-tembo.html' title='tikki tikki tembo'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-8292931861623967313</id><published>2009-01-14T15:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T15:46:45.374-08:00</updated><title type='text'>on my first day as in intern:</title><content type='html'>A patient at the Alzheimer's Foundation tells me she needs to talk; I pull her over to a secluded table and ask her to have a seat:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just don't know, i feel like I'm losing my marbles... I used to have my marbles.  I just need someone to talk to.  I'm so depressed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like, I'm here; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;but something is missing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go home, my mother is waiting, and my father would be so disappointed in me.  You know, I just want a friend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Her parents are dead, she doesn't remember)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-8292931861623967313?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/8292931861623967313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/on-my-first-day-as-in-intern.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/8292931861623967313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/8292931861623967313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/on-my-first-day-as-in-intern.html' title='on my first day as in intern:'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-6314228172381098262</id><published>2009-01-11T12:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T12:32:18.011-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bluebird by Charles Bukowski</title><content type='html'>there's a bluebird in my heart that&lt;br /&gt;wants to get out&lt;br /&gt;but I'm too tough for him,&lt;br /&gt;I say, stay in there, I'm not going&lt;br /&gt;to let anybody see&lt;br /&gt;you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there's a bluebird in my heart that&lt;br /&gt;wants to get out&lt;br /&gt;but I pur whiskey on him and inhale&lt;br /&gt;cigarette smoke&lt;br /&gt;and the whores and the bartenders&lt;br /&gt;and the grocery clerks&lt;br /&gt;never know that&lt;br /&gt;he's&lt;br /&gt;in there.&lt;br /&gt;there's a bluebird in my heart that&lt;br /&gt;wants to get out&lt;br /&gt;but I'm too tough for him,&lt;br /&gt;I say,&lt;br /&gt;stay down, do you want to mess&lt;br /&gt;me up?&lt;br /&gt;you want to screw up the&lt;br /&gt;works?&lt;br /&gt;you want to blow my book sales in&lt;br /&gt;Europe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there's a bluebird in my heart that&lt;br /&gt;wants to get out&lt;br /&gt;but I'm too clever, I only let him out&lt;br /&gt;at night sometimes&lt;br /&gt;when everybody's asleep.&lt;br /&gt;I say, I know that you're there,&lt;br /&gt;so don't be&lt;br /&gt;sad.&lt;br /&gt;then I put him back,&lt;br /&gt;but he's singing a little&lt;br /&gt;in there, I haven't quite let him&lt;br /&gt;die&lt;br /&gt;and we sleep together like&lt;br /&gt;that&lt;br /&gt;with our&lt;br /&gt;secret pact&lt;br /&gt;and it's nice enough to&lt;br /&gt;make a man&lt;br /&gt;weep, but I don't&lt;br /&gt;weep, do&lt;br /&gt;you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-6314228172381098262?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/6314228172381098262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/bluebird-by-charles-bukowski.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/6314228172381098262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/6314228172381098262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/bluebird-by-charles-bukowski.html' title='Bluebird by Charles Bukowski'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-212610606885906075</id><published>2009-01-10T00:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T01:14:45.853-08:00</updated><title type='text'>step # 1: listening to your gut</title><content type='html'>i love spontaneity.  you want to know why?  well, that's because of times like last night- things falling perfectly in place just from one random act and having a domino effect.  so, i suppose, depending on what kinds of things you believe in, maybe spontaneity isn't the right word.  anyway, it was beautiful.  besides the impracticality of Alex's house (the easily stain able kitchen counter tops, the 2 hour drying machine that dries, damp dries, regular dries, wrinkle removes, etc.. and the 3 hour dishwasher that should have gotten every bit of grime for the amount of time it took, and the perfectly placed comforter and pillows) it was fantastic.  all windows and sky and complete silence.  upon waking you hear the ocean and the sun is warming your face.  no alarm clocks.  i think to myself, had i not met that middle aged bisexual man who tried to kick it so hard to Sharon with his nonsensical bullshit of spiritual mastery, the course of events would have been completely different.  so i entertain his thoughts, and he doesn't look at me, i ask him why i make him uncomfortable and whisper to him that i already know the answer; he closes his eyes as in deep in thought and nods his head.  he is only trying to make an impression, to make me think he is thinking something profound, perhaps even, that he knows something about me and smiles coyly.  he knows he's lying. i know he's lying. he knows i know hes lying.  it makes him uneasy.  on that note, i really detest people who attempt to charm, they're always the worst and they've always got something up their sleeve.  when i meet people like this i look at my life and realize i am not as out of my mind as i believe myself to be.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the rest of the night was icing.  we made new friends, one of which reminded me of; someone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;internship starts Wednesday?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh and p.s. i recommend everyone to see slumdog millionaires.  i cr&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ied.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-212610606885906075?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/212610606885906075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/step-1-listening-to-your-gut.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/212610606885906075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/212610606885906075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/step-1-listening-to-your-gut.html' title='step # 1: listening to your gut'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-4510839309216666246</id><published>2009-01-06T23:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T23:56:42.375-08:00</updated><title type='text'>rachel brice</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/c9LeOz_3Z4Y&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/c9LeOz_3Z4Y&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to learn her tricks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-4510839309216666246?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/4510839309216666246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/rachel-brice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/4510839309216666246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/4510839309216666246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/rachel-brice.html' title='rachel brice'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-1594338393655523300</id><published>2009-01-04T23:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T00:10:01.522-08:00</updated><title type='text'>thoughts.</title><content type='html'>1.  &lt;div&gt;On filling a bottle of water from the sink filter, I realize how much time i waste &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;everysingleday&lt;/span&gt; doing mundane things and fulfilling my self prophecy.  I need to stop waking up at 3 p.m.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had this dream the other night, the house (mansion) is reoccurring, but always changing and I am always confined to a certain wing of the place.  What I find most interesting though is the garden.  There is a lake; the shrubbery is unkempt but there are wild flowers, they're purple, and directly in front of where I am standing there is a wooden archway and a small opening leading to a bigger body of water, but there is no way across.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am sitting in a giant stadium, as was my entire graduating class.  We were watching the podium.  I saw myself, maybe pushing 5 years old, short black hair, a nervous face- my eyes were open and for a moment, I was her and I remembered all those things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We all stand up, they all walk to the left.  In my confusion I run to the right.  I want to be with her; the lady points me to the opposite direction.  I turn and they are too far ahead, all of them. I scamper to the stage and whisk up the stairs and there is no one there.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't graduate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The best kinds of communication, are in the depths of silence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All this talk of houses leads me to leave you with one of my favorite excerpts so far from the novel &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;House&lt;/span&gt; Of Leaves, I imagine I will leave some more as the days pass.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Then, no matter where you are, in a crowded &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;comforts of your own home, you'll watch yourself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;dismantle every assurance you ever lived by.  You'll&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;denials, whether deliberate or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;unconscious&lt;/span&gt;.  And then&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;for better or worse you'll turn, unable to resist,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;though try to resist you still will, fighting with&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;everything you've got not to face the thing you most &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;before, the creature you truly are, the creature we&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And then the nightmares will begin.&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;It could sound depressing, but I really like the element of youth and change; maybe it could be motivational instead- there is so much more to know.&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;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-1594338393655523300?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/1594338393655523300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/thoughts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/1594338393655523300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/1594338393655523300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/thoughts.html' title='thoughts.'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4334278347385800572.post-2600350952110913970</id><published>2009-01-04T00:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T00:40:15.341-08:00</updated><title type='text'>theres no self expression in using grammar</title><content type='html'>there came a certain point in the movie where i wanted to stand up and and sing "wish you would step back from that ledge my friend", and say, YEEES! because i know everyone else in the movie theater wanted to do that.  but i didnt, and im thinking about it two hours later wondering how funny it would have been if i had.   &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4334278347385800572-2600350952110913970?l=mynameislin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/feeds/2600350952110913970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/theres-no-self-expression-in-using.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/2600350952110913970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4334278347385800572/posts/default/2600350952110913970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mynameislin.blogspot.com/2009/01/theres-no-self-expression-in-using.html' title='theres no self expression in using grammar'/><author><name>mynameislin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18177624086761719026</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BC86y9-rJmM/SbdP8igHwtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/--FWpOyPxk8/S220/Photo+176.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
