<?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-7856952099715842999</id><updated>2012-02-16T04:45:35.877-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Adversity.</title><subtitle type='html'>A twisted sense of self.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>61</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-5568035553747868475</id><published>2011-01-14T23:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T23:53:50.311-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Have you ever tried sleeping with a broken heart?  Well, you can sleep in my bed...</title><content type='html'>Things are still tough, but that doesn't mean they wont get better.  I try to remain an optimistic person, even through the worst situations.  Sometimes &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;optimism&lt;/span&gt; is all you have to hold on to, or faith that you're going in the right direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I am really tired of letting the bad into my life.  I put myself in these situations where I let someone get the best of me, it doesn't benefit me...but it does them.  I want to scream in their face that there is so much more, I am an amazing person.  I shouldn't have to prove that to someone though, they should just see it, right?  I need to stop being such a door mat for the wrong people.  I truly adore some of them, but I don't think they feel the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I will say it again.  It's a new year.  A new year brings new things, friends, adventures, etc.  Hopefully this new year isn't filled with the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;animosity&lt;/span&gt; and hate the last one was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  My heart still hurts, from things that were said, things that were done.  I let my guard down by thinking I was trying something new, but I just got myself into a big mess.  I wonder sometimes if I will ever stop settling for less than what I deserve.  When will I actually see my worth and move forward with my life.  I hold onto things for too long, I think.  I believe that just because something that was once good, and now bad, it can go back to being good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The worst part of feeling the weight of the world is, when you think it can't get any worse...you realize you're all alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  It will get better, I know it will.  I just have to keep going, and not look back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-5568035553747868475?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/5568035553747868475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=5568035553747868475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5568035553747868475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5568035553747868475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2011/01/have-you-ever-tried-sleeping-with.html' title='Have you ever tried sleeping with a broken heart?  Well, you can sleep in my bed...'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-9043950876932484565</id><published>2011-01-12T23:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T23:55:29.597-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Twenty Eleven.</title><content type='html'>So.  Here I am.  I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided I would blog more this year.  I didn't have a single blog entry in 2010, and I think only 15 in 2009.  That's borderline pathetic, especially considering how much I enjoy throwing my emotions onto the internet.  Not really, but nobody seems to want to hear my life rants, so I might as well blog them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am honestly glad to put this last year behind me, and I am glad I didn't write about it.  I can sum it up in roughly one poorly written sentence.  Heartache, let down, failure, and I was lost. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a new fucking year.  I will repeat that to myself, as many fucking times as it takes for me to pull my head out of my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confusion is such an ugly thing, if you call it a thing?  I am sure most would agree, a situation can be over analyzed in far too many ways.  A sensitive person can only handle so much of this.  You can truly start to lose your self worth, in a bad situation.  Forget who you are, what you stand for, and are become blind to what you're becoming. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so much more I want to let go, so many things I've kept bottled up because I thought nobody cared.  They will have to wait though, it's late.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-9043950876932484565?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/9043950876932484565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=9043950876932484565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/9043950876932484565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/9043950876932484565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2011/01/twenty-eleven.html' title='Twenty Eleven.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8114534469167400173</id><published>2009-08-21T22:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T23:14:32.532-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing can be created out of nothing.</title><content type='html'>I'm up too late again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be sleeping, but I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my thoughts stir when I lack sleep. This is a win/lose situation. That's just my opinion though. I have great thoughts, while not getting sleep. Joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind has recently gone into over drive again. Seems when some things fall into place, others just fall. Music is my escape lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few great things and a few great things I am missing at this particular time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel happy. I feel sad. It's never a balanced mood with me. It's all over the place and never the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel I do need to seek change in a few of my awful habits that still lurk from my ugly past. Yet, I think I deserve to be treated a little better by a certain person. Will that ever happen? Well, I will succeed and be the person I want to be...but will the other person be who I want them to be. I don't know. Do I wait around and see? Or, do I move forward and see where I end up. They both have their &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;ups&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;downs&lt;/span&gt;. I am just stuck, as always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever. I'm done fucking thinking. Sleep. Need sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8114534469167400173?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8114534469167400173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8114534469167400173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2009/08/nothing-can-be-created-out-of-nothing.html' title='Nothing can be created out of nothing.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-982209869534700200</id><published>2009-08-19T21:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T23:15:22.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>I cannot explain the sudden rush of emotions. Why does it even bother me. Why was I expecting a different outcome. Why in my heart have I always been waiting...for something that will never come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am tired of being something I am not and running from the things that once meant so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-982209869534700200?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/982209869534700200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=982209869534700200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/982209869534700200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/982209869534700200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-4921756949568260173</id><published>2009-06-12T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T12:26:19.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby, to a hammer...everything looks like a nail.</title><content type='html'>I am going to start this blog out by saying... I absolutely love Lady GaGa.  The girl is ridic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  On to the topic at hand today, which are several wrapped into one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I will not let anyone get the best of me, not anyone, ever.  You can try your hardest, but just know, you will fail.  I've learned too much in my young years to fuck with idiots.  You, them and anyone else just isn't worth it.  This life is my life, I will live it how I choose, with who I choose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I cannot help if it eats you alive when you don't get your way, but face the facts hun, you got yourself all fucked up.  Your priorities are ass backwards and I can tell you from experience, being at the bottom sucks.  So, straighten up while you have a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  People say things when they're down in the dumps.  I know because I've been there.  We do things when our heart hurts, most of the time it involves being irrational and making poor decisions.  If this person isn't with you, they're with someone else... that should tell you something.  How many times are you going to try?  You cannot win, if you're fighting yourself.  Do yourself a favor, find someone who does want you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The feelings I have are sincere, so I guess that's why I am here and you're not.  So, play pretend with all your friends, tell lies, slap that smile on your face...I know how you feel inside.  You've failed.  Must hurt to feel unwanted, or used.  That's why I only worry about myself, then I don't have to stress about what others are doing, with our without me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  You might put those efforts into losing a little weight, or finding a hobby worth bragging about.  Maybe even find real friends, instead of playing pretend with people you're only using. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Step up to the plate, I'm ready to pitch....little bitch"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-4921756949568260173?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/4921756949568260173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=4921756949568260173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4921756949568260173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4921756949568260173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2009/06/baby-to-hammereverything-looks-like.html' title='Baby, to a hammer...everything looks like a nail.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8389296486186630786</id><published>2009-05-31T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:37:08.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In jealousy there is more of self-love than love.</title><content type='html'>Take a minute to look back on what you've accomplished so far in this life.   How do you view yourself?  Succesful, beautiful, outgoing?  Or, jealous, self rightous, bitter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We live one life, we get one chance to make things right.  I am not one to preach about how you should treat others.  Nor, do I have the right to make standards for others.  We are all guilty of being that jealous person, or that bitter person.  It's human nature, something that is written by the hand of another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I do believe we all have to step up at some point in our lives and worry about the right things and prioritize what is important.  Spend less time worrying about others, like, your enemy from high school, or your ex boyfriends current girlfriend, etc...  While you stress so much over what they're doing, what are you doing?   Where are you going?  I can tell you, they don't worry about you, they probably feel bad for you.  Are they going to determine who pays your bills?  Are they going to help you if you need someone to cry to?  No, they wont. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We lose ourselfs and our dignity while trying to make others look bad.  That light shade that blurs out the reality of your own life will soon fade and everyone will be watching.  Like I said, it's human nature.  We thrive on watching others fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So, take a deep breath and focus on what's important.  Not who's important.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8389296486186630786?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8389296486186630786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8389296486186630786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8389296486186630786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8389296486186630786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2009/05/in-jealousy-there-is-more-of-self-love.html' title='In jealousy there is more of self-love than love.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-2577570902097108458</id><published>2009-02-03T17:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T17:49:48.174-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Only because it's not what you want to hear...</title><content type='html'>I have to dish on this.  Seriously, before my fucking head explodes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  If I have to hear or read about "guy" problems one more time, I'm going to fall through my ass and hang myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  What's even more annoying is, it's usually the same person(s) 90% of the time.  Every 3 months, I know I'm going to see that feminist, "hear me roar", &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;myspace&lt;/span&gt; blog about how you "don't need a man".  Well, girlfriend, I'm going to lay it all out for you.  I won't pat your ass and give you kudos on dishing it out to some dude on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;myspace&lt;/span&gt;, who broke your heart.  Especially when you go through these episodes at least 4 times, with each guy, every couple months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  First, let me start off by saying this.  When I read these "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;empowering&lt;/span&gt;" blogs of yours, I sense that you really are insecure, although you may not agree.  You come off as someone who needs a man, in other words "co dependent".  Whether it be emotional, or financial.  I sense more emotional though, personally.  I see someone who falls "in love" within a month of meeting a person, regardless of who that person may be.  Now, how in Gods name do you even get to know a person in 30 days?  Shit, I've been around 25 years and I confuse myself sometimes.  Give it, at the least, 4 months before you go announcing your love for some random douche bag, on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;myspace&lt;/span&gt;.  So, after I read about all this happiness (and in all honesty, I was happy for you the first time...until I caught on to your mental trend), I can promise....in 3 months, TOPS, I will come across a fresh new blog about how you've "found yourself" or "you can make it without him".  Well, duh... you've made it this far.  When I see these, it's when I really just laugh to myself at your ignorance and how pathetic your friends are for actually agreeing with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Here is my advice to you, especially when kids are involved.  Focus on yourself, men are turned on by independence, seriously.  I'm not talking over kill, but independence is good.  Imagine saying "I don't need a man" and truly meaning it.  Being able to take care of your kids and self without the help of another person.  It's liberating, truly.  Ever thought about what it might feel like to put your kids in front of your emotional needs?  You might want to try it, being selfless is the best part of being a mother, to me.  How about getting an education, your spelling and grammar could use some major work.  These ; are not to be used after every word, so stop, you're almost 30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I hate to be even more cold here, but I am certain the boys you flock to aren't one to really understand a real job or grammar either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Your blog was the worst analogy on women and independence I have ever seen in my life.   I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; for you.  Not only could I truly understand what you were saying ( or lack thereof), but you misused words like it was a trend.  POSTING A BLOG ON &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;MYSPACE&lt;/span&gt; WILL NOT GET A GUYS ATTENTION, ALTHOUGH THE CAPS MIGHT HELP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  If you're truly not concerned about how he feels anymore, or you're all about self &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;sufficiency&lt;/span&gt;, then fucking prove it.  Get the fuck off &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;myspace&lt;/span&gt;.  I'm tired of seeing 32 bulletins a day about what color shirt you're wearing.  Get a fucking life and then preach on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;myspace&lt;/span&gt;.  It's really fucking pathetic.  Have you thought lately about where you will be in 10 years, shit 5 years even.  Obviously the finding a guy to carry your ass and feed your kids is coming along too well.  I'm sure your parents are tired of having their nearly 30 year old daughter in the house too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; CHRIST ON A CRACKER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Get with it girls.  For all that we've gone through, why are so many still so co dependent on men.  I'm tired of seeing it.  My Mom worked her ass off for 20 years to support two kids, only dating when she had time.  The stereotypes are still there and I see girls that truly disappoint me everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to shoot myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-2577570902097108458?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/2577570902097108458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=2577570902097108458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2577570902097108458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2577570902097108458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2009/02/only-because-its-not-what-you-want-to.html' title='Only because it&apos;s not what you want to hear...'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-1125780223965382656</id><published>2008-12-17T21:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T21:46:18.349-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When you can think of yesterday without regret and tomorrow without fear, you are near contentment.</title><content type='html'>Life has been busy lately.  I often feel like I do not have enough time in my day's to accomplish all that I would like to.   It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;gets&lt;/span&gt; frustrating, but I try not to let it get the best of me.  If I relax, things will get done.  Maybe not as fast as I would like, but they will get done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I think the majority of it, right now, is because of the holidays.  I'm trying so hard to prep for Christmas and get a lot of other things done.  Stressful.  Very stressful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I haven't been riding as much.  That's a whole other story though.  One that is also frustrating.  Although, I do adore Sawyer and I am so lucky to have him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Now, for the good stuff.  I'm sure that is what all my lurkers are waiting for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Life, while being frustrating, has also become quite confusing.  Don't get me wrong, I love and enjoy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;everyday&lt;/span&gt;.  I feel like I am in a wonderful position and I look forward to next year.  I will be starting school again and hopefully I will find a promising job.  I haven't the slightest clue what I want to accomplish with school (aside from the obvious) but I know I just want to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I'm so stuck.  Stuck on which direction I want to go in.  I see wonderful things happening if I stay, right now.  I'm just unsure of what I want.  Part of me is not ready to settle down, or be done with my adventures.  I am 25 and I have so much more I want to do.  I want to travel and meet new people.  Then again, part of me is afraid to take a path that holds uncertainty.  With certainty comes stability and I've done nothing but preach about stability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, I am stuck between a rock and a hard place.  I hate not having answers.  It is my curse, I like to know everything.  Which simply isn't going to happen, unless I really figure out what I need to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I will continue this later, my back hurts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-1125780223965382656?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/1125780223965382656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=1125780223965382656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/1125780223965382656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/1125780223965382656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/12/when-you-can-think-of-yesterday-without.html' title='When you can think of yesterday without regret and tomorrow without fear, you are near contentment.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-693104130415917809</id><published>2008-11-17T11:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T11:28:38.997-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a pessimist, with an optimist outlook.</title><content type='html'>Indeed, I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; One might ask, "how is this possible".  Honestly, I couldn't tell ya.  I just know, that is who I am.  Maybe not who I've always been, but who I am now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the longest time I have sat back and tried to figure myself out.  Which, really, maybe it's just me, but it's been far too complicated.  Obviously I know who I am, but trying to reason with the decisions I make is pretty impossible.  Not saying all of them have been bad decisions, some have been the best I have ever made.  The question is, why did I make them?  Who the heck knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I started to paint a picture of my everyday attitude.  I am at times over bearing and I worry just a little too much.  No matter what though, I am always positive of the outcome, or the things I will face in the future.  Given I have been through so much, in such  little time, I can be nothing but positive.  Even if the situation in itself, isn't always a positive one.  That is really the only way a person can truly function, without hitting the bottom.  If you keep a level head, things will always turn out the way they are supposed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I changed from being a total pessimist, things started to go uphill, slightly.  My entire life did a 180 and I saw the better of what I had been up against.  Maybe it is my age that has me looking at things through a different prospective.  Maybe it's because I have a little person who looks up to me everyday, that I want to see succeed when she grows up.  I'm not sure.  All I know is that I am starting to enjoy this ride, instead of just holding on for the ride.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-693104130415917809?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/693104130415917809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=693104130415917809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/693104130415917809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/693104130415917809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-am-pessimist-with-optimist-outlook.html' title='I am a pessimist, with an optimist outlook.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-6232013188612505022</id><published>2008-11-11T15:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T15:38:13.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naïve forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget.</title><content type='html'>Today, overall was a good day.  I got a lot accomplished, spent time with good people and I was in a great mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Although, I will say.  I am frustrated by the ignorance of others.  Really, seems like everything has been simmering up until this point and it finally just boiled over.  I am tired of the low blows and innuendos by others.  I get extremely irritated when I see someone doing something, then getting praised.  Yet, if I turned around and did the same thing, I would be given unsolicited advice on how I should be doing things.  Double standards do not go over well in my book.  For what I've been through and seen in my life, I have learned a lot about what to expect out of people.  What I am willing to take and what I will always stand up for.  I am hard headed, stubborn and at times, a little naive but I will be damned if I am ever a push over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The fact that for so long, I've called a certain few my friends, really makes me infuriated.  Why be told we are free to voice our opinion, if in the long run, it really isn't worth it or there will be repercussions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only that, I expect more out of people.  Do not take what I say out of context.  At least pretend you've listened to everything I have said, before jumping the gun.  It really chaps my ass when people have a nasty remark and they've simply ignored my reasoning.  Do not jump on my ass, when I was agreeing with you.  This is called ignorance and I hate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, how bout them apples?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-6232013188612505022?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/6232013188612505022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=6232013188612505022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6232013188612505022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6232013188612505022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/11/stupid-neither-forgive-nor-forget-nave.html' title='The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naïve forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8703739542245804680</id><published>2008-11-09T23:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T00:00:20.511-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Even more busy.</title><content type='html'>This seems to be my new thing.  Busy, that is.  All the time, it's a vicious cycle in my little world.  I am certain it's because I whined way too much before about how I had nothing to do.  Don't we all though?  At one point or another?  I really don't mind, it's only when I get in over my head that I start to gasp for the "not so busy" air.  See, I am one of those people who ends up spinning out of control when I have way too much going on.  It's almost like I lose all ability to function like a normal human and I start thinking way too much about productive planning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I'm odd.  I already know this, so no need in reminding me.  I also like it that way, being odd.  Sets me apart from all the normals walking around.  Well, having the name Scotti and having a vagina already set's me apart from the "norm".  Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I had a 3rd birthday party for Anna yesterday.  Our theme was Dinosaurs, at the request of Anna.  Well, it was between Spongebob and Dinosaurs.  She got lucky and had both, Spongebob being at her school.  It went off without a hitch!  She had a few friends come and she ran herself into the ground playing all day.  We ate way too many cupcakes and opened lot's of presents.  It was a great day, even with all the stress that came with planning the party.  We went to bed pretty late (what!  Ya think we could stop ourselfs from playing with all the&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; cool new toys&lt;/span&gt;!), so Miss Anna slept until 10:30 this morning.  She actually crawled in bed with me at 8 and (Thank you baby Jesus) slept for another 2 and half hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The house.  Oh, the house.  It's a mess.  New toy's scattered across the living room, cupcake remains imbeded on the counter, clothes strewn across the couch.  Yes, it's bad.  I had it all nice for the party and in just 3 measley hours, it was destroyed.  We were all too tired to really make any kind of dent on it today, so tomorrow I will be in warrior mode.   I really hate looking at a cluttered space, which is the vibe I am getting off the house right now, but all will be well tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I'm really just glad to have all but one birthday out of the way, until Christmas madness sets in.  Oh, and that would be my birthday.  Which really, there will be no big plans.  Other than dinner at my favorite restuarant with Allen and a night out.  Seems I lack those these days, "Nights out", but I am honest to God... NOT COMPLAINING.  It's quite refreshing to say I've had but 3 beers in two months.  I am sure we will also do a dinner with Anna and the family.  Now that I am actually writing it, the thought of my birthday scares me.  I will be 25, that number scares me.  Mostly because I wish I was done with school and I'm not.  Although, everything else has seemed to get itself on track, that won't be far behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Gosh.  I just realized.  I've yet to even post about Allen.  Holy heck, I have been a major slacker here.  Not that I am sure too many people read this anyway, I am still shocking myself.  Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, yea... Allen.  Allen and I have known each other 7 long years.  We've come and gone in each others lives, as friends usually do.  I never imagined we would be where we are today.  We have been dating 4 months now and it has been perfect.  I look forward to updating about "us".  I do believe it needs to have it's own blog.  Yes, it's own.  Too much to go on about in this already extremely long update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I will also be creating a new blog.  One dedicated to another person I've failed to mention.  Sawyer, my newest love muffin and 4 legged child.  I want to have a blog strictly for his training progress and all the is squishy, uishy, horsey lovin' updatingness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I am still slightly frustrated (probably because I am forced to look at the cluttered living room as I type this) and "tired" doesn't even describe how tired I am.  See, so tired I cannot even think of a more creative word to use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, goodnight!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8703739542245804680?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8703739542245804680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8703739542245804680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8703739542245804680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8703739542245804680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/11/even-more-busy.html' title='Even more busy.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-7411153153249415433</id><published>2008-11-07T08:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T09:13:23.202-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A woman who is very busy seldom changes her opinions.</title><content type='html'>I think it's time I kick this back into high gear.  I love the blog, but I never seem to have much time.  Well, I do but I never really think to update my blog.  Oh well, I will make an effort to fix the lack of blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been good.  No, things have been amazing.  I still have my moments where I tend to let stress get the best of me, but I'm human.  Well, that and I have a lot of estrogen flowing through my woman parts.  On a serious note, I could not ask for anything more at this given time.  I'm truly blessed to be where I am today.  I know I had some bad karma from the past floating around, but I think I've pretty much paid my due's to karma.  To look back on things, or the emotions I've felt in the past, I'm amazed by where I stand today.  Lucky and very grateful, that is what I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do believe my responsibility and maturity level have sky rocketed in the last year alone.  Comparing myself (although I'm not a fan of comparing) to who I was just one year ago, to who I am today is nearly night and day.  I've learned to stand up for what I believe in, without being irrational.  Someone said this to me and it has really stuck with me, "Everything you want in life will happen, it just might not be at the speed you want it to happen".  I think about that and it's so true.  I felt like I was rushing everything in my life, when in all reality, things are OK at the rate their moving.  I still get carried away and stack my plate a little too high at times, but again, I'm human.  As dysfunctional as my home life was, my life wouldn't be fun if it were too "normal".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having matured I see a lot of things and a lot of people differently now.  Some stuff I questioned before, but now I have the answers as to what I truly want in my life.  People I held in the highest regard, are no longer on a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pedestal&lt;/span&gt;.  I've seen the malicious side, that they've tried to hard to cover up.  I know that I am too good of a person now to ever feel unwanted, by anyone.  I see it as their loss, whether they agree or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my best friends told me a few days ago that I do a lot of rambling.  I guess she's right, I do!  I've gotten no complaints, so I will continue to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note, I have to go.  It's my little one's birthday today and I have a party to plan.  I also have a fat mule to go ride this afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Friday everyone! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-7411153153249415433?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/7411153153249415433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=7411153153249415433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/7411153153249415433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/7411153153249415433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/11/woman-who-is-very-busy-seldom-changes.html' title='A woman who is very busy seldom changes her opinions.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-6917191223133246693</id><published>2008-11-06T20:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T20:34:27.627-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To the keeper of my heart.</title><content type='html'>My, oh, my.  3 years, 3 whole years filled with unconditional love, from a toddler I call Anna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; My Dear Anna,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  3 years ago, to the day, you came into my life like wild fire.   It is a day that will forever live in my heart and in my soul.  I became a Mother that day, your Mother and you became my daughter.  I will cherish this day for as long as I live, for I was blessed with more than I could have ever asked for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; You are so full of grace, but I see that fire in you.  The same fire I carry in myself, the desire to never stop learning.  You remind me so much of myself. A fighter and a lover. A free spirit, who is hard headed and stubborn at times.  A beautiful person, inside and out.  A girl who loves diggin' up dirt in her best dress.  I see you grow everyday and although bittersweet, I am so proud of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I never imagined that 3 years ago I could be happier than I was in that moment I first held you.  As each day goes by, I realize this is my life, you are my life.  All of my dreams, wrapped tightly around you, my heart in the palm of your hand.  Even at just 3, I see a beautiful person, who is going to take the world by surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; You are the fire and the world is your fuel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Happy 3rd Birthday, Jitterbug. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Love,&lt;br /&gt;Mommy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-6917191223133246693?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/6917191223133246693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=6917191223133246693' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6917191223133246693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6917191223133246693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/11/to-keeper-of-my-heart.html' title='To the keeper of my heart.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-4184177413117094981</id><published>2008-08-20T11:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T12:03:59.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It can take a surprisingly long time to get from one part of my mind to another.</title><content type='html'>Ever reflect on conversations, or thoughts you have.  I do.  I have decided I am a plethora of pretty useless knowledge.  The great thing is, I always have something to talk about.  I make small talk a little less awkward, well maybe awkward but in a good way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I honestly don't know why I feel the need to even talk about this, I was just pondering.  Something I do more frequently than others.  Not a quality everyone can say they have.  It just adds to my uniqueness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  That brings me to conversation etiquette.   If it were a profession, I am pretty damn sure I would win.  I can bring warmth to any conversation.  Funny because a few years ago, I was so shy.  Now, I would blow anyone away with my ability to connect with almost anyone through good conversation.  I rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Maybe it's because I think so much.  I'm always searching for answers to questions most people would never think of.  I want to know it all.  I thrive off of all the things I am hungry to learn.  I could just be weird but to me, I am smart in my own way.  I am a busy body who can sit still and constantly has to be reading about something I find odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Pointless blog.  Just felt the need to blog it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-4184177413117094981?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/4184177413117094981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=4184177413117094981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4184177413117094981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4184177413117094981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/08/it-can-take-surprisingly-long-time-to.html' title='It can take a surprisingly long time to get from one part of my mind to another.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-7236744220901223589</id><published>2008-08-15T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T22:26:35.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Experience is the name every one gives to their mistakes.</title><content type='html'>Life is funny.  The way things work out, how slow and how fast time goes by, etc.  I must admit, in my 24 years, I have enjoyed the short ride in this crazy life.  I am excited to see what else is out there for me, the journeys I will take and the people I will meet.  I know there is so much more to learn and take in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  The last year, maybe year and half, has been amazing.  With all the ups and downs, I've loved it.  I have learned so much, I hit rock bottom and fought my way back to the top.  Although not all the way there, I know I have great things ahead of me.  I know I am beautiful and outgoing, I have the world to offer.  There are some things I would have liked to not of dealt with, but honestly... where would I be without that experience (mistake).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Today so many things came into focus.  I saw clear for the first time in a while and realized... life is to short to sweat the bull shit.  The people who are supposed to be there, will be until the end.  What is meant to happen, will.  I am no longer wasting my time on anyone who has nothing to offer and does not benefit my life in some way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I have lost and gained a lot of people this past year.  The friends I've gained, or reconnected with are most certainly worth it.  The one's who were lost, I have yet to look back.  This cycle is a clean one and one I have so far not had any regrets from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I looked back on blogs from this year.  They have all almost repetitive.   Only... they're all leading in the same direction...up.  I love this, all of it.  The only thing that is different, not turning back anymore, my direction is a one way street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "This new heart of mine".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-7236744220901223589?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/7236744220901223589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=7236744220901223589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/7236744220901223589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/7236744220901223589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/08/experience-is-name-every-one-gives-to.html' title='Experience is the name every one gives to their mistakes.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-3356069552486368925</id><published>2008-08-12T11:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T11:35:05.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Words.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;To see you when I wake up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Is a gift I didn't think could be real.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;To know that you feel the same as I doIs a three-fold, Utopian dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You do something to me that I can't explain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So would I be out of line if I said "I miss you"?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I see your picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I smell your skin on the empty pillow next to mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You have only been gone ten days, But already I'm wasting away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I know I'll see you again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Whether far or soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But I need you to know that I care, And I miss you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;It's always hard to find the right things to say when you lose the one thing you thought was real. We slap a smile on our face and make it through the day without breaking down. Hold back words and emotions that at one point were so easy to say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I've moved on but there is that one part of me that won't let go. I am sure in time but right now it's still there. Days get easier and aren't so long anymore. My laughter is genuine and my heart is slowly piecing back together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I will always love what we had, even if it's no longer what I want. There were good times and there were bad, I will carry the good in my heart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Although I felt like I needed closure, I don't think that was the case. I just think I needed to get over all of it and really say goodbye to a lost cause.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;This is the end. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I've closed one chapter and have started another. A great chapter at that, this book has only just begun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-3356069552486368925?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/3356069552486368925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=3356069552486368925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/3356069552486368925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/3356069552486368925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/08/words.html' title='Words.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-3851652747855934241</id><published>2008-08-10T09:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T09:32:54.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>08.10.08</title><content type='html'>Today seems to be one of the harder days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I know I will be ok. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; This too shall pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I just need something to look back on, a reminder that everything truly does happen for a reason.  That I am actually better off and getting better everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It just days like this where my heart hurts and I feel so betrayed.  Other days it all makes sense and I put my anger on the back burner.  I think maybe I can forgive and really move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I'm happy.  I have a lot going on, I've met some wonderful people, but letting go isn't easy.  Moving on isn't easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Tomorrow is another day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-3851652747855934241?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/3851652747855934241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=3851652747855934241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/3851652747855934241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/3851652747855934241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/08/081008.html' title='08.10.08'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-6847404233501183103</id><published>2008-07-24T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T21:40:06.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Think. Think. Think.</title><content type='html'>So.  Back in the position I hate to be in.  One where I am forced to rethink my life and the goals I have set for myself.  Hey, I believe we should review our goals every now and then.  Thing is, mine are all over the place.  I have no goals, other than a few, actually set in stone.  I guess it's something I need to work on.  I do think I am a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;determined&lt;/span&gt; person, I just think too much to stay focused on one thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Now, I do have direction.  Is it what I want though, or is it what I need.  Thinking about it makes my brain hurt.  At times I would say I had too much &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;spontaneity&lt;/span&gt;.  Not always the good kind.  I will put so much effort into something, then suddenly move onto something else, without first finishing what I had originally started.  Makes me irritated with myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Let's be serious for a second.  I am pretty sure I have a clear idea what I want out of life, we all do.  It's that what I will be doing that fails me.  Which I have heard, from most, is normal for anyone my age.  I am in the process of setting up a ladder for myself.  What I will place at the top of that ladder is something I don't even know yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, I am going to take the next month to just clear my head and let things fall into place.  I have an idea of where I am going, I just want things to pan out.  What happens will happen and it will be within in good reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I am sort of babbling.  I guess because I am avoiding bed.  I know sleeping means waking up, which then means work.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ew&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Anyway.  I also realized (after some much needed advice), I put myself on the back burner because I look to other people for decisions.  I almost feel like if I am the one to make the decision, if even for myself, I let everyone else down.  In some situations, that might be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.  Not when it comes to my life.  I need to stand up and start thinking for myself.  I need to worry less about suiting my life for other people and more for me.  Those who were worth a shit will be there when it's said and done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;.  Bed time for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;realz&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-6847404233501183103?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/6847404233501183103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=6847404233501183103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6847404233501183103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6847404233501183103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/07/think-think-think.html' title='Think. Think. Think.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-6362732419769085435</id><published>2008-07-24T17:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T17:50:31.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Todays Horoscope.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;"Sit down and make a list of the things that you need to change in your life. Believe in yourself and don't be afraid to follow your dreams."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.  Wow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-6362732419769085435?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/6362732419769085435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=6362732419769085435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6362732419769085435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6362732419769085435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/07/todays-horoscope.html' title='Todays Horoscope.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-6550529476632856665</id><published>2008-07-22T10:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T11:09:27.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love doesn't make the world go 'round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/SIYiS3dBQnI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5mRfgWWPjPU/s1600-h/l_53c0b5f2d70eac563a8e15455b62472c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225902125128696434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/SIYiS3dBQnI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5mRfgWWPjPU/s320/l_53c0b5f2d70eac563a8e15455b62472c.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have someone in my life, someone more important than my own life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who's smile warms my heart. Someone who pushes me to climb those mountain tops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who with one sweet "I love you" says 1,000 words over and over again in my soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who without knowing it, pushes me to never stop fighting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This someone has shown me, life isn't so bad. There is a reason to keep going, a reason to wake up every morning with a smile on my face. A reason to always try and try harder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every morning, I'm greeted with a sleepy smile and a "where are we going today". I smile and say "To the moon baby, to the moon". My heart walks next to me at the park, rides behind me in the car and gives me 1 2 3 4 5 good night kisses before bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I go to sleep. I get up at least twice, just to make sure this person isn't just a dream. Then I wake every morning only to question how I was so lucky, to be so blessed, by a soul that's so pure... it pulls at mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This someone call's me Mommy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am this someones role model.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am this someones whole world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This someone is my whole world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My whole reason for living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 7th, 2005 will always be the day that forever changed my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommy loves you, Anna Banana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-6550529476632856665?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/6550529476632856665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=6550529476632856665' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6550529476632856665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6550529476632856665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/07/love-doesnt-make-world-go-round-love-is.html' title='Love doesn&apos;t make the world go &apos;round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/SIYiS3dBQnI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5mRfgWWPjPU/s72-c/l_53c0b5f2d70eac563a8e15455b62472c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-6122105007058986913</id><published>2008-07-21T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T07:39:24.057-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck Yeah.</title><content type='html'>Major blog actionz coming your way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TODAY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-6122105007058986913?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/6122105007058986913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=6122105007058986913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6122105007058986913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6122105007058986913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/07/fuck-yeah.html' title='Fuck Yeah.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-3541195200015320547</id><published>2008-07-17T05:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T05:45:25.201-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Swing line.</title><content type='html'>I always come here wanting to express what's on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Then, once I am here, I just lack the desire to blog about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I need to change this horrible trend of blog avoiding I have so recklessly developed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Maybe.  Just... maybe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-3541195200015320547?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/3541195200015320547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=3541195200015320547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/3541195200015320547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/3541195200015320547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/07/swing-line.html' title='Swing line.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8491644648553306384</id><published>2008-05-02T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T06:03:06.454-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unfinished.</title><content type='html'>I'm a rebel. My insides made of gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scream hate, when all you want to hear is love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fading lights and empty hall ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My arms stretched tight, for that soul I hold close tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Big steps towards the end of this line.  I'll never look back and tell you I'm fine.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8491644648553306384?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8491644648553306384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8491644648553306384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8491644648553306384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8491644648553306384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/05/unfinished.html' title='Unfinished.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-2272328179237321615</id><published>2008-04-14T17:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T17:47:11.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It happens.</title><content type='html'>I seem to have issues updating this when I am actually in a good mood, or a better place, mentally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; What can I say?  I know I'm a drama queen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I will say I'm the happiest I've been in 3 months though. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-2272328179237321615?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/2272328179237321615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=2272328179237321615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2272328179237321615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2272328179237321615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/it-happens.html' title='It happens.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-531581192091699673</id><published>2008-04-10T17:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T17:32:04.667-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There are no regrets in life, just lessons.</title><content type='html'>It feels like everyday gets easier, but it's still new, so I am still unsure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I find that I'm better off and I question whether or not it's what my heart truly wanted.  I feel like I am in the phase of wanting what doesn't want me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I am going to do what is best for me from now on, while still thinking of others.  Looking back on the past few years of my life,  I've been in such a low spot.  I've been less optimistic than I should have and I've taken without giving.  Selfish would be one word to describe who I've been, but that only scratches the surface.  I honestly make myself ill when I think about how I could have treated others with the respect they had given me.  I feel like I have taken advantage of people, but in the same light, I've had really shitty people take advantage of me.  Those shitty people were the one's I held in regard and that was wrong of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I guess I have had a lot of thinking time the last few days.  I hate it and I enjoy it.  Taking a new light on my life and fixing the damage from the past is a good start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I go to talk to my therapist next week.  I am happy about that though.  I feel like I have been trying to solve my own problems and it hasn't gotten me anywhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-531581192091699673?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/531581192091699673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=531581192091699673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/531581192091699673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/531581192091699673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/there-are-no-regrets-in-life-just.html' title='There are no regrets in life, just lessons.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-5947422143955310299</id><published>2008-04-10T07:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T07:15:37.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday.</title><content type='html'>I totally rhymed in the last blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-5947422143955310299?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/5947422143955310299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=5947422143955310299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5947422143955310299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5947422143955310299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/thursday.html' title='Thursday.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8790023840695894129</id><published>2008-04-09T16:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T16:55:39.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah.</title><content type='html'>Ever think people doing things intentionally, just to piss you off or get to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just makes me like them a little less each day.  I only take so much abuse, until I reach the point where I say, Fuck you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8790023840695894129?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8790023840695894129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8790023840695894129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8790023840695894129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8790023840695894129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/yeah.html' title='Yeah.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8778897080726095917</id><published>2008-04-08T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T15:52:42.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It takes love seconds to say Hello, but forever to say Goodbye.</title><content type='html'>When one door closes, another one opens.  Or so the saying goes.  I can't help but think the saying is true, even if it's something I don't want to believe right now. I have all of these new doors opening but I'm keeping my foot wedged in the one trying to close.  Although I've been faced with the brutal truth, my heart doesn't want to let it close.   Letting go right now leaves me with a horrible ache in my heart and almost makes me sick.  Even though I know it's what I need to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Time heals a broken heart, right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Although things are tough right now, I have a lot of amazing opportunities that have come up.  I feel like I am finally heading in the right direction, after years of going in the opposite direction.  I feel more like myself and more responsible than I've ever been.  It's just hard to believe it all had to happen after the fall.  I guess that's how the story goes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I've been through so much that I face tough situations with ease.  I walk with my head held high, when inside I feel as though I'm dying.  This too shall pass, like a great friend always tells me.  In the end, this will be just a small scar, from the past that made me who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  It's always scary when you don't know what the future brings.  Especially when you're like me and you need all the answers laid out in front of you.  I do know that I have a future though and I feel like it will be a great one.  Having faith is what matters at this point and I have a lot of faith in what's to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8778897080726095917?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8778897080726095917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8778897080726095917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8778897080726095917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8778897080726095917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/it-takes-love-seconds-to-say-hello-but.html' title='It takes love seconds to say Hello, but forever to say Goodbye.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-1224998981667207429</id><published>2008-04-07T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T20:21:40.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here.</title><content type='html'>I cannot sleep.  This sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  All of it.  It sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Ugh.  I hate meeting new people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-1224998981667207429?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/1224998981667207429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=1224998981667207429' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/1224998981667207429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/1224998981667207429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/here.html' title='Here.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-1019941945858102779</id><published>2008-04-07T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T08:17:57.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>.</title><content type='html'>I really want to get my hair done today.  I think I'm just going to say fuck it and get it done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I'm also avoiding doing work again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Tisk. Tisk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-1019941945858102779?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/1019941945858102779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=1019941945858102779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/1019941945858102779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/1019941945858102779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/blog-post.html' title='.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-2066753794221510996</id><published>2008-04-07T06:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T06:28:41.688-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I wish I were a little kid again, skinned knees are easier to fix than broken hearts.</title><content type='html'>I hate when I have nothing to write.  I have so much on my mind, but that's where it sit's.  It's impossible to put into words or express on here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   One minute I'm fine and the next, I'm not.  I just wish my heart would comply with my thoughts.  I wish I didn't feel sick over this anymore and I wish I could just move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   All I want is to worry about myself but I'm finding it nearly impossible to do.  Although, I've been pushed in the right direction, I still need that extra push to move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I feel like I'm being lied to, which is fine.  I've become part of the past and I'll be ok with that, one day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I just want to get over you.  I want to not like you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-2066753794221510996?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/2066753794221510996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=2066753794221510996' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2066753794221510996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2066753794221510996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/sometimes-i-wish-i-were-little-kid.html' title='Sometimes I wish I were a little kid again, skinned knees are easier to fix than broken hearts.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8835633890153963751</id><published>2008-04-02T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T11:14:10.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled.</title><content type='html'>Is it weird that I only blog about my feelings.  I'm an open person, but in a different way than others.  I'm open in areas where most people would close  up.  Not that I find anyone walking donw the street (like the Kleenex guy) and tell them all about my life, or my crazy emotional ventures.  I do love to share on my blog, though.  I've heard most people enjoy blogging so much, because it's comparable to being a celebrity.  You have others looking in on your life, others lurking for information on your next move.  Exciting!  I would love to know who &lt;em&gt;really &lt;/em&gt;lurked on here, my blog, not just blogspot, duh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  This week alone, has been a venture.  What's new, right?  So many conflicting thoughts, interests and desires have been thrown my way.  It's complicating.  Extremely, to be honest.  It seems like you get everything else on track, only to have 100 other things go  under.  I find humor in it now, like seriously, getting mad is retarded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I've made some choices I feel will make me happy in the long run.  I painted a bomb ass fucking painint and I'm finishing some jewelry.  I'm as happy as pie.  If pie is happy... ?  I would be happy eating pie, right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to run errands.  Fer shizzle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hair appointment tomorrow!  Yay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8835633890153963751?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8835633890153963751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8835633890153963751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8835633890153963751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8835633890153963751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/untitled.html' title='Untitled.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-5321496490478537867</id><published>2008-04-01T18:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T18:27:33.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ladies. Ladies.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;APRIL FOOLS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-5321496490478537867?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/5321496490478537867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=5321496490478537867' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5321496490478537867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5321496490478537867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/ladies-ladies.html' title='Ladies. Ladies.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8249755058726312477</id><published>2008-04-01T13:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T13:22:10.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's true.</title><content type='html'>I'm pregnant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8249755058726312477?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8249755058726312477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8249755058726312477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8249755058726312477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8249755058726312477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-true.html' title='It&apos;s true.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-5136779153085690074</id><published>2008-03-31T05:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T10:53:49.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.</title><content type='html'>I've found that life is one big trial, at leas it appears that way to me. We are constantly confronted with temporary road blocks. We take the detours and follow the road that suites us best. Or, if you're like me, you take the bumpy road. It's always the road you're never familiar with and you're usually unsure of where it might lead you. We are tested on our abilities to handle hard situations, how to remove negativity from our lifes and do what it takes to succeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many people have different definitions for succeeding. There are several ways to succeed too, depending on who you're talking to, I suppose. Succeeding to me is being 100%, for me, for my daughter and those who mean the most to me. I want to die knowing I was the best mother Anna could ever ask for. I want to know I made people smile. That I was special to one person, so special it made their heart ache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The low's in my life are slowly fading away. I've grown up and I know the steps to take, to move on. I look back on my life and the poor decisions I've made, it's such a blur now. I might never know why I made some of the decisions I did, but I know that isn't me anymore. With everyday that goes by, I feel like a better person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to ask for closure, when you're not totally sure what went wrong in that certain situation. I always ask myself if closure would even help, or make it worse. I think I'm finally to the point where I don't need closure. I have been on a rollercoaster of emotions, for some time now and it's not worth it to keep trying. So, closure almost seems silly, it would only leave more emotions and broken hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning and felt different. Different about almost everything I've associated with for the last year. Some good, some bad. I just know that the way I feel, is the way I should feel. Letting go is the hardest part, but it will make the rest of my life easier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-5136779153085690074?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/5136779153085690074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=5136779153085690074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5136779153085690074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5136779153085690074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/03/we-judge-ourselves-by-what-we-feel.html' title='We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-550992400046990413</id><published>2008-03-27T19:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T05:59:07.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grass between my toes.</title><content type='html'>Wow. It's been a while since I last updated. I guess, like so many of us claim, I've had a lot going on. What's odd is, during this time I haven't updated, I've thought of updating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much has changed, for the good and for the not so good. Such is life, with the good comes the bad. I would say that the majority of changes that have taken place, have been for the better. I've taken what has been laid in front of me, with stride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself going to Church more and drinking a lot less. Making more friends and less enemies. Being responsible and carrying myself. I feel great and I think I look great. I haven't been this happy in a long time and it has helped so many aspects of my life.  Being a mother has become something truly meaningful to me.  Not that it wasn't before, but as Anna grows, I see her in this new light.  She is such a lady, she is smart and beautiful.  She also adores me and looks up to me in everyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally found the job I've waiting a year to find.  I love it and it feels so good to get up every morning and go to work.  Although, I am blogging while I should be working.  Nobody's perfect right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I do need to get back to work.  I tell myself everyday, that I plan on blogging that day.  Maybe now I will actually start doing it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-550992400046990413?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/550992400046990413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=550992400046990413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/550992400046990413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/550992400046990413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/03/grass-between-my-toes.html' title='Grass between my toes.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-5511713928727048069</id><published>2008-01-20T11:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T11:24:29.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you.</title><content type='html'>Today is weird.  To say the least.  I feel nauseous, anxious and confused.  I for once, have yet to let my emotions get the best of me.  I've just been thinking a lot, since last night.  Well, for the last month to be honest.  Last weeks chain of events impacted me the hardest, but when one door closes... another opens.  This all obviously happened for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I had this set plan.  I was pumped and ready to go.  Now, I'm back at square one.  Rethinking my options.  While not eliminating the other.  I just feel like I haven't given myself much credit.  I gave myself one option and listed it as my only way out of this mess.  Yet, I haven't really played out my other options, nor have I even tried to.  I feel like I have a lot in me, to do right by myself, but I've spent so much time being hard on me, that I over looked it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Someone told me last night, it seemed as though I had no guidance.  Not that I don't, just the kind that I need.  I cannot help but replay that over and over in my head.  I do, need more guidance than others.  I look to those I care about for an opinion, but I look to those I admire for an answer.  I try so hard to just do what others think is best for me, but in reality, they're agreeing with me.  I need that motivation, that constant, that tells me, here are your options, now fucking suck it up and get on with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Everything right now, just feel so complexed.  I feel amazing, I see what I've missed, in myself.  It just makes things more complicated now, way more complicated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-5511713928727048069?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/5511713928727048069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=5511713928727048069' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5511713928727048069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5511713928727048069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/01/your-intellect-may-be-confused-but-your.html' title='Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-4160895995285588262</id><published>2008-01-16T18:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T19:52:46.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You can close your eyes to things you don’t want to see, but you can’t close your heart to things you don’t want to feel.</title><content type='html'>My blogging is out of control.  I think I should be banned from the computer, for at least 24 hours.  Writing is my way of preoccupying myself from reality, or the things that are weighing so heavily on my heart and mind.  If I sit here, even for just 10 minutes, I won't pick up the phone or think about what he's doing.  I won't think about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I keep trying to stay positive and happy, but then I get stuck here, miserable.  All I want to do is clear my head and focus on what's important.  The thing is, I've lost part of me and it feels like it's for good.  I hate these thoughts, I hate letting go.  I cannot help but think he's done with me and it's all my fault.  I keep replaying "I should have done this, or not of said that", over and over again.  All I want is for him to not forget me, to still want me, to still care.  I wish I could take back everything I've ever done wrong, but we're human and humans make mistakes.  Only, I made too many.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I guess I just think of the negatives more than the positives.  When you lose the one thing you held so close, it isn't easy to think of positives.  It isn't easy to avoid the phone, or anything else for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I got so use to this routine.  I have so many things that happen throughout the day that I looked forward to sharing with that one person.  Weird dreams, odd people I saw, everything.  But now, now I have no one.  No one that I feel that connected with.  So, I'm stuck here, writing all of my emotions and happenings onto this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    He doesn't feel the same about me anymore and I don't blame him.  I just hate feeling so forgotten, so unwanted and useless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I guess tomorrows a new day.  I'm going to finish painting, but I'm sure I will have more to say later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I'm sorry you don't love me anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-4160895995285588262?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/4160895995285588262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=4160895995285588262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4160895995285588262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4160895995285588262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/01/you-can-close-your-eyes-to-things-you.html' title='You can close your eyes to things you don’t want to see, but you can’t close your heart to things you don’t want to feel.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-924640685085548472</id><published>2008-01-16T12:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T12:46:07.211-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Think about any attachments that are depleting your emotional reserves. Consider letting them go.</title><content type='html'>I feel like I've been so lost the last 4 years.  I feel like I'm still lost.  Only, I know where I'm going this time and I know where I've been.  I think too much, I think that will be the death of me.  I  like the moments where I'm not thinking about him.  I wish there was a way to just erase those memories.  It's those memories, or wanting to call, that slow down my day and make me wonder what it is that I'm doing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-924640685085548472?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/924640685085548472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=924640685085548472' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/924640685085548472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/924640685085548472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/01/think-about-any-attachments-that-are.html' title='Think about any attachments that are depleting your emotional reserves. Consider letting them go.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-2431833619555369010</id><published>2008-01-15T22:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T22:53:31.607-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Character is higher than intellect.  A great soul will be strong to live as well as think.</title><content type='html'>I am trying to study.  It's not working, obviously.  So, here I sit, blogging instead.  We've already been over my inabilities to sit still, or focus for extended amount of times.  It is, indeed, the inevitable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Whenever I study, it reminds me of how it's something I've never been good at.  Even if I study alone, I get all nervous with practice questions.  I act like someone's watching me, or like I actually have a time limit on that stupid question.  It's really amusing, actually.  Then, after I get all nervous, I think, "wow, Scotti, you're really lame".  Studying is just something I am totally incapable of, I am pretty sure I will always be this way.  Oh well, hopefully after this, I wont need to cope much more with tense study sessions, alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I must say, I surprise myself at how well I am with literature and word knowledge.  I somehow grasp the meaning to words I've never even heard, or seen before.  Although, I hardly give myself any credit in the grammar department.  I swear I over use commas and make a new paragraph before I've actually written seven sentences.  Oh, and I use periods a lot.  Even after one word.  See.  I would certainly deserve an F, if I were blogging for school, or writing purposes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    One thing I will never understand is math or arithmetic.  No matter how many classes I take, or how much I stuff my brain, I will never be able to understand math.  Now, if I go on a full blown study binge for a week, I will pass a test.  I can promise you though, in a weeks time, I will forget everything I just learned.  My brain hates math and over working itself to solve stupid problems like (a-b)+(a).  I know, I sound stupid, but I use the opposite side of my brain.  I am worried about this though, for my upcoming test.  I need to at least pass with an 80.  Oiy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    So.  Aside from studying and over using periods, today was pretty busy.  I will say, it was a good day and I didn't expect that.  I woke up and told myself that today would be a great day and that I would be alright.  I finally got a phone call I was waiting for.  I picked up my prescription.  Best part for last, picked me up some new canvases and paint's!  I also had a job offer at Michaels, I think I might take them up on that.  Temporarily at least.  I like crafts, crafts like me, it's a good gig!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    There was a rough patch today though.  Brian's ex found is necessary to call me.  I am really unsure why, but for some reason, she seems to think I want to work things out with Brian.  Very wrong, oh so very, very wrong.  I was an adult though and I actually think I gave her some relief.  Oh well, drama is drama and it likes me for some reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I am so proud of myself and who I am turning into.  A mature person, who will make everyone proud.  Sad, it's taken 24 years but hey, at least it's happening.  Today I had a long talk with my Mom.  I finally opened up about things and how I finally see I've depended on others for happiness.  I know that I've been nothing but a ruthless bitch, who still expected people to put up with it and be there.  It's time for me now, to renew myself, find myself and grow up.  For once, I am not worried about someone else being there, I'm worried about myself.  It feels so good.  It feels good to know I don't have to rely on shitty people, to keep me company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I'm so happy.  I'm so happy I get to see friends I lost touch with on Thursday.  Good friends I put on the back burner for worthless fucks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Back to studying now.  Or maybe I will paint.  I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Good night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-2431833619555369010?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/2431833619555369010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=2431833619555369010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2431833619555369010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2431833619555369010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/01/character-is-higher-than-intellect.html' title='Character is higher than intellect.  A great soul will be strong to live as well as think.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-7192589626222022078</id><published>2008-01-15T07:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T07:23:20.537-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The weight of things that remaind unspoken. Built up so much it crushed us everyday.</title><content type='html'>Most of us claim, or the one's who suffered more heartache than most, that we have this wall.  A wall that keeps us safe, from that heartache.  I would say the wall usually causes more damage, but it's the only thing you have, to protect yourself.  We all hate the feeling of being let down, or allowing ourselves to be totally vulnerable in an uncontrollable situation.  The emotions that hide behind that wall usually slip through the cracks and it's always followed by a glimpse of your past, you've tried so hard to forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    We try to protect ourselves and our emotions.  You try and prepare for the worst and take everything with a grain of salt.  The thing is, no matter how much you set yourself up for it, your heart never fully complies.  When you open yourself up to someone, you almost do so without knowing.  Maybe that's half the problem, preparing for the worst, instead of just allowing yourself to have an open mind and heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    My mind works in self defense mode, always.  My heart, I still haven't figured it out yet.  My heart wants what my mind doesn't.  To allow myself to be loved and wanted.  Instead, I push people away, because of my past and what I've already allowed myself to go through.  I try and blame my past for my way of thinking, but it's time to just let go.  My heart knows it wont always be the way it was then, but my mind doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    No matter what, it always feels the same.  I opened myself up, I was vulnerable and now, I hurt.  I try to say I'm an optimist but I cannot help but think, it happened again.  I know, it's my way of thinking, it's my way of not taking blame for my actions.  These are the consequences I am left with.  Pulling myself off the floor and starting all over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I know it's time to move forward.  I wont allow myself to think about what just happened, today will be a better day, and everyday here after.  It's time to start worrying more about myself and less about being alone.  I believe this is the first step to finding true love.  I've tried to look outside and in.  I see a girl, a girl who has worried too much about finding someone or something and less about herself.  A girl who isn't in a position to be her true self for someone else, because she has lost touch with herself.  When I am capable, I will be there for someone, always, not just half the time.  When I'm ready, but I guess I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The hardest part is not thinking about it and refocusing on myself.  The harder part is letting go and letting that person move on, even if it's best, it hurts so bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Everything happens for a reason and I cannot be more sure this is what I need right now.  When the time is right, someone will be there, maybe this person... maybe not.  When the time is right, I will be there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-7192589626222022078?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/7192589626222022078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=7192589626222022078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/7192589626222022078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/7192589626222022078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/01/weight-of-things-that-remaind-unspoken.html' title='The weight of things that remaind unspoken. Built up so much it crushed us everyday.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-5860834933699253687</id><published>2008-01-13T23:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T23:25:42.099-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.</title><content type='html'>I haven't updated in a while.  There are times I just get lazy, or I simply have nothing interesting to write about.  Not that my life has to be that interesting, or something spontaneous has to happen in order for me to post.  I just get in these moods, moods that tell me I have nothing to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Life is having it's ups and downs, as to be expected.  I'm just getting better at dealing with them.  I feel like I am almost to the point where I know exactly what it is I want to do.  It's weird, like some sort of clarity comes over you.  I've never really known what path to follow, I just relied on others opinions, to make mine.  I am over that shit.  I am the one who has to live this life, not them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I really don't want to go back to college.  I just feel like it isn't for me.  As much as I love learning new things, I think I like to learn more hands on.  I just don't have the tolerance to sit still for more than 5 minutes, let alone an hour.  I know my Mom really wants to see me make it through college, more so because she didn't.  I just feel like it isn't part of my big plan and it's hard to explain it to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I've made a huge decision in my life.  I am not totally ready to talk about it yet, though.  I just feel like I need to smooth over the rough parts before I see it written out.  I'm scared, I'm anxious and yet, I'm fucking proud of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I know now, I no longer need anyone but myself and Anna, to make me happy.  I know my worth.  I have done nothing but put up with pathetic people, who in turn, made me pathetic.  All because I thought I needed that extra something.  Eventually, but for now, I need to be me, 100%.  For Anna more than myself.  I feel like I want to put myself out there, but not in a desperate way.  If someone great comes along, awesome... if not, oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I've relied to much on what I thought were good instincts, but really, I ended up surrounding myself with negative people.  People I thought I could count on, but really, I couldn't.  I am so ready to let go and carry on.  I thought the letting go part would hurt more, but it actually feels pretty good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-5860834933699253687?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/5860834933699253687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=5860834933699253687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5860834933699253687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5860834933699253687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2008/01/never-allow-someone-to-be-your-priority.html' title='Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-1629952481712520165</id><published>2007-12-30T01:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T02:12:05.101-08:00</updated><title type='text'>via sidekick.</title><content type='html'>Well, this is my first blog from my phone. It is pretty interesting how far we've come with technology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I adore my phone. Its so cute and its like carrying a mini computer around. What's odd is that one of my bookmarks, well pre set, was blackplanet.com.  Turns out blackplanet.com is a black networking community. In other words, a myspace for the black community.  Oh well. You learn something new everyday, now I have a place to tell my friends about.  I also have a lot of sick downloads.   Too bad they all cost money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said goodbye to my brother today.  Its nice that there won't be as much choas in the house or as much tension but I love my brother and this is the most we've been around each other in 5 years. So, it was hard to say bye without tears.  I hope he does right and gets back in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is going to be a long day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish Brian would call me everyday. Anna is 2 and sick. Not 16 and semi responsible for herself.  He told me he would and its unfair.  I know he only gets up there once a year and he's excited but he needs to respect me, as her mother.  I guess the saying no news is good news but I hate it! I miss my baby cakes.  Ill harass him tomorrow.  I know this is why I am not sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anna is so funny. She had a blast on Christmas.  She is going to be such a character in a few years.  God, I love that little girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. I have a lot ahead of me tomorrow, so time for bed.  Yum....greek fooooood! Im so excited.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-1629952481712520165?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/1629952481712520165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=1629952481712520165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/1629952481712520165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/1629952481712520165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/via-sidekick.html' title='via sidekick.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-2544188164334299530</id><published>2007-12-26T11:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T11:26:38.013-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Endless thoughts.</title><content type='html'>I find I do most my thinking in the shower.  I have so many random thoughts, or I'll have like a great idea come to me.  I find it rather odd.  It's probably due to the fact that, it's the most peaceful place I have currently.  I don't live by any parks, or anywhere I could go and relax, so I take showers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Last night, I was watching The Flinestones.  What an odd show.  In the intro song they say "the modern stone age family".  How anyone could possibly be modern, during a stone age, is totally beyond me.  I know it's a cartoon, obviously, but I couldn't help but wonder if this is how people in the era The Flinestones was created, really thought the stone age might look like.  How when they leave their little rock house, somehow there is light in this stone house, but no candles can be seen.  Or how they had television and they drove their cars with their feet.  They also rode dinosaurs.  Could you image a politically correct Flinestones?  That would be a pretty funny show, well, maybe not.  I don't think there would be much substance to the show.  We also have no clue what really happened back then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I've also read too far into Winnie the Pooh.  Like, I find it odd Pooh never wears pants, but he always has that damn red shirt on.  Funny, a red shirt is worn at Disney, during Gay Pride day, to symbolize being gay.  Now, I have nothing wrong with Gay pride, I just find it rather ironic.  That's just my brain though, it functions differently and reads too far into different things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Today is a very boring day.  I wish my phone would just activate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-2544188164334299530?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/2544188164334299530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=2544188164334299530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2544188164334299530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2544188164334299530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/endless-thoughts.html' title='Endless thoughts.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-2172314320422237237</id><published>2007-12-24T22:49:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T23:02:19.905-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just thoughts.</title><content type='html'>It's Christmas Eve.  Well, technically it's Christmas but my days work differently because I'm a night owl.  It would be kind of rad to be an owl, they're such gorgeous birds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; You know what bugs me?  People who claim to blog and they don't, at all.  I mean, it could be because I'm such a nosey asshole, but hey, I like to read about what's going on in other people lives.  Not celebrities though, I prefer real drama.  I love to write, so blogging feels good, even though maybe 3% of the people I know, actually know about my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; On that note.  I hate people who claim to do a lot of things, they really have no clue about, or even know how to do.  Like, photography, for example.  My brother is an amazing photographer, he's never taken a class, or had any professional training.  Instead he educated himself, started with a shit camera, and worked his ass off.  The thing that gets me, is you have a place like myspace, where everyone is a fucking star.  It just gets under my skin.  Sort of like art fags, who swear they're artist, but really, they're just good at copying other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; My phone will be here on Thursday.  Pretty fucking pumped.  I'm out of things to talk about, so that's my cue for bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot wait to see Anna in the morning, I am sure her face will be priceless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-2172314320422237237?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/2172314320422237237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=2172314320422237237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2172314320422237237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2172314320422237237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/just-thoughts.html' title='Just thoughts.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-3512802048300480602</id><published>2007-12-24T22:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T22:48:13.512-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The good life is inspired by love and guided by knowledge.</title><content type='html'>Merry Christmas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I want to talk about something I've been thinking about for a long time.  Something that weighs on my mind, a lot.  I guess it's sort of my take, or outlook of sorts on the human race and how stupid we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Why is it, when we are in school, we are taught to except every person for who they are.  Why, when we are young, are we told to be an individual and follow the path we want.  I find it all very contradicting.  It seems as though, when we become a certain age, this is no longer relevant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; People judge those who seek their own individuality.  We look at homeless people with transparent eyes, as though they don't exist.  We treat others as though they're not up to our standards, if we feel we're better than they are.   Racism is still as bad as it was 20 years ago, it's just shadowed and over looked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; What are we really teaching our children.  That being dishonest is alright?  That because someone worked their ass off for 20 years to be considered upper class, isn't as good as though born into a comfortable life.  Our society is a painful one to watch and at times I am saddened for our youth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The only hope we have, is that one day my generation will be the one in charge.  Those who fight for what they believe in, and stand up for one another.  The one's who look at our earth as a being, that needs to be respected.  The one's who see our children for the true artists they can be, if they want.  Love, respect and peace is my wish for us, as a race.  I want to see animals treated as equals, I want there to be no hungry mouths, true artist's with ambitions, who aren't afraid to be the person they are deep inside.  I want the world to wear their heart on their sleeve, I want the world to sleep with a peaceful mind every night, I want the world to breathe easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I know this is all a long way away, or probably never even possible.  All I can do is hope.  Hope my daughter always stands up for what she believes in,  and not afraid to ever walk the streets alone, or never go hungry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-3512802048300480602?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/3512802048300480602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=3512802048300480602' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/3512802048300480602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/3512802048300480602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/good-life-is-inspired-by-love-and.html' title='The good life is inspired by love and guided by knowledge.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-4937493423205693107</id><published>2007-12-21T22:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T22:28:32.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In a great big world, I am really small.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Book Antiqua, Times New Roman, Times;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;     "Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The trouble-makers.     The round heads in the square holes. The ones who see things differently.     They're not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status-quo. You     can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them. But the only     thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the     human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see     genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the     world, are the ones who do."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Book Antiqua, Times New Roman, Times;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; I've always enjoyed that quote.  Funny, it's from Apple computers.  I don't think that matters, when I read it, I think about myself.  I think about how I've always taken the less beaten path, I never followed the rules and I was told "Scotti, you'll never make it".  Well, look at me now.  The thing is, the path I decided to take is what made me what I am today, an individual.  Sadly, the one's who told me I would never make, couldn't say the same thing about themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; A huge fight took place here last night.  When I say huge, what I mean is; big, ugly and we were all out for blood.  As bad and angry as I was, I'm glad it happened.  It needed to happen, we were all able to get a lot of built up tension out.  I was to the point where I never wanted to speak to my family again, I was so angry.  The thing is, I know they love me and want whats best.  Their methods just aren't always as effective as I know they would like for them to be.  So, we're in the "calm after the storm" phase.  My mom and I were able to talk and I got to speak freely, as did she.  It's over and that's all that matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I haven't really spoken about the decision I've made, probably one of the biggest decisions I'll ever make.  I feel it isn't the right time yet.  Once I get the kinks worked out, I will dedicate a whole blog to this decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Next week I'm going to relax like I've never relaxed before.  I'm going to take in all the happiness I have laid in front of me, with huge breaths.  I am going to love Joey, like he's never known, or I've known even.  I am going to spend the week with no worries, no cares.  Care free is a good word... a free spirit of sorts.   I'm going to have the best time of my life.  I am going to bring 2008 as I should, like it's going to be the best year of my life, because it is.  2008, you bitch, every ounce of me is ready for you.  Let's get this shit started as we should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I really don't know what else I feel I should write about.  I'm so happy at this moment.  I will admit, a lot of that happiness is coming from my new Sidekick that will be here on Thursday.  I am also a weirdo and I hate to run blogs together.  Too many feelings in on entry calls for a headache, you feel me, literally?  Speaking of which, I only have 3 soda's today.  All the corporate folks at Pepsi I'm sure felt a slight tug on the heart today, or stock, when they lost me as a loyal customer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GOODNIGHT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&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/7856952099715842999-4937493423205693107?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/4937493423205693107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=4937493423205693107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4937493423205693107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4937493423205693107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/in-great-big-world-i-am-really-small.html' title='In a great big world, I am really small.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-7441209373953355531</id><published>2007-12-18T13:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T14:03:55.843-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It makes one a better person to have had hardships and to have overcome hardships and not to blame anybody else for your mistakes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Today overall, was a good day.  I feel like I accomplished a lot.  It required a lot of driving, which is something I always hate.  I did a few good deeds too.  I always count my good deeds, I swear, Karma is real.  I gave a homeless man a dollar, which made me feel cheap, but it counts right?  I gave a lady her card back, that she left in the ATM.  I'm not going to lie, I thought about checking her balance, to see if maybe she could spare 20 bucks, but I didn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I was a very polite and outgoing person today.  Funny when you can pin point your moods, and how they determine the outcome of your day.  I find if your polite, even the nastiest person, can't help but smile in return.  I really try to live everyday like I did today, everyday is a good day, if you allow it to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Each day it's getting easier to brush negative people and generally bad attitudes off my shoulder.  That must be why Jay z says "brush the dirt of your shoulder", at least I think that's what he says.  People who aren't exactly that, dirt on your shoulder.  A dead weight.  My life is much easier without the dead weight. I'm moving forward, which was something I couldn't achieve before,  I had too many scum bags holding me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Would I be a terrible person if I liked Britney Spears latest CD?  I refuse to buy it, so I figured I would download it for free on limewire.  I think anyone who incapable of taking care of their kids, with that much money, doesn't deserve a time.  She should be a slave to society, for a year or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I am about to cut my bangs.  No more side bangs.  Momma is moving up to straight bangs.  They're adorable.  I am kind of diggin' this more natural look I have going on.  I look a lot like my Mom in her younger days, very natural and earthy.  I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peacecore loves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-7441209373953355531?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/7441209373953355531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=7441209373953355531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/7441209373953355531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/7441209373953355531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/it-makes-one-better-person-to-have-had.html' title='It makes one a better person to have had hardships and to have overcome hardships and not to blame anybody else for your mistakes.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-6258788343656085436</id><published>2007-12-17T16:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T13:51:16.912-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Were it not for music, we might in these days say, the Beautiful is dead.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; One of my favorite things in the world, is when I find a CD or I hear a band I haven't listened to in a while.  It's almost like this refreshing sense of feeling comes back over your body.  Especially if it's a band you've loved since you found them 4 years ago, but their music just gets better and better.  New or old, their music is soft on the ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Stars happens to be one of those bands for me.  Whenever I hear a new song of theirs, I get an almost euphoric feeling all over me.  I feel like I relate to everything they sing about, they make such a bold statement in every word they sing.  Their sound is ambient and meaningful.  I just, love everything about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music is and always be a big part of my life.  I love hearing new and undiscovered talent.  I love old generations and new, I love any artist passionate about what they're singing about and why.  Anyone with a message.  You can feel a good song in your veins, in your heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-6258788343656085436?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/6258788343656085436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=6258788343656085436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6258788343656085436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6258788343656085436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/were-it-not-for-music-we-might-in-these.html' title='Were it not for music, we might in these days say, the Beautiful is dead.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8632895257830365600</id><published>2007-12-17T08:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T08:13:37.718-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I like muffins.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;  I feel I was blessed with a daughter who is truly a comedian at times.  Although she doesn't know it yet.  I kind of like that though, I don't want her to be one of those kids who does things just for attention.  Her antics come naturally.  Just this morning, as I was getting her dressed, she said "I like muffins".  It was very random but now it's stuck in my head.  Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve Anna.  She is going to be an amazing person one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I don't have much to do today, I guess that's why I'm already blogging.  Tomorrow is going to be my Monday.  I have a lot to accomplish tomorrow.  Today laundry is the only thing on my agenda.  Oh, and I am going to stop drinking soda today.  Big goal right there, so I guess I would have a lot to do.  Like prep myself mentally at the idea of no longer having a daily caffeine intake.  I need this though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; You know.  I hate soda.  It makes me ugly and bloated.  So, why is it nearly impossible to quit?  I guess some thing's will never be fully explained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I will be in Charlotte two weeks from now.  Rather exciting I would say.  I really miss fried pickles.  I guess I really miss Joey too.  I hope he reads this.  haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Alright.  I am out of things to jabber about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8632895257830365600?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8632895257830365600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8632895257830365600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8632895257830365600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8632895257830365600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-like-muffins.html' title='I like muffins.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-5794444369181243652</id><published>2007-12-14T12:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T13:02:30.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lazy people are always eager to be doing something.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I find myself often looking for things to do, when really, I should be doing something slightly more productive.  As in, I should actually do what I had originally intended on doing.  What happens is I have all these chores planned out for the day, then I get turned off by the idea of doing them, so instead I search for something new to accomplish.  Then what ends up happening is, I get nothing done.  Mostly because the whole time I was searching for the new thing to do, the old chores get pushed aside.  I guess I teeter on the verge of a procrastinator title at times.  I find the most unproductive things to preoccupy my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I guess that would be why my teachers tried extra hard with me, or my parent's are always looking for new ways to motivate me.  Now, it isn't that I'm unmotivated, I could honestly say I have more goals than anyone I've ever met.  It's the fact that I lose interest in the task at hand, or I feel I am not being challenged enough.  I get bored very fast if something doesn't stay interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I guess that's why I miss school.  Although it wasn't always interesting, it was work that made me use my brain, unlike most the things I do throughout my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Oh well, I'm rambling and using my blogging as an excuse to avoid cleaning, or over texting people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-5794444369181243652?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/5794444369181243652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=5794444369181243652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5794444369181243652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/5794444369181243652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/lazy-people-are-always-eager-to-be.html' title='Lazy people are always eager to be doing something.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8587054236124544146</id><published>2007-12-13T20:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T21:11:19.885-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye 2007.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;  This is my farewell, to possibly one of the most awkward years I've ever experienced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have taught me so much about myself.  Who I'm willing to let in, what I want out of life and who I am.  Although I haven't embraced you with open arms, I feel so lucky to have had this year, this was my year.  Not the best year, but it was amazing at times, even when I hit rock bottom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year I actually put myself out there.  I met new people, I dated new people, I lost people.  I had the chance to truly find out who I was inside, who I can be, who I am at my worst and at my best.  If I hadn't put myself out there, or dated those people, I would still be who I was when I started this year.  I won't say I'm happy I met certain people, but they were worth the lessons learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've finally learned that I've been less than responsible and it's time to step up.  If I want to be a role model to the beautiful Anna, I need to make an effort.  I need to make an effort myself and prove to those around me that I am amazing.  I have all these abilities bottled up inside, that I've never given a chance, until now.  I have no reason to believe I wont succeed.  I will succeed and I'm going to awesome at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really found out who the true people were in my life.  I held onto bad relationship and negative people, because I thought they were all I had.  I was so wrong.  I've learned what my worth is and I'm worth a lot more than what they were willing to give.  A true friend sticks by you, no matter what.  A true friend never lies or goes behind your back.  I am really proud of myself, I finally weeded my over grown garden and I feel so much better.  I was so worried about pleasing the wrong people, that I lost touch with the important people I have around me.  So, I say... good riddance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toward the end of the year is when my life really turned upside down, but in the best way possible.  The last few months of 2007 have been the best of my life, the best.  I mean that with everything I have inside of me, I've never been so confident of something.  I feel like I fell in love for the first time.  No, I know I did.  I knew an hour after I met him, I would spend the rest of my life with him.  I met the person who finally broke through the wall I've had up my whole life, he did it with the same feelings.  I know he loves me with everything he has and that's what makes it amazing.  He makes me feel brand new and like I can do anything I put my mind to.  He gives me the confidence I had a hard time finding within in myself.  August my life changed forever and I'm so happy it did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was also blessed to have another healthy and happy Anna all year.  I feel like the luckiest Mom ever at times.  She is so bright and she learns so quickly.  She has always been there for hugs and kisses, whenever I needed them.  Her face brights up when she sees me first thing in the morning, she smiles when she looks at me and kisses me before bed every night.  She's a beautiful little girl and I'm so lucky she's mine.  Brian finally making and effort to be in her life has also made things easier and better.  I am so proud of the changes he's made for her, when I can be honest and say I doubted him.  She is truly blessed to have a wonderful Dad in her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, there have been times I could've sworn this was the worst year, but I was wrong, so very wrong.  I've gained so much.  From here on out I know I am going to function at my best, at all times.  I'm a better person, with my goals intact and I am so thankful.  I am thankful I never gave up, when I really wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward to what 2008 has in store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8587054236124544146?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8587054236124544146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8587054236124544146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8587054236124544146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8587054236124544146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/goodbye-2007.html' title='Goodbye 2007.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8692749710567676490</id><published>2007-12-13T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T20:39:08.524-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Non-violence leads to the highest ethics, which is the goal of all evolution. Until we stop harming all other living beings, we are still savages.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; I've found that being a vegetarian is something I committed whole heartedly too.  It's something I believe in, I'm proud of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The funny thing is, it isn't just not eating meat.  It changes your whole outlook on the whole idea of eating meat.  I find myself thinking more about animal rights, how animals feel.  I was driving the other day about how much animal interact with us, but we somehow find a way of justifying eating them.  I understand that humans are built for eating meat, the thing is we have a mind, we can control what we put in our bodies.  I hold nothing against those that have decided to eat meat, it just isn't for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Once Anna hits 3, she will also be a veggie.  Not to sound like a hypocrite, I just don't consider myself advanced enough to be able to supplement her protein intake right now, with what she gains from Chicken and dairy.  She does however have more of a taste for any kind of veggie, rice and beans and soy products.  I was the same way growing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; On that note, I've decided that I am going Vegan, for sure.  No more dairy.  This will be one of my goals for 2007.  I find the vegan transition to be the only complicated one for me.  I already drink vegan beer, so at least I have that covered, ha.  People don't realize how easy the veggie transition was, cutting meat out of my diet was the easiest thing to do, I guess b.c I grew disgusted with myself and the fact that I was putting part of another soul into my body.  Plus, I could live off black bean burgers, so good.  Not only that, but the health issues at hand.  I feel so much better, after I eat I don't feel like dying.  I've lost 5lbs and haven't seen it in 3 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just thought I'd share.  I felt the need to ramble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8692749710567676490?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8692749710567676490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8692749710567676490' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8692749710567676490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8692749710567676490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/non-violence-leads-to-highest-ethics.html' title='Non-violence leads to the highest ethics, which is the goal of all evolution. Until we stop harming all other living beings, we are still savages.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-6677230157980680996</id><published>2007-12-11T13:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T13:30:01.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm leaving... but not on a jet plane.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; I've decided I am moving.  I need this, I want this and I can feel every part of me agreeing.  My heart and my mind, for once.  I know this is the right decision.  I need to be on my own, I need to be responsible for myself and start what I hope to be the best chapter of my life.  A new, fresh start with awesome company and possibly a lovely Great Dane named Rupert. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; My own place, with awkward art deco furniture, in weird colors like pastel green.  My own couch to sprawl across in my underwear and toe socks, while eating my friend onions.  A place that stays clean and isn't loud at all hours of the day.  I like peace, lot's of peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ok, this isn't just about art deco furniture and quite.  It's about meeting someone I see myself having a life with too.  My having a new life.  So, I'm moving to Charlotte.  The goal is to be looking into places and jobs by Mid February and the actual move, I'm not sure yet.  I am so excited though.  I am really motivating myself for this.  I know it's what I need and what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yippe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-6677230157980680996?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/6677230157980680996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=6677230157980680996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6677230157980680996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6677230157980680996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-leaving-but-not-on-jet-plane.html' title='I&apos;m leaving... but not on a jet plane.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-4768407400111263151</id><published>2007-12-11T12:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T13:18:34.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I haven't updated in a few days.  I blame that on the lack of internet I had in this house.  Not my inability to post a blog.  I actually have a lot to blog about, the good, the bad and the fucking ugly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Things have gotten better, a lot better actually.  I feel like I actually have some direction in life now.  I am still confused on what I plan on doing, but I have a general idea and I think that's all that counts.  For now anyway...  I knew 3 months ago I met the one person who understood me.  I guess with relationships you will always have the lows and the highs, but it's getting through the lows and sticking together that counts.  This person has showed me so much.  The last week has been such a high and I couldn't be happier. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I've found I am experiencing new emotions, good one's.  They're just at times hard to explain.  I was so worried a week ago how my life was going to turn out because it seemed as though everything was caving in on me.  I am actually glad this happened, it taught me a lot about myself and how well I truly can handle situations.  I know now I am stronger than most people and no matter what, I'll always be ok.  I've also enjoyed not having internet for the last week, it forced me to break bad habits. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Over the weekend it was finally clear on who I can honestly consider a good friend.  I am sick to my stomach that I actually trusted certain people.  Not even certain people, one person, someone I will never call a friend as long as I live.  People who try to constantly point out your flaws to others, are only trying to cover their flaws.  They're very obvious flaws.  What's funny, I trusted you.  Then you blew that whole scam up yourself.  My Dad always said "You can't bull shit a bull shitter".  I think that holds true, especially when your lies suck.  Karma will find you, and it appears yours is starting to catch up to you.  How stupid of you, to try and down talk to me, to someone who loves me more than you ever would.  You are a sad, pathetic and very stupid girl.  I can only hope one day you grow up, then maybe you will find happiness.  Until then, stop trying to ruin everyone else's.  Another thing, you might have 100 friends but only half of them know the real you, the one that trash talks everyone behind their back.  They don't know the lush, who can't even remember if she ran someone over at the end of the night.  What a huge weight lifted off my chest and after today you will never be mentioned again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided I would post several blogs on several issues today.  Just because I'm weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-4768407400111263151?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/4768407400111263151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=4768407400111263151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4768407400111263151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4768407400111263151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/only-limit-to-our-realization-of.html' title='The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-300226656909393352</id><published>2007-12-03T01:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T02:03:51.797-08:00</updated><title type='text'>5 AM.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I can't sleep.  I have to be work in an hour.  Just great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I've done for the last 8 hours is cry.  I'm trying so hard to be a strong person, but it seems near impossible right now.  I guess I can say I know what a true heart break feels like.  I never imagined I could be so hurt, in so many ways, all at once. I really thought I met someone I would spend the rest of my life with.  I was honest to God positive he was the one.  Now, now I just feel lost.  I feel so stupid, so used and vulnerable.  I know everyone says you need to just worry about yourself,  but it's not easy to just shut off your emotions.  I looked up to him, I never thought he would let me down like this.  I guess it goes to show, you can never be too sure, and nothing last forever.  I let my guard down and now I'm the fool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where do I go from here?  I'm so scared to be alone now.  I am so worried what tomorrow will feel like and I am so scared of losing him forever.  I know they say everything happens for a reason, but how do you know it's the right decision.  I am trying to find all the possible ways to cut him out of my life, but I can't do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I need to focus on myself now.  Work, get my life together and be a good person.  It's just a matter of trying to stay busy, so I don't feel this way.  I don't want to feel like this anymore.  I hurt so bad, my whole body, my heart.  I don't want to go back to the partying but I know it's coming.  It's my escape.  It's pathetic I feel bad for myself.  I would never wish this heartache on anyone.  I feel like I lost a part of myself.  I feel like I lost my soul mate.  I'm angry that he gave up, I deserved more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows.  Maybe the outcome will be ok.  Maybe I'll be ok.  I know I wasn't always pleasant, so this could be what it takes to make me really change my attitude.  I need to change my outlook on life and the people I surround myself with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's obvious I put my faith in the wrong one's. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-300226656909393352?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/300226656909393352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=300226656909393352' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/300226656909393352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/300226656909393352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/5-am.html' title='5 AM.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-2457648010203681987</id><published>2007-12-02T18:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T19:30:43.555-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it odd what can happen in such a short amount of time.  You would never think two days could have more action than your whole year alone.  My life is a roller coaster, there is no denying.  I have the chance to change that though, it makes me sad but I have to start with the things that make my life the hardest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to dedicate this post to how awesome I am, I already know.  If others don't, or disagree with me, well... they're stupid.  I have so much to give, so many thing's I am good at and I love with everything I have.  I know I've made mistakes, we all do.  I know I have had a rough year, but you know what, the good people stuck by my side.  I am so grateful for those people.  The others who walked away, I could give a shit about you.  Honestly, you're not even worth shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time for me to let go.  It's been a good ride, short lived but it's better that way.  No need to invest any more of myself into a big lie.  I feel so bad for people who don't take risks, or live life the way they want to.  I feel bad for those who let others decide their happiness.  You will live a very lonely life.  I have to much to offer someone, only to get let down every other month.  I was so sad but now the clouds aren't so gray, I am going to be ok.  I thought you were the reason I was happy, you're not.  I'm happy because of me, my daughter and those who hold an honest place in my heart.  I was so afraid of what my life might be without you in it, now I see I'm a strong person and everything happens for a reason.  I will be much happier without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I truly feel sorry for you.  I loved you so much, so much.  I would have given anything I had for you, I would of always been there for you, through it all.  We very seldom find our true love, I thought you were mine but it obviously wasn't the same for you.  You are fake and you played with my heart, you don't have the right to use me at your will.  I don't even wish you the best, you don't deserve the best.  I hope you meet someone who you adore, then does what you did to my heart to yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hurts like hell to walk away from this but I cannot make anyone who doesn't want me stay.  It's going to be rough, but I look forward to what's going to happen next.  Maybe that great person is waiting right outside this emotional wall for me.  I have an idea of who it might be, funny I didn't see this person in this light before, but maybe I needed this.  I needed this to show me it was ok to love, even with the heartache.  I feel so much better and I'm not afraid anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't love you anymore.  At all.  I have no respect for you.  Matter of fact, I have nothing at all for you.  Everything I ever said to you means nothing now... nothing at all.  You burned this bridge and you must live with the consequences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-2457648010203681987?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/2457648010203681987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=2457648010203681987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2457648010203681987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/2457648010203681987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/12/goodbye.html' title='Goodbye.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-8995842650776899646</id><published>2007-11-29T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-30T12:56:28.851-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She who trims herself to suit everyone will soon whittle herself away.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; "Man, it's so hard not to act so reckless"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was asked recently by someone who I thought mattered to find one thing about myself that I loved.  I figured, I could find more than one.  Just to spite this person, let them know, you don't just give up on the one's you claim "mean so much".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scotti Erin.  I'll admit, I'm a complexed person.  There is no getting around it, but that makes me who I am.  I could be boring, or rather dull, like some people I know.  Then everyone would miss out on the conversation about my weird habits, or my odd knowledge of random facts about random things.  Without complexion or complicated things, the whole world would be one most of us wouldn't want to live in.  As irritated as we might get at complication, there is a reason the good people stick around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, for what I love about myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Well, for starters, I love how happy I get when I hear Young Turks by Rod Stewart.  I love how any song can change my disposition before the first chorus hits.  I love that I am so hard to figure out, I keep people on their toes and I think that's why they always come back for more.  I love that no matter what, I never let anyone else change the way I feel about things or someone.  I guess that's where Young Turks would come in, never let anyone else change the way you feel, true love only comes once and I'm not afraid to love.  I love how I can take a serious situation and make it fun.  I love my sarcasm and ability to laugh at anything, no matter how stupid it might be to someone else. I love my ability to love people for who they are and no matter what I give everyone a chance.  I stand my guard and I'm never afraid to call shitty people out on who they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I love that I can run half naked on a beach at 3 in the morning.  I love that I listen to everything someone has to say and I never judge, until I have facts.  I love the way I look at people I admire, and I love that I admire strong people.  I love not being afraid to wear the most ridiculous outfits out in public, because they make me happy.  I love getting excited over hats and purses and shoes!  I love how good I look in black, blue and green eye shadow.  I love my body for what it is and I love that I can tattoo an ice cream cone on my side and still look awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I do love myself.  Some might not think I do but it's their loss.  One more thing is I forgive but I don't forget and once you cross that line with me, it's hard to go back.  You don't hurt the one's you love and I would never. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So, when you regret the decision you made or you wished I was all you had.  Just come back and read this, as a reminder of what you might never have again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-8995842650776899646?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/8995842650776899646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=8995842650776899646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8995842650776899646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/8995842650776899646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/11/she-who-trims-herself-to-suit-everyone.html' title='She who trims herself to suit everyone will soon whittle herself away.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-1773583663479690543</id><published>2007-11-29T10:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T10:43:59.721-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There was this one time.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; Ever wonder why listening to a sad song over and over again when you're upset makes you feel better?  I really don't know why I do, but I'd like to know.  It's almost like we want to sulk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I'm really tired of life lessons or whatever this bull shit I keep putting up with would be considered.  I'm so tired of shitty fucking people.  I am tired of people you think you can count on, that up and walk away when things get tough.  I wish my life were that easy, I wish walking away from people were that easy.  Maybe I would be a happier person and I wouldn't be sitting here wasting time upset over someone who wasn't worth much anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We are put into certain situations for what reasons?  What do we gain from these?  I am still trying to figure out what I was supposed to learn from the last two mistakes.  I didn't need a third weighing on my mind, but I guess it's the way things go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Eventually my state of mind will be back to normal and I'll meet that one person, that one person that sweeps me off my feet and loves me unconditionally.  No matter what, always unconditionally.  No lies, no heartache, no turning back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The thing is, my heart hurts so bad all I want to do is yell.  I told myself I wouldn't allow this to happen again but obviously I have no control over who I let walk into my life.  I am so angry but I'm so mad, at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-1773583663479690543?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/1773583663479690543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=1773583663479690543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/1773583663479690543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/1773583663479690543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/11/there-was-this-one-time.html' title='There was this one time.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-4254309130215305999</id><published>2007-11-19T00:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T00:28:14.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fate.</title><content type='html'>I'm sure fate is something we have all questioned at some point in our life.  What is fate exactly?  Does is really exist or is it something we only wished existed?  I am really unsure at this point.  I thought I knew what fate might be.  I thought I had come across fate myself but now I don't know.  Do we know enough about fate to say whether or not you can question what might actually be fate?  Like, is it really fate if two people meet unexpectedly and fall madly in love?  What if those two people are madly in love but live far apart?  I guess that's where I actually question it, if those two people were supposed to meet, then why isn't it easier for them to be together?  Why does the situation have to be some complex? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; There really is no answer to my questions.  I know in life we are supposed to over come what is laid out in front of us.  Take everything in stride and be strong when people call you weak.  What if I am weak though?  Why is it harder for me to take these trails into hand?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I don't know if I ever will know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-4254309130215305999?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/4254309130215305999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=4254309130215305999' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4254309130215305999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/4254309130215305999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/11/fate.html' title='Fate.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7856952099715842999.post-6179837123246643839</id><published>2007-11-15T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T19:24:12.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Well, first entry.  First entries are always a little awkward.  You're never 100% sure if anyones ever going to read it, so it's hard to find what to say to yourself.  I already know myself, so an introduction would be a little unnecessary.   I guess that I could always use it as a time line.  You know, to look back and see where I was at this point in my life.  Really kind of boring, but still, possibly worth having noted on some blog for future reference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Anyway.  I'll be 24 in less than a month.  That's a little intimidating.  The good thing is, I feel like I am on the right path.  Fucking finally!  It's taken me 15 years of fucking up to get to this point.  OK, maybe not "fucking up" but damn well close.  I have a good job lined up and I'm going to renew my RE license.  I feel like the market for houses is about to crash, which means lot's of selling.  So, right now would be the perfect time to get into it and have a little extra money every month.  I plan on going back to college too but that will take some time.  I am actually switching schools, so once I register, I'm good to go.  I'm pretty sure my focus will remain in business but who knows, and that's just it, I don't know.  Business seems like the best option if you don't know, just not the math part.  I was also considering sociology but mostly because I'm lazy and that's an easy degree, to be honest.  There aren't too many career paths in the sociology field.  I could be a social worker but that's really sad and not so high on the financial end.  Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Things with Joey and I are going well.  Although we tend to get in really stupid arguments.  I think because distance and love are two really hard things to push together, they don't mesh well.  It's also hard when you have to put so much more effort into something, when you see people who have it easy.  Such is life, I suppose.  The great part is though, I truly and I mean truly, love someone.  With everything I have, I want this to work.  So, I'm willing to try harder, it just gets hard.  Right now I am hoping it gets easier with my focusing on myself.  I will be heading out there next Friday.  I can't wait, more so because I get to eat fried pickles!  That and lot's of behind closed doors kind of stuff, if you catch my drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Anna is growing everyday.  She gets more and more independent everyday.  It's so bittersweet.  I want her to always need me.  I wish at times I was more motherly to her.  Not that I'm not, I just feel like I could be more.  She is so smart and so full of life.  It's surreal to watch children grow, hard to believe I was just like her once.  So innocent and so appreciative for the small things in life.  It scares me to think she will one day have to face this scary world we live in.  I'm not ready and don't think I will ever be ready for her to have to deal with the problems this world has.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I guess thats all for tonight.  I have to work in the morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7856952099715842999-6179837123246643839?l=scottirobot.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/feeds/6179837123246643839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7856952099715842999&amp;postID=6179837123246643839' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6179837123246643839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7856952099715842999/posts/default/6179837123246643839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottirobot.blogspot.com/2007/11/first.html' title='First.'/><author><name>ScottiRobot.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818627357900855949</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhYeXVwaSog/TS6zpf2TT2I/AAAAAAAAACU/DPNxAyW-QWc/s1600-R/34272_424543777512_731162512_5062845_1276904_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
