<?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-1813228295990317583</id><updated>2011-07-07T18:17:28.501-07:00</updated><category term='proposition 8'/><category term='drama'/><category term='bami'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Human Rights'/><category term='lists'/><category term='QHHS'/><category term='lameness jk'/><category term='Free will'/><category term='Russian'/><category term='Jamie'/><category term='Lady and the tramp'/><category term='proposition 4'/><category term='school'/><category term='Langston Hughes'/><category term='A. J.Jacobs'/><category term='Jill'/><category term='PE'/><category term='north'/><category term='Gay rights'/><category term='band'/><category term='Guitar'/><category term='life'/><category term='ranting'/><category term='no power'/><category term='lolersause'/><category term='Senior Project'/><category term='Clark'/><category term='love triangle'/><category term='Laura'/><category term='Beauty and the Beast'/><category term='AP Art History'/><category term='family'/><category term='coffee'/><category term='Gone with the Wind'/><category term='heart felt insight'/><category term='Mock Trial'/><category term='Movies'/><category term='M*A*S*H'/><title type='text'>The Raven and The Writing Desk</title><subtitle type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Out of her head she sang...&lt;br&gt; 

Come down&lt;br&gt;
And waste away with me&lt;br&gt;
Down with me&lt;br&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-6062653179041526764</id><published>2009-10-16T23:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T01:56:18.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good advise from a hypocrite</title><content type='html'>Dear, &lt;br /&gt;Gwenda (World Without End)&lt;br /&gt;Bella (New Moon only)&lt;br /&gt;Dean (Gilmore Girls)&lt;br /&gt;Abigail Williams (The Crucible)&lt;br /&gt;Pip (Great Expectations)&lt;br /&gt;Homer Wells (The Cider House Rules)&lt;br /&gt;Jay (The Great Gatsby)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s time to get over it and move on; he/she doesn’t want you. Get a life. Live for yourself. Be yourself. You don’t need Wolfric, Edward, Rory, John, Estella, Candy, Daisy (repectively) you are fine and awesome on your own. You all just look pathetic pining over someone who obviously has moved on for God's sake you should do the same! You are wasting your time, my time and paper/film boring us with your sad attempts to win the heart of someone who couldn't care less about your sorry ass so do us all a favor and get the fuck over it. Kthanx love Emily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/StmA1JTURtI/AAAAAAAAAfU/fPTfbV80WFc/s1600-h/mosaic43a338963bf8e2f7b4590aa513676a272807baa6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 108px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/StmA1JTURtI/AAAAAAAAAfU/fPTfbV80WFc/s320/mosaic43a338963bf8e2f7b4590aa513676a272807baa6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393483679271241426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-6062653179041526764?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/6062653179041526764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=6062653179041526764' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/6062653179041526764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/6062653179041526764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2009/10/good-advise-from-hypocrite.html' title='Good advise from a hypocrite'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/StmA1JTURtI/AAAAAAAAAfU/fPTfbV80WFc/s72-c/mosaic43a338963bf8e2f7b4590aa513676a272807baa6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-8109015087583860006</id><published>2009-09-27T00:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T01:00:40.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lists</title><content type='html'>Things that make me irrationally happy:&lt;br /&gt;Dumb people using $10 words incorrectly &lt;br /&gt;Fat kids eating fast food&lt;br /&gt;People in electric wheelchairs on the street&lt;br /&gt;Electric wheelchairs with flags &lt;br /&gt;Asians that can’t drive&lt;br /&gt;Black people eating chicken &lt;br /&gt;Really skinny bros in XL t-shirts&lt;br /&gt;Really fat white moms in Wal-mart with 5+ kids&lt;br /&gt;Hispanics selling oranges/flowers/blankets on the side of the road&lt;br /&gt;Dean’s ever-changing facial hair&lt;br /&gt;Dean “working” on his car &lt;br /&gt;Sarah reading Stephen King books&lt;br /&gt;Dorky look teens that sit in the anime section of Barnes &amp; Noble and read&lt;br /&gt;People who walk around at school playing guitar poorly&lt;br /&gt;Mormons on bikes &lt;br /&gt;Sending and receiving snail mail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things that make me irrationally angry:&lt;br /&gt;People turning left out of a parking lot without a signal&lt;br /&gt;People not utilizing turn lanes and instead slow way down in front of you and just making a wide turn&lt;br /&gt;People who randomly slow down on the freeway &lt;br /&gt;Dog-eared pages in library books&lt;br /&gt;When I don’t get a “Special” sticker on my order at Taco Bell&lt;br /&gt;The fact that Denny’s has Coke and not Pepsi&lt;br /&gt;When people tend to cry a lot&lt;br /&gt;When people mix up your/you’re, there/their/they’re, and to/too/two, are/our &lt;br /&gt;When people use any of the following: u, ur urself, b4, 2nite, 2day, l8r, luv ya, c u, wat, watever, y, i, im, so0o, gurl  &lt;br /&gt;When “pretty” girls take “ugly” pictures (that aren’t really ugly, just silly) then put them online and say “OMG look at these ugly pictures of me! OMG I’m like so0o ugly.”  &lt;br /&gt;People that fish for compliments ^^&lt;br /&gt;When people don’t remember I don’t like Ketchup&lt;br /&gt;The fact that the avc library is only open until 6:30p during the week and only open for 4 hours on Saturday. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things that I know will never change/know to always be true:&lt;br /&gt;Jamie will never give up trying to read Les Mis.&lt;br /&gt;Jamie and I will always make pies for thanksgiving.  &lt;br /&gt;There will always be someone Laura and I dislike so much we can spend hours talking about it.&lt;br /&gt;Lauren, Jenni and Hank will never stop playing video games.&lt;br /&gt;There will always be tortillas, Tapatío, and Shasta cola at Charlie’s/Brandis house. &lt;br /&gt;I will always love West Side Story more then Rent and Jamie will always disagree with me.&lt;br /&gt;Hank will always be the most badass white guy I know.  &lt;br /&gt;I will never memorize any ID number I ever have i.e. school ID, DL, license plate #&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-8109015087583860006?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/8109015087583860006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=8109015087583860006' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8109015087583860006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8109015087583860006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2009/09/lists.html' title='Lists'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-1658316445045991431</id><published>2009-09-27T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T00:58:58.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'>99 things to do before I die:</title><content type='html'>1. Act in a play&lt;br /&gt;2. Adopt a pet from the pound &lt;br /&gt;3. Be a girl scout troop leader &lt;br /&gt;4. Be a stage manger &lt;br /&gt;5. Be able to say “I love you” in at least 15 different languages&lt;br /&gt;6. Bungee jump&lt;br /&gt;7. Buy a house&lt;br /&gt;8. Camp somewhere and sleep under the stars&lt;br /&gt;9. Change someone’s life (in a good way)&lt;br /&gt;10. Chase pigeons in the Vatican City.  &lt;br /&gt;11. Compete in a speech contest &lt;br /&gt;12. Convince a group of tourists that I’m a tour guide in a foreign country&lt;br /&gt;13. Convince someone that I’m British&lt;br /&gt;14. Cross a country using only public transportation &lt;br /&gt;15. Dance salsa and tango in lots of foreign countries&lt;br /&gt;16. Do yoga by myself in a park really early in the morning&lt;br /&gt;17. Drive across America from coast to coast&lt;br /&gt;18. Drive cross country on as much of route 66 as I can &lt;br /&gt;19. Drive the Autobahn&lt;br /&gt;20. Eat escargot      &lt;br /&gt;21. Fall in love get married have lots of children&lt;br /&gt;22. Find a four leaf clover &lt;br /&gt;23. Get a big group together and making matching tie-dye shirts and go to the zoo like you did when you were in elementary school&lt;br /&gt;24. Get a pair shoe, and dress and umbrella like the Morton’s salt girl and go out in the rain like that.&lt;br /&gt;25. Get in trouble with the law in another country&lt;br /&gt;26. Give blood&lt;br /&gt;27. Give someone homeless my lunch&lt;br /&gt;28. Go a bedding store in my PJs&lt;br /&gt;29. Go on a African safari&lt;br /&gt;30. Go on a oversees trip by myself &lt;br /&gt;31. Go skinny-dipping at midnight at some beach&lt;br /&gt;32. Go to school in France&lt;br /&gt;33. Go to Times Square on New Year’s&lt;br /&gt;34. Go white water rafting&lt;br /&gt;35. Graduate college lol&lt;br /&gt;36. Have a “back in my day” conversation with my grandchildren &lt;br /&gt;37. Have a beer in Ireland&lt;br /&gt;38. Have a pen pal form another country &lt;br /&gt;39. Have a tree house in my backyard&lt;br /&gt;40. Have Sex on a kitchen table&lt;br /&gt;41. Have Sex outside somewhere&lt;br /&gt;42. Hitchhike not alone hahah&lt;br /&gt;43. Jog 3 miles &lt;br /&gt;44. Jump off a bridge with a friend&lt;br /&gt;45. Keep a diary constantly for a whole year&lt;br /&gt;46. Kiss the Barmy Stone &lt;br /&gt;47. Learn now to count to 100 in Russian&lt;br /&gt;48. Learn to juggle with three balls&lt;br /&gt;49. Live in a big city other then LA&lt;br /&gt;50. Make a Buckingham Palace guard laugh&lt;br /&gt;51. Make a kite and fly it&lt;br /&gt;52. Make a wish in a shooting star then take proactive measures to make sure it comes true    &lt;br /&gt;53. Make out in a library  &lt;br /&gt;54. Make out in an elevator &lt;br /&gt;55. Make out with someone in the rain&lt;br /&gt;56. Make quilts for all of my close friends kids (when they start having kids that it)&lt;br /&gt;57. Pierce someone’s ears&lt;br /&gt;58. Play a elaborate practical joke&lt;br /&gt;59. Play in mud that’s at least knee deep&lt;br /&gt;60. Punch someone full in the face&lt;br /&gt;61. Read Les Mis in French&lt;br /&gt;62. Rent a apartment with Lauren, Jamie and Jasmine not all the same time &lt;br /&gt;63. Ride a camel into the desert. &lt;br /&gt;64. Ride in a gondola&lt;br /&gt;65. Ride on a motorcycle&lt;br /&gt;66. Run with the bulls&lt;br /&gt;67. Runaway &lt;br /&gt;68. See a Broadway play&lt;br /&gt;69. See a lunar eclipse&lt;br /&gt;70. See every James Bond film ever made&lt;br /&gt;71. See every movie ever made with Gene Kelly &lt;br /&gt;72. See Phantom of the Opera in stage &lt;br /&gt;73. See the Western Wall in Israel&lt;br /&gt;74. See/meet the Dalai Lama&lt;br /&gt;75. Sell a piece of my artwork&lt;br /&gt;76. Send a message in a bottle. &lt;br /&gt;77. Shoot a rifle &lt;br /&gt;78. Sit on a jury&lt;br /&gt;79. Skydive&lt;br /&gt;80. Spend a day at Disney World&lt;br /&gt;81. Spend the night somewhere Haunted &lt;br /&gt;82. Stay out all night dancing and go to work the next day without having gone home&lt;br /&gt;83. Swim 1400yrs in 12 minutes or less&lt;br /&gt;84. Swim with dolphins&lt;br /&gt;85. Take a drive and drive all night long stop when the sun comes up and go eat breakfast&lt;br /&gt;86. Teach someone illiterate to read &lt;br /&gt;87. Travel to: France, England, Scotland, Ireland, Greece, Austria, Hungry, Czech Rep, Romania, Ukraine, Germany, Belgium, Switzerland, Spain, Italy, Turkey, Thailand, China, Russia, India, Egypt, Colombia, Bolivia, Chile, The Bahamas, Syria, Lebanon, Israel, Poland.&lt;br /&gt;88. Walk down Abby road&lt;br /&gt;89. Walk on the great wall of China   &lt;br /&gt;90. Waltz in the middle of the street in the middle of the night  &lt;br /&gt;91. Win something at an auction &lt;br /&gt;92. Work at a bar&lt;br /&gt;93. Work in a soup kitchen&lt;br /&gt;94. Work in an orphanage oversees &lt;br /&gt;95. Write a fan letter &lt;br /&gt;96. Write a letter to Juliet in Verona Italy&lt;br /&gt;97. Write a snail mail letter every week for a year&lt;br /&gt;98. Yell at a train as it goes by&lt;br /&gt;99. Yell over the Brooklyn bridge (see Newsies)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-1658316445045991431?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/1658316445045991431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=1658316445045991431' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/1658316445045991431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/1658316445045991431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2009/09/99-things-to-do-before-i-die-1.html' title='99 things to do before I die:'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-2795251805033586253</id><published>2009-03-29T17:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T17:27:39.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I had an epiphany the other day:</title><content type='html'>To me boys are like Marzipan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I see some I think, aw how cute I want some! Then when I finally break down and get a piece I remember how much I hate Marzipan. It may look cute on the outside but really it’s just gross. I mean really they come in so many cute shapes and colors but no they all taste the same: icky. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1f/Marzipan_critters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 1024px; height: 768px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1f/Marzipan_critters.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just say no!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-2795251805033586253?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/2795251805033586253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=2795251805033586253' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/2795251805033586253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/2795251805033586253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-had-epiphany-other-day.html' title='I had an epiphany the other day:'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-3297725950669584729</id><published>2008-11-18T22:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T22:05:18.478-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Epic Bruise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SSOshh245_I/AAAAAAAAAbs/ZivU3M3BBmw/s1600-h/Photo+311.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SSOshh245_I/AAAAAAAAAbs/ZivU3M3BBmw/s320/Photo+311.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270245680977864690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In dance we roll around on the ground a lot. And apparently I bruise easily.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-3297725950669584729?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/3297725950669584729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=3297725950669584729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/3297725950669584729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/3297725950669584729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/11/epic-bruise.html' title='Epic Bruise'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SSOshh245_I/AAAAAAAAAbs/ZivU3M3BBmw/s72-c/Photo+311.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-593077873140136487</id><published>2008-11-13T22:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T23:14:11.087-08:00</updated><title type='text'>November Artist of the Month: René François-Ghislain Magritte</title><content type='html'>René François-Ghislain Magritte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Birth; Death: 1898-1967&lt;br /&gt;Born in: Lessines, Belgium&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Art movement: Surrealism! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surrealism is a movement that started around 1924. It sort of formed out of dada, most of the artist that were a part of the dada movement joined the surrealists around then.   The Dadaists used more of an improvisational technique, but as surrealist their focus changed to inner world of the psyche, the realm of fantasy and unconscious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two types of surrealism. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Biomorphic (Joan Miró) largely abstract whatever I don’t like too much so I’m not going to talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;2.   Naturalistic (Dali, Magritte, Chirico) Imagery is recognizable but changed into senses that had dream/nightmare-ish quality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magritte developed his own unique style of surrealism. He did not simply take an object and distort it like Dali who would take a clock and make it look like it was melting.  Instead Magritte depicted realistic images but it was the manner in which he arranged them that made the surreal. Magritte’s work challenged logic and contradicted accepted truths. His work made you want to know “why?!” and “how?” But you can stair until you are cross eyed and read into it as much as you like in the end you just have to except that you are not meant to understand. The only point is to go against logic and depict that which is only real in your dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZsOhvldI/AAAAAAAAAY0/6eaIHquqJbY/s1600-h/magritte-notrepro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:left;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZsOhvldI/AAAAAAAAAY0/6eaIHquqJbY/s320/magritte-notrepro.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268395386697913810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZsKZjZBI/AAAAAAAAAYs/3JDfWCaSmmo/s1600-h/magritte.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:right;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZsKZjZBI/AAAAAAAAAYs/3JDfWCaSmmo/s320/magritte.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268395385589818386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZroS9RwI/AAAAAAAAAYk/zAJAgCi4m_Y/s1600-h/magritte2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 255px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZroS9RwI/AAAAAAAAAYk/zAJAgCi4m_Y/s320/magritte2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268395376435349250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZrjdlolI/AAAAAAAAAYc/hFzcV5HJ4_8/s1600-h/pipe.jpeg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZrjdlolI/AAAAAAAAAYc/hFzcV5HJ4_8/s320/pipe.jpeg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268395375137759826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZrMTP0oI/AAAAAAAAAYU/ch8jhhEvFkA/s1600-h/rene-magritte-os+amantes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZrMTP0oI/AAAAAAAAAYU/ch8jhhEvFkA/s320/rene-magritte-os+amantes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268395368920371842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-593077873140136487?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/593077873140136487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=593077873140136487' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/593077873140136487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/593077873140136487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/11/november-artist-of-month-ren-franois.html' title='November Artist of the Month: René François-Ghislain Magritte'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SR0ZsOhvldI/AAAAAAAAAY0/6eaIHquqJbY/s72-c/magritte-notrepro.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-6111888779141307852</id><published>2008-11-11T22:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T22:53:15.602-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nice shirt, but it would look even better accelerating at 9.8m/s^2 toward my bedroom floor!</title><content type='html'>I'm pathetic and here are three reasons why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I only really have two close friends in the AV; Tierney and Nic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My two closes friends also happen to be dating each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. And now Nic’s mother is trying to set me up with someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t mind being the eternal third wheel. I love them both, and I’d rather be single anyways. So I think it’s hilarious that someone else’s mom is trying to get me unsingle.Plus the only good things she said about him is that he’s “nice” and “clean-cut” so I’m pretty sure I’ll pass on this one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3-ACqcNqU2w&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3-ACqcNqU2w&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-6111888779141307852?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/6111888779141307852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=6111888779141307852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/6111888779141307852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/6111888779141307852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/11/nice-shirt-but-it-would-look-even.html' title='Nice shirt, but it would look even better accelerating at 9.8m/s^2 toward my bedroom floor!'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-8702957566173496428</id><published>2008-11-10T20:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T20:22:05.993-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here in these deep city lights, girl could get lost tonight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SRkIHIpcpAI/AAAAAAAAAWo/L9anUHrZQOM/s1600-h/Photo+308.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SRkIHIpcpAI/AAAAAAAAAWo/L9anUHrZQOM/s320/Photo+308.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267250157859939330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YEAH I MADE THOSE! BE JEALOUS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-8702957566173496428?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/8702957566173496428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=8702957566173496428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8702957566173496428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8702957566173496428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/11/here-in-these-deep-city-lights-girl.html' title='Here in these deep city lights, girl could get lost tonight'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SRkIHIpcpAI/AAAAAAAAAWo/L9anUHrZQOM/s72-c/Photo+308.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-8813169655962929495</id><published>2008-11-09T22:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T22:09:39.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a jelly doughnut.</title><content type='html'>I made Marshmallows today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, really. I &lt;b&gt;made&lt;/b&gt; marshmallows today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-8813169655962929495?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/8813169655962929495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=8813169655962929495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8813169655962929495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8813169655962929495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-am-jelly-doughnut.html' title='I am a jelly doughnut.'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-6370350841108693735</id><published>2008-11-04T18:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T18:16:15.720-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess what I did today!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SREB6AykDMI/AAAAAAAAAWg/5pQsNk9RDiQ/s1600-h/ivotedsticker.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 176px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SREB6AykDMI/AAAAAAAAAWg/5pQsNk9RDiQ/s320/ivotedsticker.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264991535528938690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man it must suck to not be 18 yet...&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-6370350841108693735?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/6370350841108693735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=6370350841108693735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/6370350841108693735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/6370350841108693735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/11/today-i.html' title='Guess what I did today!!!'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SREB6AykDMI/AAAAAAAAAWg/5pQsNk9RDiQ/s72-c/ivotedsticker.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-8108113701446805943</id><published>2008-10-28T23:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T09:28:26.960-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='proposition 8'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='proposition 4'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Human Rights'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clark'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gay rights'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Free will'/><title type='text'>This is for Clark. And don’t just scoff if you don’t agree I want to know why.</title><content type='html'>Pro 4.&lt;br /&gt;Yes I am for parent notification that’s an easy one.   A minor is a minor and people who are responsible for the kid have every right to know everything that’s going on in their kid’s life. The issue of parental abuse or the kid being kicked out is a completely different issue that has noting to do with this. If parents are going to beat their kid for get knocked up then the girl shouldn’t be with those parents in the first place. The argument of abusive parent is a weak agreement that shouldn’t even be brought up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pro 8  &lt;br /&gt;I am a Christian and I think that gay marriage is wrong. But does that mean that I’m going to vote yes on pro. 8? This was the question I had to ask myself. In the process I had to consider two things: free will and the role of government in society vs. people’s rights. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, I believe in free will. Free will is what makes humans humans. Free will is also what makes grace such a wonderful concept.  Therefore I don’t believe in forcing anyone to fallow the rules of my religion.  But still I do believe that marriage is between a man and a woman and God. But not one man, one women, and the Government. However the government must keep track of those who are married to enforce the laws set up for married people (marriage as the government see it is basically just two people in a state of economic exchange). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that God does not recognize a marriage between a gay couple.&lt;br /&gt;And it is NOT for the government to say whether or not ANYONE is truly married to another person in the sight of God, but it is the responsibility of the government to honor the choice of any two people who wish to be bound economically and involved legally in each other’s lives.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my mind marriage regulated by the government is not true marriage because it does not involve God in any way. Government regulated marriage is simply two people in a legally bound state of economic exchange.  And I cannot in good conscience stop anyone from having that right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-8108113701446805943?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/8108113701446805943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=8108113701446805943' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8108113701446805943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8108113701446805943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-just-that-i-think-and-what-do-i.html' title='This is for Clark. And don’t just scoff if you don’t agree I want to know why.'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-4063617126513167771</id><published>2008-08-13T23:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T23:34:33.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Francie Doesn't Like Coffee Ice Cream</title><content type='html'>I HAVE TOO MUCH TIME ON MY HANDS!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;(macbook pics have their draw backs lol)&lt;br /&gt;(for those who can read backwards don't tell casey about his "yadhtrib" present haha)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SKPOrOH-vzI/AAAAAAAAAIo/KYwv13ZiCUI/s1600-h/Photo+60.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SKPOrOH-vzI/AAAAAAAAAIo/KYwv13ZiCUI/s400/Photo+60.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234254433855913778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SKPOrTyBgkI/AAAAAAAAAIw/BU6yZYJBvsU/s1600-h/Photo+63.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SKPOrTyBgkI/AAAAAAAAAIw/BU6yZYJBvsU/s400/Photo+63.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234254435374432834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SKPOrjF3OzI/AAAAAAAAAI4/RzUVNY1Fgvs/s1600-h/Photo+66.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SKPOrjF3OzI/AAAAAAAAAI4/RzUVNY1Fgvs/s400/Photo+66.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234254439484177202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SKPOYQXRGpI/AAAAAAAAAIg/Yx_sLe3czao/s1600-h/Photo+58.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SKPOYQXRGpI/AAAAAAAAAIg/Yx_sLe3czao/s400/Photo+58.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234254108039387794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-4063617126513167771?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/4063617126513167771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=4063617126513167771' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/4063617126513167771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/4063617126513167771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/08/francie-doesnt-like-coffee-ice-cream.html' title='Francie Doesn&apos;t Like Coffee Ice Cream'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SKPOrOH-vzI/AAAAAAAAAIo/KYwv13ZiCUI/s72-c/Photo+60.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-2073755090631853486</id><published>2008-08-04T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T11:10:21.224-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not all dumb people belong in german showers</title><content type='html'>Okay to the person who registered with Priority Registration at avc and signed up for Chem 110 then didn’t pay their enrollment fees on time:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, with all my heart and soul I LOVE YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because you’re kinda dumb and didn’t pay for your classes on time, you were dropped. So now I get the schedule I wanted in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it sucks to be you, but just remember I’ll always love you and think of you from time to time as I sit in your seat in Chemistry while you’re stuck in A History of Women in America or whatever else is still left open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so: life is great!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was on the AVC website and holy cow there was 2 opening in the Chem class i wanted so last night. I got up bright and early (it's been quite sometime since I knew 7 o'clock happen twice on a Monday) to get to AVC and see about getting my classes changed. And I'll be darned if I didn't get the classes that I wanted in the first place!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is the last time (hopefully) you'll see me post about my AVC classes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BioL 110      units 5;      T 7-11pm; R 7-10pm&lt;br /&gt;Chem 110      units 5;      TR 8-9:20am F7:45-11:50am&lt;br /&gt;Math 130      units 4;      TR 11:00-1:05pm&lt;br /&gt;Art  216      units 3;      W 5-11pm&lt;br /&gt;PE(swimming)  units 1;      style MW 8-9:20am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 classes/18 units -$360, 1 parking pass -$15, beating those other dumbies to the classes I want- priceless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2IwR5dO4hBw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2IwR5dO4hBw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-2073755090631853486?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/2073755090631853486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=2073755090631853486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/2073755090631853486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/2073755090631853486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/08/not-all-dumb-people-belong-in-german.html' title='Not all dumb people belong in german showers'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-4998067284236481077</id><published>2008-07-03T12:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T12:34:43.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chap Stick and Chapped Lips and Things Like Chemistry</title><content type='html'>Since my last post so much has happened I can't even tell you! haha well I'm about to try, but in any case I’ve been hella busy and so I'm sorry for not updating more often.  I think I’m going to start from right now and work my way backwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So right now I'm sitting at Lisa and Chris' in Oregon drinking some of the best coffee ever! I want to move to Forest Grove so badly but then I don't at the same time. I love it here but another big part of me really wants so live in a big city while I'm young. I think some people get overwhelmed by having so many choices, but I think I'm more excited about life more then anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways I'm in Oregon now but a couple of days ago I was in Auburn, Washington with Jasmine! "How did we get there?" you may ask, well we drove up from California! Well I drove Jazz doesn’t have a license yet. So in the past week I’ve driven about 1400 miles!!! Crazy, right?! Anyways, I was in Washington with Jazz, I stayed for just a night. We went to see Wall-e with her boyfriend and their friend Ryan. Ryan builds motorcycles I was kinda turned on I’m not going to lie to you. But yeah they are both very talented they own a small recording studio, awesome right?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[btw, Wall-e. So it’s basically the cutest thing ever!!! I want to see it again like holy cow. Everyone should go see it. It's was a lot different from what I thought the movie was going to be most as far as plot line goes. I don’t want to say too much and give anything away, but you should all go see it srsly.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I just stayed the night in Washington, I stayed with Jazz and her boyfriend; they live together. But before all of that Jazz and I had to drive up, it took us three days the first day we meant to leave at like 8... yeah, no. We were ready by 8 but all the forces of the universe got together to&lt;br /&gt;screw that up. Anyways we left around 11. But we got to Lodi as we had planed to do. The next day we were going to just get to Redding but I wasn’t tired and it was only like 6:30 when we got to Redding so we made it to Weed which is kind of a bombass town. Then the next day we got to Lisa and Chris’ spend the night there then the next day went up to Washington.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, my mom flew Jazz down here from Washington so that she could drive up with me, also so that she could go though some of her stuff that was in Grandma garage, well her Grandma’s but I call her Grandma too (and my mom calls her Mom haha) Anyways while Jazz was here we went though her stuff, it was hot and icky but what can you do? We also rented movies. I know we rented three but I can only think of 2 Into the Wild and Run Lola Run. Into the Wild was terrible it was the biggest downer ever, but Run Lola Run was GREAT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umm before Jazz got here... what was I doing? Oh, right AVC. I basically I took the placement tests and everything. I did well in the math part, apparently. Whatever, but the classes that I’m hoping to have for next year are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;English 101; 3 units&lt;br /&gt;Math 130; 4 units&lt;br /&gt;Chemistry 110; 5 units&lt;br /&gt;Painting and drawing technique 210; 1.5 units&lt;br /&gt;Life Drawing 140; 1 unit&lt;br /&gt;Beginning Ballet 101; 1 unit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 classes; 15.5 units&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven’t done a lot since graduation. Just normal summer stuff I guess, cleaning, reading lazying around you know the deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Laura and I went to Magic Mountain! It was so much fun! Two best things: the sign after you get off Roaring Rapids “You’ve never looked wetter!” and Laura, “first there was X the ride in that awful Orange and blue now there X2 in red and white, watch next it’ll be xxx, straightedge the ride, in all black.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;umm yeah that’s about all for now I’ll try and update more often but I make no promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh and I have mad etch a sketch skeelz I'm serious. &lt;br /&gt;Look it's robin hood!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SG0l2LTphXI/AAAAAAAAAFw/dHyLxyFzbek/s1600-h/Photo+25.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SG0l2LTphXI/AAAAAAAAAFw/dHyLxyFzbek/s400/Photo+25.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218869155870639474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-4998067284236481077?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/4998067284236481077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=4998067284236481077' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/4998067284236481077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/4998067284236481077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/07/chap-stick-and-chapped-lips-and-things.html' title='Chap Stick and Chapped Lips and Things Like Chemistry'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/SG0l2LTphXI/AAAAAAAAAFw/dHyLxyFzbek/s72-c/Photo+25.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-3291410380866072074</id><published>2008-02-03T18:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T19:26:31.512-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want To Hold Your Hand</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aXQSgkQCI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/10ZjCP4Y034/s1600-h/PICT0280.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aXQSgkQCI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/10ZjCP4Y034/s400/PICT0280.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162980328928985122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disnland picture tour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura, &lt;span chatdir="1"&gt;Corinne,  and me crossing the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aHgigkPrI/AAAAAAAAACY/gBsdqDbmCho/s1600-h/dis01small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aHgigkPrI/AAAAAAAAACY/gBsdqDbmCho/s320/dis01small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162963015915814578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura+Corinne+Me on the tram thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aHsSgkPsI/AAAAAAAAACg/EV3MZ236NbM/s1600-h/dis02small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aHsSgkPsI/AAAAAAAAACg/EV3MZ236NbM/s320/dis02small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162963217779277506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aH5SgkPtI/AAAAAAAAACo/m013fPz73yM/s1600-h/dis04small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aH5SgkPtI/AAAAAAAAACo/m013fPz73yM/s320/dis04small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162963441117576914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we're walking down Main Street. This is Laura's "I must be in this picutre face."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aIGygkPuI/AAAAAAAAACw/teZK6MBJPJI/s1600-h/dis05small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aIGygkPuI/AAAAAAAAACw/teZK6MBJPJI/s320/dis05small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162963673045810914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're in line for Space Mountain (round 2)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aITCgkPvI/AAAAAAAAAC4/3ixoMuCO9JQ/s1600-h/dis06small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aITCgkPvI/AAAAAAAAAC4/3ixoMuCO9JQ/s320/dis06small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162963883499208434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aIeCgkPwI/AAAAAAAAADA/9JB1bP4ggxk/s1600-h/dis07small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aIeCgkPwI/AAAAAAAAADA/9JB1bP4ggxk/s320/dis07small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162964072477769474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Space Moutain, otherwise selfexplanatory &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aJKygkPxI/AAAAAAAAADI/JYPc9chEO7U/s1600-h/dis08small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aJKygkPxI/AAAAAAAAADI/JYPc9chEO7U/s320/dis08small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162964841276915474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura, Lauren, and Corinne before the Buzzlightyearride I have know I idea what it's really called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aJuSgkPyI/AAAAAAAAADQ/uGENQtL_FIk/s1600-h/dis09small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aJuSgkPyI/AAAAAAAAADQ/uGENQtL_FIk/s320/dis09small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162965451162271522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dream job! Lolza jk. If only I were pretty enough... haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aK2igkPzI/AAAAAAAAADY/fjn_Hupbyos/s1600-h/dis10small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aK2igkPzI/AAAAAAAAADY/fjn_Hupbyos/s320/dis10small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162966692407820082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Becca: Jeez you two don't cream your pants.&lt;br /&gt;Laura+Me: Too late!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aLNCgkP0I/AAAAAAAAADg/X7WxzTAHt9Y/s1600-h/dis11omgsamll.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aLNCgkP0I/AAAAAAAAADg/X7WxzTAHt9Y/s320/dis11omgsamll.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162967078954876738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In line for Indiana Jones.&lt;br /&gt;(Lauren, Becca, and Jamie)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aMTygkP1I/AAAAAAAAADo/WtJxOUdX3TA/s1600-h/dis12small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aMTygkP1I/AAAAAAAAADo/WtJxOUdX3TA/s320/dis12small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162968294430621522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(me, Laura, Corenne)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aMxigkP2I/AAAAAAAAADw/oiP27KQMwDg/s1600-h/dis13small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aMxigkP2I/AAAAAAAAADw/oiP27KQMwDg/s320/dis13small.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162968805531729762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lauren and Jamie and Jack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aN7igkP3I/AAAAAAAAAD4/Ef9O894ELp0/s1600-h/dis14small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aN7igkP3I/AAAAAAAAAD4/Ef9O894ELp0/s320/dis14small.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162970076842049394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Becca being Becca &lt;3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aONCgkP4I/AAAAAAAAAEA/L_E_DrVnRHI/s1600-h/dis15small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aONCgkP4I/AAAAAAAAAEA/L_E_DrVnRHI/s320/dis15small.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162970377489760130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had some extra time to kill so we took lots of random pitures:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura and me failing to look like crazy drivers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aOjCgkP5I/AAAAAAAAAEI/XXM77XIztuA/s1600-h/dis18small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aOjCgkP5I/AAAAAAAAAEI/XXM77XIztuA/s320/dis18small.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162970755446882194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe we ALL fit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aPESgkP6I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/XsP0xoWwY8Q/s1600-h/dis19small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aPESgkP6I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/XsP0xoWwY8Q/s320/dis19small.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162971326677532578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura and Lauren. Nice faces guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aP-igkP7I/AAAAAAAAAEY/UCV6r4SLRUM/s1600-h/dis20small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aP-igkP7I/AAAAAAAAAEY/UCV6r4SLRUM/s320/dis20small.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162972327404912562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My little jail birds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aQtigkP8I/AAAAAAAAAEg/rtCzcEhkB1w/s1600-h/PICT0285.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aQtigkP8I/AAAAAAAAAEg/rtCzcEhkB1w/s320/PICT0285.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162973134858764226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minnie's House! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aRmCgkP9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/IAL5-X7wwW0/s1600-h/dis22small.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aRmCgkP9I/AAAAAAAAAEo/IAL5-X7wwW0/s320/dis22small.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162974105521373138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aSYygkP-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/njLaH9xxYig/s1600-h/PICT0288.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aSYygkP-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/njLaH9xxYig/s320/PICT0288.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162974977399734242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aS6SgkP_I/AAAAAAAAAE4/b0vpjxHRqKM/s1600-h/PICT0289.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aS6SgkP_I/AAAAAAAAAE4/b0vpjxHRqKM/s320/PICT0289.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162975552925351922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aTiSgkQAI/AAAAAAAAAFA/aXoqAqztDJU/s1600-h/PICT0290.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aTiSgkQAI/AAAAAAAAAFA/aXoqAqztDJU/s320/PICT0290.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162976240120119298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly Laura and Corinne and Me made wishes in'da wishing well! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aaDigkQEI/AAAAAAAAAFg/zXKkvJ0hGSE/s1600-h/PICT0293.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aaDigkQEI/AAAAAAAAAFg/zXKkvJ0hGSE/s320/PICT0293.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162983408420536386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home Laura and I cuddled it was great I've NEVER been more comfy/comfortable on a bus before. At one point I wanted to be all emosause so I curled up in a ball and laid my head down on laura's lap and was under my blanky, it was so comfy! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all the was an AWESOME trip!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aa5SgkQFI/AAAAAAAAAFo/wSiJQZRFeQg/s1600-h/PICT0278.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aa5SgkQFI/AAAAAAAAAFo/wSiJQZRFeQg/s400/PICT0278.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162984331838505042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-3291410380866072074?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/3291410380866072074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=3291410380866072074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/3291410380866072074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/3291410380866072074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-want-to-hold-your-hand.html' title='I Want To Hold Your Hand'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R6aXQSgkQCI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/10ZjCP4Y034/s72-c/PICT0280.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-2142429971939716138</id><published>2008-01-19T12:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T20:51:11.037-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AP Art History'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guitar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Beauty and the Beast'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jill'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lady and the tramp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A. J.Jacobs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coffee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='M*A*S*H'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Russian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senior Project'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mock Trial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bami'/><title type='text'>Twitterpated? Who me? Never!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;This Week was like death. I was so tired every day and had so much crap to do it was ridiculous. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;I’ve been going back and forth about whether or not I should have done Mock Trial it’s fun and all but it’s Mondays and Wednesdays from 5-8 (8 being the earliest) this week I was there both days until about 8:45. But like a said before I really do enjoy it. Mostly because the group is made up of some the smartest kids in school and I’m not talking about the ones in honors classes because there are plenty of the dull, dense, and just plain stupid people in AP and IB classes. But no these are the clever, witty, and intellectual ones who know how to have a conversation.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I must say it’s a nice change from being around band kids all the time.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5Jp0v7UUeI/AAAAAAAAABI/DkIC-NJpLR0/s1600-h/250px-St_Basils_Cathedral-500px.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5Jp0v7UUeI/AAAAAAAAABI/DkIC-NJpLR0/s200/250px-St_Basils_Cathedral-500px.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157300878232015330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then I had my Russian presentation this week. Degroff asked us if we wanted to go at the end of the presentations (some in February) because I came into the class late but on the day that we would have had to go Amber was going to be out of town. Then I look up all the stuff I need to know on post-revolution art (my part of the presentation) on Tuesday then I get to school on Wednesday (the say before our presentation) and the third person in our group said that he didn’t want to do Folk art and needed a different part to do. So somehow he ended up doing post-revolution art and propaganda, Amber was doing all art before that and I got Architecture. All of which I had to start and finish on Wednesday night. So now I had to learn all about Russian Architecture and get my “visual proof” done for my senior project done because I had an appointment Friday (0 Period). Said visual proof involved me working a video camera so you can only guess how long that took me to figure out. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5Jqif7UUfI/AAAAAAAAABQ/hXhhMkgC91k/s1600-h/000000937.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5Jqif7UUfI/AAAAAAAAABQ/hXhhMkgC91k/s200/000000937.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157301664211030514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I hate Senior Project. On Thursday I had so much freakin paperwork I wanted to kick babies (not really). But I am happy because I have like 13hours logged and I only needed five on Friday. Thursday I also had Guitar with Jill. This was the highlight of my week. And haha I filmed the lesson!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That was fun. AND I go the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Valley&lt;/st1:placetype&gt; &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Bible&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Church&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; song book which is really just a bunch of pages binder clipped together but still! This book contains all the taps for all the songs we sing at church; some 210 songs!!! When she brought is out and presented to me I went Oh my*deep inhale, hands on sides of face* goodness! Is this? Oh I- wow. Then Jill laughed at me. But seriously I feel like I’m now part of some secret club of Valley Bible guitar players who get to carry around the big two inch binders with all the songs in it. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;But anyways back to this week then I go home and finish all me stupid paperwork and finish organizing my portfolio and Government Hw and my art history cards. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5JsRP7UUgI/AAAAAAAAABY/Z4kWI9vu3jg/s1600-h/kiss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5JsRP7UUgI/AAAAAAAAABY/Z4kWI9vu3jg/s200/kiss.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157303566881542658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And Friday, oh Friday. First I had to wake up an hour early after going to bed late, then I have Senior Seminar which wasn’t bad but still &lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;early&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;! [Side note: everyone should drink coffee in the morning so that they are less bitchy either that or take some other from or uppers]. I hung out in Laura’s Psychology class it was so some much fun they were talking about what boys and girls are look for in a “mate.” After watching some Disney movie clips including &lt;i style=""&gt;Bambi,&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i style=""&gt;Beauty and the Beast and Lady and the tramp&lt;/i&gt; to&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;give the class some advise on "how to" and "how not to" act on a date the class was split in to groups by gender. We talked about our ideal date then each group shared. It was great because at one point while one of the guy groups was presenting Laura and I looked at each other and make gagging faces. Laura and I are quite possibly the two least romantic people in the world. I mean really what’s wrong with hanging out at home watching M*A*S*H reruns? Moonlit walks on the beach?! Seriously who does that?!? Jeez, gag me with a spoon.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5Ju-_7UUiI/AAAAAAAAABo/2AQsg4Ada2E/s1600-h/C_0743569970.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5Ju-_7UUiI/AAAAAAAAABo/2AQsg4Ada2E/s200/C_0743569970.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157306551883813410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When the bell rang after forth I was like “Thank-you merciful Jesus Christ! You are good and kind!” After I took Laura home I when to B&amp;amp;N to get my outside reading book for Bible as lit I going to read &lt;i style=""&gt;The Year of Living Biblically&lt;span id="SUBT"&gt;: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt; by A. J. Jacobs&lt;i style=""&gt; &lt;/i&gt;it’s really funny so far and I know I’m going to love it.&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;I think I’ve come to terms with doing dishes. I have a new plan of attack: 1. Use dish 2. Immediately wash dish by hand and dry dish 4. The put it away. Although I’ve been doing dishes like that for about a month once I started school I started getting behind so now it’s “do wish whenever I get the chance”. But like I’ve said I don’t really have a problem with doing all the dishes in the house or most of the house work anymore mostly because bitching and moaning about something isn’t going to change it. Now it’s just become more like brushing my teeth or driving; it’s just something that needs to be done. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;So that was my week. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5Js6v7UUhI/AAAAAAAAABg/qSfSwOaJEQ8/s1600-h/wallbambi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5Js6v7UUhI/AAAAAAAAABg/qSfSwOaJEQ8/s200/wallbambi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157304279846113810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-2142429971939716138?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/2142429971939716138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=2142429971939716138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/2142429971939716138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/2142429971939716138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/01/twitterpated-who-me-never.html' title='Twitterpated? Who me? Never!'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_4JNzgFYhdUg/R5Jp0v7UUeI/AAAAAAAAABI/DkIC-NJpLR0/s72-c/250px-St_Basils_Cathedral-500px.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-1538019476008109413</id><published>2008-01-15T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T15:15:09.679-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PE'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='QHHS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lists'/><title type='text'>whatcha talkin 'bout willis?</title><content type='html'>For all QHHS band kids: You know that career test that we don't take because of dumb after school PE? Well I found the test and it's oddles of fun. Here's my results! I like most of it but there are some that I'm like "...HA"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="ver11"&gt;1. Director of Photography   &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;2. Artist&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;3. Locksmith&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;4. Furniture Finisher&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;5. Costume Designer&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;6. Makeup Artist&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;7. Magician&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;8. Singer&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;9. Photographer&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;10. Set Designer&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;11. Fashion Designer&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;12. Special Effects Technician&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;13. Film Editor &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;14. Pet Groomer &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;15. Stuntperson&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;16. Esthetician&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;17. Taxidermist&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;18. Hairstylist&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;19. Dancer&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;20. Massage Therapist&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;21. Recording Engineer &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;22. Zoologist&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;23. Ecologist &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;24. &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Pest&lt;/st1:place&gt; Controller&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;25. Tailor / Dressmaker&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;26. Glazier&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;27. Musician&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;28. Potter&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;29. Craftsperson&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;30. Plumber&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;31. Tilesetter&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;32. Industrial Machinery Mechanic&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;33. Carpenter&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;34. Nail Technician&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;35. Plasterer&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;36. Conservation Officer&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;37. Camera Operator&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;38. Elevator Installer and Repairer&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;39. Millwright&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="ver13"&gt;40. Small Engine Mechanic&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-1538019476008109413?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/1538019476008109413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=1538019476008109413' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/1538019476008109413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/1538019476008109413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2008/01/what-makes-you-differant-makes-you.html' title='whatcha talkin &apos;bout willis?'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-7030674931915108107</id><published>2007-12-23T21:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T15:22:21.110-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='north'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Beam me up Scotty!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So it’s almost Christmas. &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I still &lt;s&gt;kind of&lt;/s&gt; bummed that I didn’t get to go up north (OR and WA) like I was suppose to. Well I guess I wasn’t suppose to if I didn’t but anyways. I mean I know I should be more concerned with the well being of my mom and her back which sucks that she is in always so much pain, but it also sucks that I don’t get to see my extended family too.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The worst part is that I haven’t seen Chris in over a year even though I was suppose to see him three times since last Christmas. He’s one of; if not the coolest guys I’ve ever met. I would say “I wish he had a younger brother,” but I’ve met his  21 yr old brother and although at Lisa and Chris’s Wedding he called me and I quote “drop-dead gorgeous” hell would have to be very nearly freezing for that to ever occur; he’s ADHD and “slightly” retarded (whatever that means). Anyways Chris is awesome and I miss him. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’ve been trying to make the best of my &lt;s&gt;Christmas&lt;/s&gt; winter break (got be PC now ;) ). I’ve actually got a lot done. There was a lot of stuff that I meant to do but didn’t, like I never did find someone to help me put of lights. But it’s okay.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Tomorrow I’m going to go and spend the day with my day and Bryce. That will hopefully not be to painful; even if every other sentence out of my father’s mouth has to do with the fact that me not going to a UC (university of California) means I will ultimately fail at life. &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And Christmas? I will be spending it with my mother. We are going down to Sherman Oaks to visit some close family friends for Dinner. That will be nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Have a very Merry Christmas and a most jolly New Year!&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/1813228295990317583-7030674931915108107?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/7030674931915108107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=7030674931915108107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/7030674931915108107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/7030674931915108107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2007/12/beam-me-up-scotty.html' title='Beam me up Scotty!'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-5269612210489415573</id><published>2007-11-04T20:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T20:49:34.400-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gone with the Wind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love triangle'/><title type='text'>That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;So I was watching &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Gone with the Wind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; last night. Man I really love that movie, but anyways I was watching &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Gone with the Wind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; and thinking about how much I like that movie. Then I realized that it’s kind of a sad movie. Not like it has a sad ending but the whole thing is sad! Then I got to thinking ‘why on earth would I like a movie like this!? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;And I really had to think about it, because I really &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; like the movie but at the same time I know that it’s really depressing. But the answer I came up with is that the characters are flawed, they’re real and I find it much more compelling to watch a movie about someone real then someone perfect. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; For example Scarlett O'Hara is such an interesting and complex character. She’s so vain and proud yet I can’t help but appreciate her good qualities like her strength, determinedness, and her intensity. And even though the good in her doesn’t really out weight the bad I still enjoy watching the crazy Scarlett, Ashley/Rhett love triangle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ashley Wilkes kind of bugs me. Okay he picked Milly over Scarlett that’s fine. But he’s got the gull to lecture her about whom she chooses to marry? I mean come on. Well, Scarlett did kind of use Frank and tricked him out of marring the woman he loved. But still that’s beside the point, and the point is that if you break someone’s heart you don’t get to have any type of opinion pertaining to their love life. Thank-you very much. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;But Scarlett in so funny because after she basically gets her husband killed she’s all crying saying like oh crap I’m going to go to hell! And I think Rhett put it nicely when he said, “You're like the thief who isn't the least bit sorry he stole, but is terribly, terribly sorry he's going to jail.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Scarlett and Rhett have the oddest relationship but in a really awesome kinda of way. Observe:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Scarlett: [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;After agreeing to marry Rhett&lt;/span&gt;] If I said I was madly in love with you, you'd know I was lying. You always said we had a lot in common...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Rhett: You're right, my dear. I'm not in love with you any more than you are with me. Heaven help the man who ever really loves you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;And lol Ashley = dumbsauce&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Scarlett: But you love me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ashley: How could I help loving you - you who has all the passion for life that I lack? But that kind of love isn't enough to make a successful marriage for two people who are as different as we are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Scarlett: Why don't you say it you coward? You're afraid to marry me. You'd rather live with that silly old fool who can't open her mouth except to say 'yes, no' and raise a couple of brats just like her!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ashley: You mustn't say things about Melanie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Scarlett: Who are you to tell me I mustn't? You lead me on, you made me believe you wanted to marry me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ashley: Now Scarlett, be fair. I never at any time-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Scarlett: You did! It's true! You did! I'll hate you till I die! I can't think of anything bad enough to call you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Scarlett slaps him. He exits and in her fury she throws a vase. Rhett rises from behind the sofa.&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Rhett: Has the war started?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Scarlett: Sir, you...you should have made your presence known.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Rhett: In the middle of that beautiful love scene? That wouldn't be very tactful, would it? But don't worry, your secret is safe with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Scarlett: Sir, you are no gentleman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Rhett: And you, miss, are no lady...Don't think that I hold that against you. Ladies have never held any charm for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Rhett is the best in all of his imperfection. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Anyways in my humble opinion this movie is great and if you don’t like it then frankly I don’t give a damn.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-5269612210489415573?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/5269612210489415573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=5269612210489415573' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/5269612210489415573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/5269612210489415573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2007/11/thats-whats-wrong-with-you-you-should.html' title='That&apos;s what&apos;s wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-7519614972719611569</id><published>2007-11-02T22:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T23:53:18.868-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lists'/><title type='text'>I'm a fermata, hold me.</title><content type='html'>Goodness this week was sooo long! (And it's not even over yet.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halloween was on Wednesday. Jenni and I made awesome Italian plumbers! In the end we decided that we are too old to beg for candy from strangers so we passed out candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my Senior Project I kind of want to change it from learn how to play guitar to piano, because I love messing around on the pianos at school. I've been borrowing books from People. I’m actually getting faster at reading piano music and it's so much fun. I love it. But, there are problems with this plan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I wouldn't have a mentor.&lt;br /&gt;2. I don't have access to a piano all the time.&lt;br /&gt;3. I'm kinda shortbus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise I would totally switch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm picking out the costumes for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Our Town&lt;/span&gt;. I think it's going to be lots of fun, except for the fact that the play opens like two weeks I haven’t started at all and I have to basically be in two places at once (marching practice and drama).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura and I have taken on the enormous task of gigantomachy proportions of organizing the music library. It should only take until a short time after the jam and crackers at my funeral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I should get going I have a parade competition/Band review tomorrow,  meaning I’ll be up early. Nighty night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.corsinet.com/braincandy/question.html"&gt;http://www.corsinet.com/braincandy/question.html&lt;/a&gt; Here are some good questions think about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps- Parade marching = death by boredom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-7519614972719611569?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/7519614972719611569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=7519614972719611569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/7519614972719611569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/7519614972719611569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2007/11/im-fermata-hold-me.html' title='I&apos;m a fermata, hold me.'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-4133803027729258468</id><published>2007-10-28T22:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T01:16:41.676-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jamie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AP Art History'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='no power'/><title type='text'>Of mice and men and other unexplained phenomena  like female dogma</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;font-family:webdings;" &gt;Houston we have power! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:webdings;" &gt;Showering by candle light, Fun? You might think. Wrong(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:webdings;font-size:78%;"  &gt;...actually it kinda was fun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:webdings;" &gt;). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:webdings;" &gt;So there was been no power at my house from like 4 til just a little while ago. I'm not complaining it was neat. And beneficial to my AP Art History grade, because I was like "oh crap the sun is about to go down. Better do my Greek packet before it gets too dark to see!" so I got it done by like 7:30 with the help of a glass bread pan full of candles ha ha. It was actually pretty enjoyable. It was kinda - I wanna say romantic, but I don’t know if that’s the right word... intimate? ("Impractical! Yes that the word," says the realist in me) but yeah it was satisfying in a romantic-impractical-middle-ages-kind-of-way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:webdings;" &gt;Earlier today I was like "yeah I'm bored with my room's current furniture arrangement." So I moved every thing around, then the lights when out. And I was like "well, this should be fun..." *coughs* (&lt;--that's for Jamie). All in all I had a good weekend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-4133803027729258468?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/4133803027729258468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=4133803027729258468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/4133803027729258468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/4133803027729258468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2007/10/of-mice-and-men-and-other-unexplained.html' title='Of mice and men and other unexplained phenomena  like female dogma'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-252700552189081592</id><published>2007-10-16T00:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T20:52:51.316-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lameness jk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heart felt insight'/><title type='text'>Just saving some starfish</title><content type='html'>Let me tell you a story about a boy who is wiser then most will ever be:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt; There once was a man. This man was like most men. He went to work every day, he paid his taxes on time, and he even visited the gym three times a week. But he wasn't happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today, unlike most days he didn't go to work, instead he went to the beach. It was cold but bright and breezy day the way it is after a storm. The man shivered slightly as he trampled through the sand wondering what on earth he was doing, or what he was looking for. Just then the man saw in the sand some distance away a strange colored speck no make that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hundred...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two hundred...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A thousand specks, maybe more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the man got closer he saw not specks, but starfish. Hundreds and hundreds of them beached from the storm lying in the cold sun waiting to die. The man was sad; he didn't really know what to do. He just stood there thinking about all the poor starfish, dying or already dead. "What a stupid idea to miss work on a Tuesday," he thought to himself, "I feel worse now then when I woke up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as the man had made up his mind to turn from the hopeless seen and go home he saw a boy among the starfish. The boy must not have been older then eight or nine. The man approached the boy. As the man drew closer he saw that the boy was picking up the starfish one by one and throwing back in to the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man looked in disbelief at the boy then to the beach litter with the pathetic dying creatures. "What are you doing?" He asked the boy, "There has to be thousands of starfish. There is no way you could save them all; you won't even be able to save half. What's the point or this? Does it really matter?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy picked up another starfish said "it matters to this one," and threw it back into the ocean.   &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to believe in that little boy. I have to keep telling myself to keeping on caring and do my best. I really believe I will because I know that even in some minuscule, microscopic way it matters. Working hard doing my best, even if I'm not seeing results or ever do, it still matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does it matter? I mean it's not like I'm saving lives or anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why: because I need a reason to get up in the morning. I need to know that I'm doing something other then taking up oxygen.I need to know that I have a purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't understand it when people that are apathetic. If you don't care then is there really a point, it just kind of seems like they're just a waste of space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every morning when I wakeup I need to now that I have the power to make this day better then the last one, that my presents in the universe means something to someone and that I have the power to effect change and that that change matters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-252700552189081592?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/252700552189081592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=252700552189081592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/252700552189081592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/252700552189081592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2007/10/just-saving-some-starfish.html' title='Just saving some starfish'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-8035638642475806358</id><published>2007-08-01T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T17:45:12.733-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='band'/><title type='text'>Band Stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Band Camp: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6-10th of August&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8-4pm &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Band BBQ: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sat. 4th August &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the band room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;@ 4pm. Be there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring Mom and Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Band Fees&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Due on the 6th starting at 7am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;$300 (pay on time and it's $275)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-8035638642475806358?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/8035638642475806358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=8035638642475806358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8035638642475806358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8035638642475806358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2007/08/band-stuff.html' title='Band Stuff'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-3260335782628792158</id><published>2007-06-24T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T20:57:13.566-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='band'/><title type='text'>Dear Clrainets</title><content type='html'>Sectional!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When: 26th of June 2-4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where: QHHS Band room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring: Clarinet, Pencil, and something to put your music in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope to see you there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-3260335782628792158?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/3260335782628792158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=3260335782628792158' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/3260335782628792158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/3260335782628792158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2007/06/dear-clrainets.html' title='Dear Clrainets'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813228295990317583.post-8676453384656101749</id><published>2007-02-27T20:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T01:09:15.680-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Langston Hughes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lolersause'/><title type='text'>Angsty Langtsy</title><content type='html'>Dear Langston Hughes,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shut up. You were not a slave so stop talking about it as if you were there; you weren’t. Your poetry is ordinary at best. I don’t mean to offend you (though I don’t care if I do) but does all the world but you and black people bore you? All you can seem to write about is how much life sucks and the pain you are in. Get over it. I hate the fact that you and authors similar to you set the precedent for the feel of black people of the time. Even now people read your work and think that all black people feel the way you do. And they don’t all feel the same way. You make it sound as if there is no hope and that all white people still hate all black people. Your poetry and prose blame all white people for your problems. And I don’t know if you know this but that’s being racist! Because guess what? I’m white but I’m only third generation American so hassle the D.A.R. not me. Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This bugs me too; half the things you say are completely paradoxical. For example in “I, too, Sing America” you basically say that you want to be a real part of America but then in some of your prose that I read you were all like black people don’t like white people getting up all in their space. You don’t want equality you just want to continue pissing about how being black sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even minus my bias on the contents of you poetry, you’re just not a very good poet or writer. Your poetry doesn’t make me feel anything. You say that Walt Whitman was an inspiration of yours but your poetry is not similar at all to Whitman’s free verse or rhyme. Your poetry is just a bunch of words and creative use of commas that drags on and on then doesn’t resolve well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, Angsty Langtsy, I don’t like you. : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my love and anguish,&lt;br /&gt;Em&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1813228295990317583-8676453384656101749?l=sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/feeds/8676453384656101749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1813228295990317583&amp;postID=8676453384656101749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8676453384656101749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1813228295990317583/posts/default/8676453384656101749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sillysaintpeter.blogspot.com/2007/02/ranting-i-know-i-said-i-wount-oh-well.html' title='Angsty Langtsy'/><author><name>emily saint pierre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16393836891071417045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3XXU0R6eNo/TWQNz2xCIyI/AAAAAAAAAgs/o8dfEJ9WFcM/s220/Photo%2B350.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
