<?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-2418550919515816097</id><updated>2011-07-28T21:44:56.718-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silence Is A Scary Sound</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>66</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-6954392082194435105</id><published>2010-08-04T18:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T18:33:47.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Granger Danger</title><content type='html'>So the past few days have been excruciating.&lt;div&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night, my friend EE and I got all dolled up in our little black dresses and glamourous make-up to go out, but weren't able to get anything together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what do we do? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We call up J and we have a photo-shoot at the park. At ten o'clock at night. G came, snazzily dressed in a tux that he just happened to have. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While we were taking pictures (a.k.a playing on the playground equipment), a white car shows up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;EE had a minor panic attack and pulled out a can of mace that she just happened to be carrying on her person. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The drive rolls down the window. "Ben?!" ... We pause, not quite sure what to say. "BEN?!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;G: "Who's Ben?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Driver: "BEN, I'MMA F****** KILL YOU!!!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;... "Ben?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The driver then pulls his car over to the parking lot across from us and gets out of his car. EE is about to run away, three-inch heels and all. He crosses the road in between us, screaming at Ben.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When he reaches the halfway point in between us and his car, he pauses and shouts "BEN?" once more. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;G shouts back that none of us are Ben, nor do we know any Bens and have not seen anyone since we arrived at the park. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The driver pauses. "So you haven't seen two kids?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No. That's what we just said. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Driver: "I'MMA F****** KILL HIM!!!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He then drives away without another word. I'm concerned for this Ben. I'm not quite sure what he's gotten himself into, but he and his friend should hide. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, for the rest of the night, we re-named everyone we saw either Ben or Bennita. We laughed for hours. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ONLY THREE MORE DAYS until I move into my apartment and live with my two favorite girls in the Dub area. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hate the fact that every time I get ready to leave, something new happens to make me want to stay and see what the end result will be. I'm fairly sure that leaving is for the best in this case, though. The air is abuzz with possibilities :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Granger Danger by Team Starkid (A Very Potter Musical)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-6954392082194435105?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/6954392082194435105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/08/granger-danger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6954392082194435105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6954392082194435105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/08/granger-danger.html' title='Granger Danger'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-7610674429380251500</id><published>2010-07-30T14:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T14:14:49.652-07:00</updated><title type='text'>L.G. Fuad</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Mom's car exploded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Not really, the transmission is just messing up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;But this makes it insanely difficult to plan a car-sharing schedule over the weekend (since we both have to work) because she's still not speaking to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;There are eight days in between me and moving out of this house. I've been getting through them by watching A Very Potter Sequel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;This is the second time I've watched it. I adore Team Starkid. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;It's weird, though. This time last year, I didn't want to leave home. Things were actually looking up for once, and I hated to leave in the middle of everything. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Now, I can't wait to get out. I hate that things are this way, but I can't do anything to change them now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;L.G. Fuad by Motion City Soundtrack&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-7610674429380251500?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/7610674429380251500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/lg-fuad.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7610674429380251500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7610674429380251500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/lg-fuad.html' title='L.G. Fuad'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-7599180439882797414</id><published>2010-07-28T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T20:09:06.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Even If It Kills Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;I've never had so many people not talking to me before, and I'm not quite sure how to handle it. Usually I'm freaking out all the time, trying to fix things and please people and just generally make everyone smile and myself miserable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;Now, I'm just bored with it. Okay, I'm not perfect. You can deal with it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;My mom isn't speaking to me right now. At all. Despite the fact that I'm leaving in ten days for college and not coming back this time until Christmas break. Last year, I was home at least once a month, just because that's how my schedule worked out (and I was a stupid teenager with a boyfriend back at home). But now I have a job, and an apartment, and I can't be running home all the time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;I'm not sure how to handle this silence. While I don't want to leave things tense between the two of us, I REALLY, really, really, REALLY, really don't want to have a shouting match before I leave. I'm so tired of fighting with everything and everyone (myself included). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;My cat is currently sitting on top of my backing bins. I don't think that Jazz understands what they are, only that they are stable enough for her to jump off of when on the prowl. She's stalking my Disney princess balloon at the moment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;Packing over a week in advance is difficult work. I'm constantly thinking about what I'll need and what I won't. The fact that Mom's not talking to me doesn't make it any easier when I'm deciding what furniture I want to take with me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;I'm just ready to be gone from all of this drama. I want to rid myself of this old shell and start something new and incredible again. Like last year, only more amazing because I won't have the same ties that I did when I first left. I feel so pent up right now, so frustrated, so tired. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;10 days and counting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;Even If It Kills Me by Motion City Soundtrack &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-7599180439882797414?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/7599180439882797414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/even-if-it-kills-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7599180439882797414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7599180439882797414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/even-if-it-kills-me.html' title='Even If It Kills Me'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-210756957275207068</id><published>2010-07-25T19:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T19:51:15.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cold As You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;And thus ends the exciting adventure in having the house to myself. My parents and younger brother arrived back in town from Cincinnati earlier this evening and I'm not sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, I'm glad I'm no longer responsible for everything that occurs in this house. On the other, I miss the silence. Oh, how I miss the silence. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;For a while, the quiet of the house freaked me out. Every horror movie I've ever seen raced through my mind as I opened the bathroom door or walked out to the garage. I could just imagine a bathtub full of blood, or a chainsaw-carrying psychopath hiding in the dark. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;But now. Now I think I'd much prefer the psychopath. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;At least the psychopath wouldn't turn on every fan in the house along with the air conditioning. I walked in from work today and the house was a good twenty degrees colder than when I had left. I'm currently typing this blog post from my bed, where I'm wrapped in sweatpants, a hoodie, and two comforters. Yeah, I usually sleep with two comforters on when my mom is around. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;I made a mistake this week that I continue to keep making. It's so irritating that I can't learn from the past. But being the type of person I am (romantic novelist who falls in love with ideas rather than actual people), I was doomed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;I feel like this was a week for mistakes. And lessons. And adventures. I think I learned more about myself this week than I did during the entire first semester of college. Granted, there's a reason I didn't learn much about myself during that semester, but that's also the reason I'm so in-tune with myself right now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;The summer's not over yet, though, and there is still a lot of stuff running through my head. In two weeks, I'll be out of this town and back home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;I want everything to be settled then. I want my bridges burned. I want to be free. We'll see where life takes me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF9966;"&gt;Cold As You by Taylor Swift&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-210756957275207068?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/210756957275207068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/cold-as-you.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/210756957275207068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/210756957275207068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/cold-as-you.html' title='Cold As You'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-8809135633710544185</id><published>2010-07-15T22:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T23:15:28.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Party Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;So I was hostessing at work today. This is a very, very simple task that involves seating people at various tables on a rotation. Not hard. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;Today started out like any other day. I went in, my manager told me things that I already knew because he likes to repeat himself, and I started working. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;Today a very nice lady decided to approach me... Speaking French. As sad as I am to say this, I don't speak French. I knew enough to know that she was asking me if I spoke French, but all I could do was shake my head. She then asked me, in Spanish, if I spoke Spanish. I realize that supposedly, I've been learning Spanish since the first grade (had I stayed at the elementary school that I was in for kindergarten, I would have actually learned French instead... and Japanese) I am not a fluent Spanish speaker. Not even close - although my Spanish 211 class in college helped out a lot. Anyway, the moment I sat her at her table, I was sorely tempted to run out of the restaurant and buy every Rosetta Stone within a ten mile radius. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;On another note, I was woken up a few days ago at 9:30 in the morning by my good friend J. J and I have a really great friendship, but after reading the text he sent me, I definitely started doubting whether or not I could consider him a friend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;His text read "Have you read all the Harry Potter books?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;..... Yes. Yes I have. I am an avid Harry Potter fan, so much so that for a brief period of time, I could have accurately described myself as a FanGirl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;"Does Dumbledore die?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;..... I'm an aspiring author. Why would I give away such key plot points?! As I look back on it, I really wish that I had created some complete nonsense story and fed it to him. Instead, I took a deep breath and gave a vague sketch of the plot. I'm a terrible person. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;My all-time favorite band, McFly, just released their new single to the radio. The song is called "Party Girl." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;Let me declare something: I love McFly. I've been a HUGE supporter of their music ever since I stumbled across them in 2005. They resurrected Brit Pop from an untimely grave. Their song "Five Colours in Her Hair" was incredible (especially the re-make that they did for their US album), so was their last single "One for the Radio." That song was a bit more mainstream that I had previously seen them do, but it was still along the lines of McFly awesomeness. Of course, my favorite McFly song was "Transylvania" on their &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;Motion In The Ocean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt; album. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;But I digress. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;Their new song, titled "Party Girl" surprised me. Maybe it was the random female voice at the beginning. Maybe it was the synth. Maybe it was the way I kept expecting to hear "caught in a bad romance..." after the first five seconds... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;Please don't get me wrong. I don't hate it. I still love McFly. Danny, Dougie, Tom, and Harry all have my heart (though Dougie is still my favorite). I will still buy the album when it comes out September 6th. I was just a bit surprised and disappointed that they sound exactly like everything else on the radio these days. I'm hoping that the album will show a bit more variety. But like Tom said when he introduced the song on a British radio station a few days ago. "It's the end of the beginning." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;Facebook just bumped me off for site maintenance. It's sad that this bothers me so much. I feel like I shouldn't be so dependent on the internet. And yet here I sit, holding six different conversations, playing music, checking my e-mail, and writing this post when I should be fast asleep for my morning shift tomorrow. Hmmm. Oh well :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FFFF;"&gt;Party Girl by McFly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-8809135633710544185?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/8809135633710544185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/party-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8809135633710544185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8809135633710544185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/party-girl.html' title='Party Girl'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-7465341357200776093</id><published>2010-07-13T17:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T17:08:27.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blank Static Screen</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;My friend, R, has been giving me grief about writing a blog for my band, LIN. I am of the opinion that this blog will be terribly boring until things actually start *happening* with my band. As of now, my band mate is four hours away from me and we haven't written anything new in ages. I just haven't felt like music-writing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;HOWEVER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;I did finally break my writer's block! It took a terrible thunder storm and a close call with a bolt of lightning to bring the words back to me. Which is weird, but I'm not going to question, I'm just going to roll with it. Thanks to the return of my senses, I might actually reach my self-imposed deadline. The book *might* actually be finished by the end of summer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;I'm so excited about the close of this book. There are only a few more scenes that I have to work to piece together, and then of course I have to write the final ending. But it's going to be beautiful when I finally finish. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;I'm hoping that Warped Tour will help to fuel the fire that's been started inside of me, forging the words that I type out. All of the excitement is exactly what I need. Right now I have my iTunes library on shuffle to give me some random music that I haven't listened to in forever. There are so many songs that I haven't actually listened to - for good reason - but now they're helping my concentration since I can't sing along to them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCCC;"&gt;The Blank Static Screen by VersaEmerge &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-7465341357200776093?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/7465341357200776093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/blank-static-screen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7465341357200776093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7465341357200776093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/blank-static-screen.html' title='The Blank Static Screen'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-1236696877862358989</id><published>2010-07-12T21:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T21:13:13.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuzzy Blue Lights</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;I feel like I've hit a solid brick wall in every single creative endeavor I've ever started. There's no music inside of me right now, and the words that usually flow into a story have all but dried up. In the past two weeks, I've been able to play only covers and have written three sentences in my book. I'm so incredibly frustrated. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;I've taken to having random adventures, hoping that they'll spur me into writing something, anything, that could be remotely useful. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;Two nights ago, my friends C, J, J, and I played putt-putt. On a whim, we decided that we would go ahead and spend the extra $3 to play on the bumper boats. It was WORTH IT. I don't think I've ever had so much fun in my life. We all got soaked and proceeded to buy a deck of cards and play B/S at a local coffee shop. I adore B/S. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;I'm getting super-psyched for the my Ultimate Adventure, going to Warped Tour. There are going to be so many incredible bands performing. I was surprised that I actually knew most of them, haha. It's going to be an  incredible day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;Only a few more weeks until E, M, and I move into our new apartment. I can't wait to get back to writing music with E. Maybe it'll go better than it has with me on my own. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;Fuzzy Blue Lights by Owl City&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-1236696877862358989?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/1236696877862358989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/fuzzy-blue-lights.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1236696877862358989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1236696877862358989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/07/fuzzy-blue-lights.html' title='Fuzzy Blue Lights'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-848376145823624651</id><published>2010-06-27T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T19:18:10.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;My adventurous trip to PA via train with E and J was sadly cancelled. I am super, super bummed. Although since it was supposed to be a surprise for M, she shouldn't be too upset. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Anyway, it was cancelled because the money that I was supposed to put forward for my train ticket will now be paying for another kind of ticket. It turns out that the tags on my Cobalt expired back in February, during my two-month absence from home. Dad failed to change them out, so I was given a $155 ticket. The really sad thing was that I was on my way to Church when I got the ticket. Gee, thanks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Anyway, my exciting adventure at Cracker Barrel starts tomorrow morning at 10:30. I'm also going to sign my resignation papers at Forever 21. I feel kind-of sad about it. I was getting used to F21... Oh well. I'm going to look so ridiculous in my outfit. I had to buy a boys size shirt to wear since they were the only ones with "button-down collars." Stupid shirts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I can't wait to hit up my college town as soon as possible. It's going to be crazy-awesome fun. And E's coming down in a few days to bum around with me. My small town has no idea what it's in for with the two of us running around. HA. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Lost by Saving Jane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-848376145823624651?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/848376145823624651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/lost.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/848376145823624651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/848376145823624651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/lost.html' title='Lost'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-1450897998772930002</id><published>2010-06-20T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T16:37:01.692-07:00</updated><title type='text'>La La Lie</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;So R, C, J, K and I saw Toy Story 3 the other night. ... ... ... It exceeded my highest expectations and made my night! I adored how it kept with the childhood amazingness of the first movie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I started tearing apart my Band Story today (yeah, I know I said I was doing that a while ago, but I'm easily distracted and other things came up). I deleted an entire chapter so far, cutting out the role of a main character who I had completely forgotten to give a last name to. Obviously he wasn't too very important. He still has a tiny role at the beginning, otherwise I would have felt bad. Cutting a character's role isn't like killing a character off entirely. I did that once, and I felt haunted for weeks after. No doubt I'll have to do it again, but I dislike it and for now, no one has to die. Maybe a drug incident or something, but not death. Not in this story. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;Anyway, I'm having to redefine a lot of the characters because of their shaky basis. I figure since all I'm doing is working and bumming around, I might as well get something done. I have less than fifty days, and it's not looking very good. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I can't wait to get out of this town and be with my college friends again. I love my friends here, don't get me wrong, but I miss my freedom. Last night I rolled into the driveway at five in the morning (right before the sun came up) thinking that since I beat the sun, I wasn't late. That is not the belief shared by my parents. I'm surprised that I'm not locked away in my room until the end of the summer, but they were just upset that they didn't know where I was/ what might have happened to me/ if I was alive or not....... yeaaaaaaah. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;La La Lie by Jack's Mannequin&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-1450897998772930002?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/1450897998772930002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/la-la-lie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1450897998772930002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1450897998772930002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/la-la-lie.html' title='La La Lie'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-7258610467387907222</id><published>2010-06-16T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T16:34:52.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sit Still</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;So I started writing these Character Sketches of all of my awesome characters a few nights ago. I spent three hours deconstructing the main character, figuring that Min would be the hardest. But alas, her boy is much more difficult to accurately describe. There's this whole problem where I've built him up so much in my mind, and I have to realize that he's not perfect. Oh, Alex. He *would* be the one to give me trouble. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;I'm really looking forward to getting to the rest of the band. Tim, Scott, and Oliver are sure to amuse me while I'm figuring them out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;On another note, TOY STORY THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm so incredibly excited about seeing this movie. Which is weird, because while I think of Toy Story as an authentic Disney movie, and I adore Disney, I still haven't seen the Princess and the Frog. I feel weird about a movie that's supposed to be the next Classic Disney movie with the next Disney Princess. Maybe I'm just too old to really integrate a new Princess into my mind. I mean, Kingdom Hearts has kind-of established the Disney Princesses. Although.... Alice wasn't a princess... And Pocahontas wasn't in the game. Which was lame, because Pocahontas was totally a Disney Princess. Okay, now my head is spinning. Suffice it to say I am incredibly excited for the movie on Friday, with my favorite boys. It should be good fun. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;45 days until August. 53 days until we move into our apartment!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;Sit Still by Brightwood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-7258610467387907222?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/7258610467387907222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/sit-still.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7258610467387907222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7258610467387907222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/sit-still.html' title='Sit Still'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-1265204828299543716</id><published>2010-06-14T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T17:28:55.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflections...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;So today I had an interview. It went rather well. I was happy with it :) I've gotten the hang of this interview-thing. Haha. Anyway. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;After I got through the questioning and the pretending-to-be-a-happy-bubbly-person thing, I decided to hit the pool. I've restarted reading The Eye of The World (Book 1: Wheel of Time) because it's a paperback and I figured if I dropped it in the water, I could start replacing my paperback WoT books with hardbacks. I got really into it, and am sunburnt because of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;After I put the book down, I began reflecting on my own book (as of yet, still untitled) and I can't say that I'm happy about the way it's going. There's so much work yet to do. My characters need to be more fleshed out. They're still 2-D. I'm boggled by just how much I have yet to do; it almost hurts to think about. I've done so much with this story, but it's still not where I want it to be. But I still love writing, and I'll continue until I finish this stupid story about a band and a silly girl with a guitar. My new timeline for it still says that I should finish the rough draft by the end of the summer. Hopefully, I'll be completely finished with it by the beginning of next summer. By then, I can start peddling it to agents and publishing companies. We'll see. I have big hopes for it. And if it doesn't work out at first, Jane Austen was turned down time and time again as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;47 more days until August. The days seem to be going by even slower than I could have imagined. There's just so much to do. And so much muck in my head that I can hardly think straight most of the time. I'm such a silly, silly girl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;Reflections by Lost In Normandy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-1265204828299543716?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/1265204828299543716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/reflections.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1265204828299543716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1265204828299543716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/reflections.html' title='Reflections...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-7255290871282877642</id><published>2010-06-04T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T20:04:43.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Need You Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;Dear radio stations: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;You are not being witty when you play "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum at 1:15 in the morning. Yes, I know that "it's a quarter after one/ I'm all alone/ And I need you now." But when you do that night after night, it gets a little old. And it wasn't funny in the first place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;On another note: my job has started rubbing off on me. Stocking shelves in a clothing store and manning the fitting room can suck out the intelligent part of your brain and replace it with fashion. My fashion senses have started going crazy, and I've been talking camis, belts, and accessories ALL DAY LONG. You would not *believe* the outfit I've picked out for myself tomorrow. It's pure madness. Like a style bomb went off. Also, I'm going to my roommate's town for a night (probably not even that if I have to work the next day) and my away bag is FULL of clothes because I don't know what I'll wear to the concert we're going to. FULL. I don't *need* that many clothes, but I take them because I need help putting the proper outfit together. (sigh). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;The upshot of all of this is that when I hit up E's house, after the concert, we're going to lay down some awesome tracks and use them to enter a contest. First prize is $1000. Heck yes. I'll keep you updated on that :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;Need You Now by Lady Antebellum &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-7255290871282877642?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/7255290871282877642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/need-you-now.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7255290871282877642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7255290871282877642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/need-you-now.html' title='Need You Now'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-6680233867701385540</id><published>2010-06-03T22:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T22:19:11.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stranger, You and I</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;I just need to stop thinking. Thinking leads to remembering leads to questioning leads to me staying up late at night with my only wish being that I could slip into a beautiful state of unconsciousness until I have to wake up for work. Instead, it's 1:11 am on Thursday morning in this sleepy little town and I'm sitting here at my computer wishing that things could be different. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;But they can't be, and I hate that I'm wasting my time dreaming instead of living. Then again, I guess that's the price of living in a small town. I probably wouldn't have become a writer had I not been deprived of grand adventures. I have to have fun somehow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;Stranger, You and I by Daphne Loves Derby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-6680233867701385540?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/6680233867701385540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/stranger-you-and-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6680233867701385540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6680233867701385540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/06/stranger-you-and-i.html' title='Stranger, You and I'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-2622784246052346566</id><published>2010-05-31T22:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-31T22:41:15.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Own These Streets</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;61 Days and counting. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;I've been writing in this blog a lot more frequently because I've been trying to figure a lot of things out lately. It's not that everything has gotten more complicated, it's just that I've decided that now is the time to clear away all of the old cobwebs, and now I'm confused about what to keep and what to throw away. It's not an easy decision by a long shot. But I know that I'll make the right decisions. Or at least, I know that I'll get by with whatever I choose. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;I'm going running in four and a half hours with D and E(2). I haven't done this since the beginning of May when I was still at college and utilizing our free gym. But I'm really excited about it. I can't wait. Even though I'm not going to go to sleep tonight and then going to run three miles (?!?!). Good thing I spend most of my time sleeping the day away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;My new job has proven an interesting experience for me. While I'm not really into what I do, I'm learning a lot about people. I'm still terrified, though, and I think it'll be a good growing-up thing for me to learn how to get past that fear. I've always been irrational about my shyness. In school, the complaint that I heard from teachers wasn't "she acts out and is irresponsible," but instead "she's a good student, but needs to speak up more." I'm tired of being that girl. I'm ready to become someone else. Besides, I need to be able to sell my novel, right? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;Speaking of my novel, the first draft is still scheduled to be finished by the end of July (crosses fingers and prays). There are always complications that could cause it to extend into August, but I'm really, really pushing for it to be done by the time E(1), M, and I move into our new apartment. I need to be ready to move on with my life. So by Christmas, it will be completely and totally finished. And ready to send to publishers. We'll see if that goes anywhere. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;Lost In Normandy is reuniting this weekend!!!!!!!!!! We're not going to be playing anywhere, but we'll still be together. I haven't seen E(1) since I came back from college. E(1) is getting us tickets for the Jonas Sees In Color concert :D If you haven't checked them out yet, you should. My favorite of their songs is "Loose Threads" but they also have great tracks like "Devil In The City," "Avalanche," and "West Coast." All of their songs are great, but those are my favorites. &lt;3&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;I'm booking train tickets for LIN's trip to PA with J. It's going to be EPIC AWESOMENESS. We're so crazy. And we're taking a *train.* SOOO awesome! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;I Own These Streets by Jonas Sees In Color&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-2622784246052346566?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/2622784246052346566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-own-these-streets.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2622784246052346566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2622784246052346566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-own-these-streets.html' title='I Own These Streets'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-7309944274502024621</id><published>2010-05-30T23:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T23:34:22.065-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I Missing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I hate writing. I hate it so, so much. But I love it, too. I can feel the story there, I can live it again and again in my false memories, but I can't put words to what is happening in my mind. The words aren't right. They're empty and meaningless for the time being. I feel like such a jerk for putting Min through all of this. I mean, she's going to come out stronger for it, but still. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;It sucks. I start writing and all I can see is a mirror. I don't want to lose part of me in this novel. It started out as nothing, but now it has become everything. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I've come a very long way from my first novel.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The scary thing is that the revision process of this story is going to be a lot more intense than the first draft. I'm scared. I don't know the ending anymore. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On an unrelated note, my job scares the hell out of me. It's not a hard job. There's no reason for me to be so terrified of walking in the doors and clocking in. But I am afraid, so very, very afr&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;aid. I'm afraid that I'm going to mess up, that I'm going to fail, that I'm not going to be good enough. But lately I've felt like that about everything. It's like something has a constant grip on my lungs and I can't really breathe. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;On one hand, I think it's good that I'm out of my comfort zone. I'm tired of being the shy, quiet girl in the back of the room who never speaks up. I want to grow up. But everything that I've been through has said that it's just better to go unnoticed. I'm not sure how this is going to work out when E and I become famous rock stars... So I stay at my new job, and I try and get more comfortable with it. Maybe it'll help me grow as a person, or maybe I'll screw up and get fired. Either way, it beats sitting at home. Although, either way, I'm going to be a bit more insane by the end of the summer. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I'm tired of dreaming. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFCC;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Am I Missing by Dashboard Confessional. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-7309944274502024621?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/7309944274502024621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/am-i-missing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7309944274502024621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7309944274502024621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/am-i-missing.html' title='Am I Missing'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-2774053679521024239</id><published>2010-05-27T11:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T12:18:48.197-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kiss and Sell</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;So here's to the start of a new adventure - my first day of my first real job. *insert terrified face here.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;I've noticed something. Whenever I'm nervous or unsure about a situation I'm going to be placed in, I tend to obsess over my outfit that I'm going to wear to the situation. Right now I've delved into the deepest corners of my closet and still have no idea what I'm going to wear tonight. I also tend to listen to sad music, but I think that's just a phase that I'm in right now in my iTunes library. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;I think the thing I miss most about college is having a giant group of friends in one convenient place. If E went out and M was busy, all I had to do was walk down the hallway and I'd find &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;someone... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;not that I ever really did that, but the point is still there. It's very lonely at home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;I've started reading the twelfth Wheel of Time book: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;The Gathering Storm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;. Meh. I respect Brandon Sanderson immensely for stepping in and doing what had to be done after Robert Jordan passed away. But still. I miss the way the books used to be written :(  I'm really, really excited to see what will happen in the final books, though. I mean, it's been thousands upon thousands of pages. I never thought the books would come to a close. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;I also finished &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;Persistence of Memory&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt; by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes. It blew my mind that this book combined every one of the books that she had previously written. Like, in the back of my mind, I realized that all of the books were connected, but this book spelled it out for me and I think I actually, excitedly, shrieked when I realized it. Great book :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;Because of the excessive reading I've been doing lately, my own book has been neglected somewhat more than I had anticipated. I just keep getting so into what is going on in the story that I have no idea how to handle my own character right now. I'm getting lost in the world I've built out of words and boredom. I'm still planning on finishing it by the summer though. There is a definite ending, I just have to figure out how to get Min to see that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33FFFF;"&gt;Kiss and Sell by The Maine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-2774053679521024239?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/2774053679521024239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/kiss-and-sell.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2774053679521024239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2774053679521024239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/kiss-and-sell.html' title='Kiss and Sell'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-2363220442992183412</id><published>2010-05-19T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T14:04:14.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Very Good Advice</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCFF;"&gt;I got my very first *real* job today. I'm pretty sure that it usually takes more than three minutes to interview, usually, but it was fun and now I'm going to have a paycheck and can take that on my trip to visit my roommate :D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCFF;"&gt;I still have a count-down until I get to go back home. 73 days and counting. I really can't wait to be on my own, though I've had some fun since I've been back in town. I really, really miss performing though. I also miss going to the beach. I need some sunshine (it's been rainy here - blah). Sunshine and cute boys and my girls back at my side. Ah yes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCFF;"&gt;I cannot wait until Alice in Wonderland comes out on DVD soon. I know a lot of people think that it was lame, but I absolutely loved that movie. Maybe it's because I'm half-mad as is. :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCFF;"&gt;This novel that I'm writing is going to end up kicking my butt. (sigh). I must prevail! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCCCFF;"&gt;Very Good Advice - Alice in Wonderland (covered by Robert Smith) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-2363220442992183412?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/2363220442992183412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/very-good-advice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2363220442992183412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2363220442992183412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/very-good-advice.html' title='Very Good Advice'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-3024962804777178397</id><published>2010-05-17T00:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T01:12:53.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Future Freaks Me Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I always wanted write things that would follow in the footsteps of Austen or the Bront&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 38px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;ë sisters. I knew that it wouldn't really happen that way, but it was I dreamt of. I have greatly overestimated my abilities. Maybe I'll be stuck writing bubble-gum-pop novels for the rest of my life. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I just wanted to do a little bit more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 38px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I think that being at home has made me lose a lot of the faith in myself that I had gained in college. It doesn't take much to revert back to one's natural state, and all of the ground that I had gained in college seems to have disappeared. Leaving me confused and unsteady. I miss being sure of my abilities. 76 days left until I move into my own apartment far away from this place (not that I'm counting...). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 38px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;My cat is determined to kill me, that I *am* sure of. Ever since I got home, I've felt absolutely terrible. I might just have a horrible summer cold, but there's a distinct possibility that I am allergic to my cat. So naturally, I became her favorite person in the whole house. She sits with me, sleeps in my bed, and follows me wherever I go. I'm actually afraid of her. She knows what she's doing, too. Silly cat. I don't know who she thinks is going to stay up all night with her if she kills me off. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 38px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;There are really only two good things that came out of this weekend (Besides my younger brother turning 17... when did he get so OLD?!). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 38px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;1) I got the first part of the final book in the Wheel of Time series. It's been in bookstores for a while, but I wanted to re-read the books and catch myself up on what was going on (these books are HUGE for those of you who don't know). I also finished more than half of the 836 page book that precedes A Memory Of Light Part 1: The Gathering Storm, which is Knife of Dreams. Because I have no life. And have not been able to leave my house all weekend. Which is coincidentally why I'm writing this blog. At 4:05 in the morning. Because I have no life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 38px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;2) I'm almost finished with my first-ever novel. This is a big claim to make, considering I'll probably carry on through fifty-or-so more pages, but it's getting there. All the pieces are coming together :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 38px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I might have to split it up and make it a series. 200+ pages seems a bit much for a bubble-gum-pop novel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 38px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;Meh. We'll see where the wind takes me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 38px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 38px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;The Future Freaks Me Out by Motion City Soundtrack&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-3024962804777178397?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/3024962804777178397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/future-freaks-me-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/3024962804777178397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/3024962804777178397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/future-freaks-me-out.html' title='The Future Freaks Me Out'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-2521650165442368041</id><published>2010-05-09T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T22:58:47.849-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3695</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCFFFF;"&gt;Usually I adore when I can perfectly recall the last time I listened to a song. I can remember what I was wearing, what I was feeling, where I was, what was going on around me. Lately, that's not as much fun as it used to be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCFFFF;"&gt;(sigh) I'm ready to get back to where I was. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCFFFF;"&gt;83 more days until I move in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCFFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#CCFFFF;"&gt;3685 by The Spill Canvas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-2521650165442368041?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/2521650165442368041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/3695.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2521650165442368041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2521650165442368041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/3695.html' title='3695'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-6279018647605154086</id><published>2010-05-05T22:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T22:45:09.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The End</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;It's over. And now I'm left wondering where all of the time went. Are there more chapters? Or a sequel? Or is that all that was written?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;The End by Mayday Parade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-6279018647605154086?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/6279018647605154086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6279018647605154086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6279018647605154086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/05/end.html' title='The End'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-1366150017469366421</id><published>2010-04-04T21:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T21:44:45.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thks Fr Th Mmrs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;I can feel the new chapters unfolding in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;The old pages are consumed by the flames of the past. I can almost see their ashes floating away as I continue to turn the sheets of paper that have my life scrawled across them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;There's only one way to go now, and that's forward. All of the memories, the unsaid things, the pain and the happiness must be forgotten, because they're already gone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;All you can do is live in the present and hope for the future. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FFFF;"&gt;Thks Fr Th Mmrs by Fall Out Boy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-1366150017469366421?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/1366150017469366421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/04/running-with-devil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1366150017469366421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1366150017469366421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/04/running-with-devil.html' title='Thks Fr Th Mmrs'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-8667393117832672950</id><published>2010-03-25T17:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T17:26:48.529-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes, Even Stars Break</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I keep replaying everything in my head, trying to figure out where everything fell apart and my world became a broken biscuit. I haven't found anything so far, so I'm guessing that I'm really perfectly fine and just being a big blob of bad feelings for nothing. I do know that there's no way in Hell I'd have been able to make it through these past few weeks without my friends, and I love you all for that :) And things are going to be okay :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;It's really amazing how the worst things that happen in life can bring out such beautiful work. My new song is going to be incredible, and that's all I can say about that. Thanks to Suites for helping out with the music! There's no way I could have written a suitable guitar part by myself, I'm just not that good yet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;E and I also did some incredible work on an old song, Birthday Wishes, the other night in the Cultural Arts Building. The music is simple, but our harmonies are going to be epic. We sang it in Dunkin' Donuts last night after band practice and got free donuts out of it :) Gotta love college. Also gotta love the fact that after class, I can just hop in the car with E and hit up the beach for the afternoon. Great way to forget about everything that's going on. There's still so much tension and stress that sometimes just getting away is the only remedy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;My pink (supposed to be purple) hair dye is fading (because I bought cheap crap- but who cares, it was a rash decision based on the need for change) so I'm going to get it professionally done when M and I hit up the good ol' hometown. My poor hair stylist is going to have a fit when she sees it (and an even bigger one when I ask her to hack most of my hair off... oh dear). I also talked my mom into letting me get a tattoo when I visit M over the summer. I have this insatiable urge for change, I just have to be patient until it's time for me to study abroad (hurrah) or Lost In Normandy gets super-famous (probably more likely than me moving to London within the next two years).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I have officially declared my Pre-Creative Writing major (I won't technically be considered a Creative Writing major until I get accepted into the BFA program, which will hopefully happen after next semester). Too bad I've been unable to write anything for the past two weeks. Hmm. I wonder why. It doesn't matter though, I'll get my muchness back eventually. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Yes, Even Stars Break by The Scene Aesthetic &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-8667393117832672950?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/8667393117832672950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/03/yes-even-stars-break.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8667393117832672950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8667393117832672950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2010/03/yes-even-stars-break.html' title='Yes, Even Stars Break'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-2354717763768779559</id><published>2009-12-28T16:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T16:55:06.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eyes for this Town</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;I hate feeling like I've been wasting my life. What am I doing? Where am I going? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;I feel like I should be doing something, something huge, but I can't. I'm held back by my own inhibitions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;When did home cease to be home? When did my home become another city? I'm sitting in my room in my parents' house, the room that I've had for the past nine years, and I'm right back where I was, feeling like a prisoner. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;I don't belong here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;My life is still all about counting down days, hours, minutes. I have a week until I have to leave. A week for me to get through everything that I need to do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;I won't be home again until March. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;Two months never seemed so long. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;Eyes For This Town by To Write A Riot!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-2354717763768779559?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/2354717763768779559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/12/eyes-for-this-town.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2354717763768779559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2354717763768779559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/12/eyes-for-this-town.html' title='Eyes for this Town'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-8298499178178327710</id><published>2009-11-21T22:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T22:16:11.955-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To Whom It May Concern</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;I know it's been forever since I've written in this blog. Everything is so incredibly crazy and awesome that it's hard to remember that things need to be kept track of. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;I'm going home on Tuesday and I've never been more excited to go back to my sleepy little town. I can't wait to sleep in my own bed, be with my cat, read a book by the fire and just relax until I have to return for finals. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;Time seems to be stretched out here. Days feel like weeks, weeks feel like months, months feel like years. If things keep going at this pace, I'll be an old maid before I know it. I was home not too long ago, but it feels like ages and ages have passed since I last wandered the familiar streets of home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;It's hard, but I've got to meet my New Years Resolution. I *need* to finish my novel. It just has to be done, otherwise I'll always be stuck in this perpetual weirdness. I hate that my writing tends to mirror my life, because then I'm left with no definite ending. I don't want to be my character, but it's so hard to separate the two personalities. I'm not sure that I can even describe everything that's running through my head right now when it comes to this story. I wish I could just pull myself out, but I'm too involved now. There's too much of me in this story. I'll never get myself out until I finish it. Sometimes I wish I was my character, just because I feel like I know her so much better than I do myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;To Whom It May Concern by Emery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-8298499178178327710?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/8298499178178327710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/11/to-whom-it-may-concern.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8298499178178327710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8298499178178327710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/11/to-whom-it-may-concern.html' title='To Whom It May Concern'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-9015947136994833997</id><published>2009-10-09T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T12:39:20.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If You're Bored...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;E and I have our first official gig as &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;Lost In Normandy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt; tomorrow. We're so vastly unprepared that it's comical. Not that we care. We're still performing. The show must go on, you know :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;I'm so excited though. It's not even a big gig. We're playing at a music organization's fundraiser on campus (and we're both in the organization, so yeah...). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;We were supposed to go to a show the other night. Supposedly Racing Kites was performing. I checked them out (E apparently met them once and brought them food. They love her.) and I really liked their sound. So we went to the venue where they were supposed to be playing. M dropped us off and we ended up chilling for about ten minutes before finding out that Racing Kites was not actually playing that night --- great. Instead of calling M and getting her to pick us up again, we ended up grabbing pizza at a local NY pizza place (the most incredibly amazing pizza I've ever had in my entire life) and then we took a bus back to campus. We got on the wrong bus to take us back, but the driver assured us that we could transfer to another bus. The transfer place was behind Target... the sketchiest place ever. It was a good experience though; we needed to learn how to take the buses anyway. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;I'm getting really pissed with the weather we're having down here. It's October. It's not supposed to be ninety-one degrees in October. I want to wear my sweaters :( &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;If You're Bored by Bayside &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-9015947136994833997?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/9015947136994833997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/10/if-youre-bored.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/9015947136994833997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/9015947136994833997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/10/if-youre-bored.html' title='If You&apos;re Bored...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-7387158661106336964</id><published>2009-09-26T23:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T23:50:02.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Echoes of An Empire</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;So I guess I owe everyone a blog post. Everything has been crazy busy lately between getting all of the work done for my classes and keeping up with everyone at home/away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I will say that M, E, and I went out to eat yesterday at Ruby Tuesdays and I was overjoyed to be eating *real* food. It was amazing. M asked specifically for a guy waiter (embarrassing) so we had a waiter named L. Being who we are, we had to talk to him... that's just how we roll. We saw &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;Transformers 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt; last night (it was my third time... sheesh). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;Tonight we saw a documentary called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;Food, Inc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt; about food production. Don't think I'm going to be eating burgers for a while... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I got fourteen hours of sleep last night. M, E, and I watched &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;The Vampire Diaries&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt; for a little while and then I crashed. It was pretty epic. I'm still so very, very tired. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;In the morning, E and I are going with M to her Quaker Meeting House. I really, really liked it there the other week. I didn't think I'd be able to sit in silence for a whole hour, but it really wasn't that bad. Like, I got to think about some really deep stuff that I usually don't have time for. I thought about how much I missed my friends from home, especially R. But then it hit me that maybe it wasn't my friends that I was missing, but their familiarity. I knew almost everyone back home. Here, I know a bare handful of people. I know that this is going to change with time, but familiarity is so comforting, it's hard not to miss it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I'm so excited about coming home for the weekend. It's going to be amazing. :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;Echoes of an Empire: Picture Me Broken (awesome band w/ a girl screamer- you don't see many of those)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-7387158661106336964?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/7387158661106336964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/09/echoes-of-empire.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7387158661106336964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7387158661106336964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/09/echoes-of-empire.html' title='Echoes of An Empire'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-6180899734178685888</id><published>2009-09-13T14:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T15:33:28.865-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Such Great Heights</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;So I've got a four to seven page story due Tuesday for Creative Writing and I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing. The only thing I feel like writing right now is Min and Alex's story, but I can't turn that in for a grade. One, because I didn't specifically write it for this class and that's against the rules. Two, it's over sixty pages long. It always really sucks when you're stuck and can't move forward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;C and J came down on Friday. We had so much fun. Like... This weekend has been the most amazing three days of my life (despite the fact that they left to go home this morning). I'm actually kinda bummed right now. I'm gonna miss him :( But hopefully three weeks will go by more quickly than I feel like they will. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;I've gotta get back to this story. I've never had such a hard time writing before. Ugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCCC;"&gt;Such Great Heights by The Postal Service&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-6180899734178685888?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/6180899734178685888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/09/such-great-heights.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6180899734178685888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6180899734178685888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/09/such-great-heights.html' title='Such Great Heights'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-1512316546380519920</id><published>2009-09-05T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T10:50:11.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hold on Tight</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;So last night was the most amazing night ever. I wasn't quite sure how it was going to work out, since everything was set up to be so very awkward. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;E's mom picked us up from the dorm and we drove in traffic for two hours. Much fun there. I started writing my Cinderella story from the point of view of Anastasia, one of the wicked step-sisters. But I only have to write two pages, so I'm like, *cringe*. Only two pages.... *sigh* that's going to make an incredible story though... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Anyway, when we pulled up, C and J were driving past E's road coming to pick me up, and E totally called it. "Wouldn't it be funny, if like, when we turn into the road, they were turning into the road, too?" They missed the road, but they were there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;We ended up going to Chick-fil-e and then to this crazy-awesome bamboo forest where there was this old dilapidated house and some crazy old cars. It was the sketchiest thing I think I've ever seen. After that we rented Penelope and went back to Eve's house to watch. That is like, the most amazing movie ever. After the movie we went to this park where there were giant rocks for climbing and whatnot, so we climbed onto them and watched the stars. It was a good night :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Things are getting pretty insane overall. I'm so content to just sit back and watch it all unravel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Hold on Tight by Lost In Normandy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-1512316546380519920?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/1512316546380519920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/09/hold-on-tight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1512316546380519920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1512316546380519920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/09/hold-on-tight.html' title='Hold on Tight'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-5136165354806439067</id><published>2009-08-27T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T14:20:49.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Calm</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;7:17... not a bad time of morning, right? It's after sunrise, before the morning gets too late... Not bad. Wronggggg, especially when you wake up and realize that your alarm was set to the wrong time and you have just about thirteen minutes to get up, get ready, and get out the door. Guys might shrug and change their clothes, ready to go in three minutes, but girls... girls are another story entirely. Showers, make up, clothes... we need time to prepare ourselves for facing the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;So needless to say, when I opened my eyes to find sunlight streaming in through our tiny window, I freaked out. Did the alarm not go off? Was it broken? Did I turn it off in my sleep? I pondered these questions as I flew through half my morning routine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;With wet hair streaming behind me and only half of my face done up, I began to power-walk to class. I would have ran to the Cultural Arts building, had it not been for the incredibly bulging book bag that I'd strapped on. My calves ached by the time I'd crossed into the air conditioning, where the cold air burned my lungs...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;Anyway, that was my morning yesterday. I wrote that narrative as I waited outside for English class (my second class of the day). I had an hour to burn and nothing better to do with my time than write down what was running through my mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;Speaking of writing, I wrote a freaking incredible song the other day. It's my new baby. I gave it to a friend for his birthday. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;So my Creative Writing class is the most epic course in the world. I adore it. I don't speak up much on the whole, but no doubt I'm sure I will eventually. I've just got to find my comfort zone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;I'm supposed to be doing my English homework right now... hahaha... I've got to print it off tonight in J's room because E and I don't have a printer in our room and the iPrint station downstairs is broken or something like that -suckssssss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;I've started keeping a Writing Journal for Creative Writing. I've got one page about the auditions for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;The Wild Duck" that I went to the other day. I found it extremely interesting. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;I get to come home for Labor Day. I'm psyched to get my boots... I miss them so very much... and my cat, I really, really miss my cat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#66FF99;"&gt;Be Calm by Fun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-5136165354806439067?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/5136165354806439067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/be-calm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5136165354806439067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5136165354806439067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/be-calm.html' title='Be Calm'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-1195717817561080529</id><published>2009-08-23T00:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T00:38:18.591-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mixed Tape</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;Really? I love Babes, but really? I know you're reading this by the way, dear. I really appreciate your concern for my well-being, but you know I'm a big girl right? I've thoroughly thought this thing through, I promise. There's not a minute when I'm not thinking it through. I'm working it out. It'll be okay. I'll be okay. Take a deep breath, Babes, things will turn out fine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;These random guys from my floor have taken residence out in the hallway. I went out to see what was going on and our RA Jeremy was off to take care of it. I was amused. It's not that they're really crazy or anything, but sound travels. Especially at three in the morning. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;I'm really loving the freedom that college affords me. Like, E and I actually went out at 10:45 p.m. to get Cookout because we were hungry. At home, we could have never done that. It's pretty wicked. Of course, I still have my homework yet to do. I'm thinking that I'll do that on the morrow, as I have nothing else on my agenda. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;I never actually thought that I'd meet so many guys my first week of school. I met this guy, R, the other night and I think I'm going to talk him into taking me to the ATL concert at Myrtle Beach. Good idea? Probably not. Oh well :) If he's going to kill me or something, it might as well be after I see my favorite band. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;I will admit the fact that I can be a silly little girl sometimes. But sometimes it's nice to be a silly little girl and live in the moment. E and I had a discussion walking back to the dorm about conformity and whatnot. So I handed her my food to carry for a second and I ran through the sprinklers. It was awesome. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF66;"&gt;The Mixed Tape by Jack's Mannequin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-1195717817561080529?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/1195717817561080529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/mixed-tape.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1195717817561080529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1195717817561080529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/mixed-tape.html' title='The Mixed Tape'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-1674893914181689340</id><published>2009-08-22T11:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T11:36:42.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Sweet Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#9999FF;"&gt;So I'm very happy to report that I survived my first week of college classes (well, technically it's my first half-week, but whatev). We've been having such a crazy awesome time of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#9999FF;"&gt;Weds night, E, S, and I went to the Five Times August performance and it was amazingly incredible. We got to sit right up front. Brad, the lead singer of the band, actually accepted my friend request on facebook (yay! it rocked my socks). Then E and S both went back to the dorm and I met up and chilled with J for the fireworks. We ended up hanging out with this guy, G, who J had danced with at one of the clubs. M joined us and so did some of G's friends. I've been meeting so many guys this week that it's insane. I'm hoping that it's just because I make friends easier with guys. Otherwise, my life is about to become wayyyy more complicated than it needs to be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#9999FF;"&gt;I've been talking to C a lot through texting and whatnot. He just got a webcam, so we'll be talking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#9999FF;"&gt;It's really funny, I'm so ready to come back home to visit, just to visit. So much fun :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#9999FF;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#9999FF;"&gt;Blah, nothing else to really say. But I'm going to grab a Mt. Dew and chill out :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#9999FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#9999FF;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#9999FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#9999FF;"&gt;My Sweet Time by Alexz Johnson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-1674893914181689340?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/1674893914181689340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-sweet-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1674893914181689340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1674893914181689340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-sweet-time.html' title='My Sweet Time'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-6115104019893936049</id><published>2009-08-16T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T08:43:45.497-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Umbrellas and Elephants</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;So I'm officially moved in to my dorm room at college. I'm pretty psyched. It's going to be a wicked awesome year. My roommate and I are getting along and no fights have started yet... so I'll take that as a good sign. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;I'm listening to these two lame guys talking out in the hallway. I find it amusing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;A lot of the drama that I've left behind at home has completely evaporated, like it never existed. And I'm basically shocked that it could have ever been that easy. Things are really great here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;I do miss all of my friends terribly though... But I'm looking forward to making new friends. It's not something that I've ever found very easy, but maybe I can learn  how to do it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;Homesickness hasn't hit me yet. It will, though, when I remember that Jazz isn't here. :( &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;LoL, silly kitty...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF99;"&gt;Umbrellas and Elephants by Cinematic Sunrise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-6115104019893936049?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/6115104019893936049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/umbrellas-and-elephants.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6115104019893936049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6115104019893936049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/umbrellas-and-elephants.html' title='Umbrellas and Elephants'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-2136755454331474121</id><published>2009-08-14T19:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T19:35:57.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Look Back...</title><content type='html'>So here I am. In my college town. I'm chilling in a Sleep Inn listening to some five year old kids running around in the hallway (it's 10:22 at night, by the by). I just finished watching a romantic comedy with Mom and T. I'm not sure why I find them so very appealing, but I do, so whatever. &lt;div&gt;The four hour car ride down here was excruciating. I sat in the back seat of my mom's car with two duffle bags, my purse, my laptop, my mini-fridge (which is SO  not very mini), my suitcase, and various other bags that wouldn't fit in the trunk. I'm astounded at my dad's packing skills to be honest. It was incredible. Anyway, I ended up watching &lt;i&gt;I Love You, Man&lt;/i&gt; on my laptop on the way down. I thought that since it's a funny movie, it would distract me from the sad tickling sensation behind my eyes. I'm proud of myself, I only cried a little bit, though last night I was practically bawling. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not too sad about leaving, but I guess I'm a little upset about all of the "maybes" and "might have beens" that I left behind. And now I have to start over. I hate when a story ends like that. Just when everything starts getting good, there is the end of the book. And you have to wait ages for the next book to come. And yes, I know that my story hasn't technically ended, but I feel like this week has been the big season finale and I have to wait for the new season to start. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also want to thank all of my friends out there for all of the support you've all given me. I was texting with D earlier and I confessed to him that I wasn't sure if I was ready or not. He was so very, very sweet. All of my friends have been like this. And I know that we're all starting new chapters (or new seasons) in our lives. I think it's absolutely great that we're all so connected. So here's a shout out to everyone! I LOVE YOU ALL &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 And we are definitely going to be getting together homecoming weekend, even if I have to hitchhike home :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm finishing this post and thinking about new beginnings. I know things have to end. So here I go off to big bad college. This is the end of one season, let's see what new twists and turns the next one takes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't Look Back by School Boy Humor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-2136755454331474121?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/2136755454331474121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/dont-look-back.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2136755454331474121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2136755454331474121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/dont-look-back.html' title='Don&apos;t Look Back...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-700679299685314401</id><published>2009-08-13T21:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T22:21:02.092-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One Track Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;So this week has been the very definition of crazy. I don't think so much stuff has *ever* happened in seven consecutive days. And I'm still reeling from all of it. At this point, I don't know how I'm still standing. Absolutely everything has changed, and I'm finding that while it really hurts to conform to the alterations, it's all for the best. Maybe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;The only thing I've been able to play on my guitar lately has been "Thinking of You" by Katy Perry, and that's not such a happy song. But it's pretty, and it's pertinent. So I shall continue to play it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;Today Babes woke me up by cuddling with me. I freaked because I thought he was my cat... and then it occurred to me that if the warm cuddling thing was a cat, it was a freakishly large cat and so NOT Jazz. Anyway, he got me up late and we had to leave early, so he ended up having to leave and I met up with him a shower and breakfast later. We went to Wal-Mart so that I could get the rest of the stuff that I need in order to move out tomorrow... And I forgot half of the stuff on my list. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;Anyway, we then went to the Music store so that I could get my strings changed on Artemis (my acoustic guitar) and by the time we had finished talking with the owners I was an hour and a half late to C's house to pick him up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;On my way to C's house, I was surprised to find a good portion of the local police squad just chilling on the road. They stopped all of the traffic in front of me and started searching cars. By the time I realized this, I also realized that I was going to be very, very late in picking C up and that I was freaked out. But apparently I'm too cute and innocent to harbor the three robbers who were running around in the nearby woods (yes, that's right, and they were armed as well). I had to drop C off again at night... I felt very unsafe - they only caught one of them... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;Anyway, after that episode, C, R, and I went to Mellow Mushroom and grabbed some food. R apparently has issues finding legal parking spots (there were cops everywhere over there as well), so I went in and got two dollars in quarters so he could use a parking meter. I had to stand on the corner in short shorts waiting for him to pull up. Awkward... After we got in, we had a bit of *significant* conversation and then went to the mall. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;At the mall, I coerced R into going into Victoria's Secret with me because I had a coupon for a free pair of panties and $10 off of a bra (and I mean, really, how can you pass that up?!) while C ditched and went to FYE. It was awkward with C there anyway. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;So we went to check out, and we met a girl named C, who had been having a really great day. We got to hear, in detail, about her really great day, and her great hair, and her new love who had really great hair, and the kids with great hair that they were going to have together. It was epic. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;But yeah. I'm moving out tomorrow. I guess the only really bad thing about new beginnings is that they're always accompanied by endings. Hopefully a lot of these endings won't be permanent. I'm not sure if I'd be able to take that. Especially not with everything that's been going on lately. I've never felt more like Molly Montgumery, and I can now fully appreciate her story. Poor, poor girl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;These regrets are hitting me hard. I should have never tricked myself into believing that it would be the summer of no regrets... all I did was set myself up for disappointment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFF33;"&gt;One Track Mind (When I Think About You) by An Evening With&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-700679299685314401?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/700679299685314401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/one-track-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/700679299685314401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/700679299685314401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/one-track-mind.html' title='One Track Mind'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-1075266251151859266</id><published>2009-08-11T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T18:32:04.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spinning ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;It's so weird how life works sometimes. How little situations lead up to one big epic moment when everything suddenly makes complete and perfect sense. A moment of clarity, an instance when time stops completely and you're left wondering why you had never seen it that way before. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF99FF;"&gt;Spinning by Jack's Mannequin &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-1075266251151859266?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/1075266251151859266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/spinning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1075266251151859266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1075266251151859266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/spinning.html' title='Spinning ...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-2968574796080204186</id><published>2009-08-07T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T20:21:20.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Those Called Icarus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I finally got my own laptop today, very sweet. I'm totally loving being able to just chill in my room and write. It's so... I don't know... less confining than writing at a desk. Plus, I love messing with my webcam... *tee hee*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I've been reflecting a lot today. Actually buying the rest of my stuff for college has got me freaking out on the inside. I mean, I know that I'm ready for it. No question of that. But I don't know. I had so much that I wanted to get accomplished this summer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I wanted to finish my novel, I wanted to find out who I was. I wanted to make memories that I would never, ever forget. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;There's this part of me that wants to feel completely free and reckless and alive... but that little voice that hangs around in the back of my head won't let loose the other part. The result is this constant war between my two selves. I was supposed to become someone else this summer, someone confident and out-going and fun, but instead, I'm who I've always been. Bummer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I've been wanting to change up my writing style lately. All of my stuff is so *cute* and *adorable* but I want to write something that's going to change the world one day. I know that's a lot to strive for... but it's nice to have goals. Even if you can never accomplish them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;I've been listening to a band called The Orphan, The Poet and I'm very impressed with their stuff. I'd like to write something like that one day, maybe. Something that will eventually mean something to someone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#99FF99;"&gt;To Those Called Icarus by The Orphan, The Poet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-2968574796080204186?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/2968574796080204186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/to-those-called-icarus.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2968574796080204186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2968574796080204186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/to-those-called-icarus.html' title='To Those Called Icarus'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-4040229418002795789</id><published>2009-08-02T15:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T15:14:54.748-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*sigh*</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;No creative name for this post. Just annoyance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Mom and I were supposed to go see &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Public Enemies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt; tonight as a Mom-Daughter kind of thing, since we both wanted to go see the movie. I looked up the show times for three different theaters, ones that I knew how to get to, and I told her that she could choose which show we went to go see and where. I also asked her to wake me up if she wanted to go see an early showing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;I woke up at two. She was also asleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;She decided she'd rather watch television and sit around in her pajamas then spend time with me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;I'm not a fan of sitting around and watching television, so I left. She got pissed because we weren't spending time together. This makes no sense at all to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;*sigh* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Two weeks left. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-4040229418002795789?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/4040229418002795789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/sigh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/4040229418002795789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/4040229418002795789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/08/sigh.html' title='*sigh*'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-4660079799654038642</id><published>2009-07-31T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T18:04:58.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anything But Fine...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;He did it again, jerk. And I keep putting myself in this position so that he gets to be a jerk and I get a little bit of heartbreak every time. So what do I do? Do I just delete his phone number like I've done in the past? Try to forget all about him? It doesn't sound like the grown-up thing to do. And it didn't exactly work last time with the other jerk. I guess I'll just keep going along my merry little path and pretend that everything is alright. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;I'm still making the same mistakes. I know I wrote about it last time... but it bothers me that I can't change this. I've listened to every sad, acoustic song that I've got in my iPod. It's not helping. And it hurts :( &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;Life's too complicated. I'm not growing up. I'm going to run away to Never Never Land and chill with the lost boys. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;Anything But Fine by ZOX&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-4660079799654038642?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/4660079799654038642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/anything-but-fine.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/4660079799654038642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/4660079799654038642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/anything-but-fine.html' title='Anything But Fine...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-2420930630214127342</id><published>2009-07-27T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T20:53:40.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Be Continued...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;I make a lot of mistakes. I always have. I don't learn and move on. I learn, forget, do it again, kick myself for doing it again after I had supposedly learned, and then re-learn and start the cycle all over again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;And here I am. At the beginning again. Three years has taught me absolutely nothing. *Sigh* So why would I think that this time, things would be different? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;So in an unrelated note, J. and I had an epic day of hanging out. Most amazing. R, I love you... *tee hee* it was fun :D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;I'm about to have another epic day tomorrow with Babes... hopefully... Supposedly, we're going to go get my new cell phone fixed because I tried to text peeps today and it didn't work. It would figure that the first time I get text, I screw it up :( (that'd be an epic fail, for those of you that don't know). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;I haven't been able to write anything lately... no songs, no stories... not even diary entries. This blog is proving to be unhelpful. Hmmm. Lame. Oh well, it's not like I've got better things to do ;). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;To Be Continued... by Set Your Goals&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-2420930630214127342?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/2420930630214127342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-be-continued.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2420930630214127342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2420930630214127342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-be-continued.html' title='To Be Continued...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-5075433702097433061</id><published>2009-07-20T22:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T23:15:42.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Past Praying For...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;So I've been thinking a lot lately about nothing. I'm not sure how that's possible, but suffice it to say that it is. This post is going to be as scattered as my thoughts, I can assure you of that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;I babysat V. today, I love that girl. K. paid me in advance to take care of her animals next week while she attends her Ex-Husband's wedding (V. is in it and she doesn't want to go alone... what an awkward situation...). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;ANYWAY, she was telling me how to deal with her dog, who is a sixteen year old border collie who is on Death's doorstep. Apparently, if the dear pooch dies, I am to call her to let her know, and Dad will handle it (This isn't strange, since K. is friends with Mom). The funny part of this is that I was telling J. about it since we were talking about animals. He replied that if the dog died in her sleep, he thinks that I should... ahem... put her in a box, wrap it, and send it to someone I don't like. I can totally think of people to do this to, but it'd be so completely wrong. SO wrong. Well, that's J. for you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;I just finished watching &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;A Haunting In Connecticut&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt; for the second time tonight. I can't decide if it freaks me out or inspires me. I do highly recommend it though, it was absolutely incredible. I still have the rhyme stuck in my head. L. was right, it's addictive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;One bright day in the middle of the night/ Two dead boys got up to fight / Back to back they faced one another/ Pulled out their swords and shot each other...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt; It's just the right mix of funny and creepy... But yeah, so I was putting my cup of tea into the sink... I walked into the kitchen (all of the lights were off, of course) and I forgot that all of the lower cabinets were open, since we have a mouse and Jazz (the cat) is too lazy to get off of her bum to catch it. I walk into the kitchen and one of the cabinets brushes my leg... I FREAKED OUT. It was one of those moments where you can feel your heart STOP beating and everything just jumps out at you. Anyway, I felt really foolish afterward and had more tea. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;R. went off to camp the other day. It isn't unusual for him to disappear for weeks at a time away at camps or family vacations... I am a bit miffed right now, though. He called me from Chicago before he boarded his flight home, and I left him a message back, since I didn't have my cell at the time that he called me. He never called me back... and now he's gone for a week. It would have been nice if he would have, you know, let me know that he made it back into the state without being in a plane crash... *sigh*. And since I know that you're reading this right now, Babes... I'm holding a grudge. And you need to get your yearbook. Thank you very much. (note the clipped tones implied with the extensive period use). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;I feel like I'm at the brink of something. I don't know what, though. It's not college... I can tell that it's not... Or maybe I'm just going crazy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;Past Praying For by VersaEmerge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-5075433702097433061?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/5075433702097433061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/past-praying-for.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5075433702097433061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5075433702097433061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/past-praying-for.html' title='Past Praying For...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-3628462995333790902</id><published>2009-07-16T00:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T00:19:10.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Living In America...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;So last night I saw Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince with a very odd collection of friends. It originally began with S and I making plans because I haven't hung out with her since before graduation, despite the fact that she's supposed to be my best friend. We then recruited R (who I had to pick up because he's still grounded - good job, Babes) and I called up I, who brought along J. I've never actually hung out with J, so it was an interesting experience in getting to know her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Anyway, the movie... despite what some die-hard fans will say... was quite enjoyable. I mean, I thought it was brilliant, as far as movies went. I recognize that everything in the book can't be stuffed into the movie without us sitting in the cinema for hours on end.  But yeah, good movie. I recommend it so long as you know how to let little things go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;So S spent the night after the movie. We went to Sheetz with R where we stocked up on coffee and after dropping R off, we stopped by Wal-Mart and got a frozen pizza to cook when we got home. We stayed up until 6am... S decided to set her alarm on her cell phone because she hadn't woken up any later than 11am the whole summer.... Guess who had to wake up? Yeah... Dunno why. Lame. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;We watched &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Some Kind of Wonderful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt; which I can totally relate to (damn it), then we went to the pool and C joined us. After S went home, C and I jammed for a bit. He said that he honestly likes my new song. I'm excited, because I love that song too... :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I got my AP grades back... Very awesome. I got a 5 on my AP United States History exam and a 4 on my AP AB Calculus exam... I did A LOT better than I thought I did. Wow... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Living In America by The Sounds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-3628462995333790902?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/3628462995333790902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/living-in-america.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/3628462995333790902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/3628462995333790902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/living-in-america.html' title='Living In America...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-6176944918980823700</id><published>2009-07-12T22:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T23:14:15.914-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wordless</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;So I had a random bout of writing depression today where I decided that all of my ramblings were worthless and I was going to be in the fast food industry for the rest of my natural existence. Thanks to R and J, this passed by rather quickly. Ha, I found this one thing that I wrote about a certain Jerk... It was just a novelized version of an encounter that I'd had with him. It's weird to look back on that, after all this time has passed and everything has changed. I'm glad things had turned out that way. No regrets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;Anyway, I found out what the problem is concerning my writing. I've been stuck at these two points in this book that I'm writing. I can't believe it's taken me this long to realize what the problem's been. I can't write because I don't know *how* to write about a relationship. I can't write about the relationship because I can't write what I know with that... I just can't. Not that I write what I know for the rest of the stories that I write... But this book has been as close as I can get to what I know, and now I'm stuck. I guess I can wait a little longer, it's taken me two years to get here as is. *Sigh* And I really, really wanted to finish it this summer. Oh well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;I'm re-writing a couple of my songs tonight. I can't sleep, so I might as well make music, right? I might as well do *something.* The songs aren't bad, but they need new music... new rhythms... something different, something unique, something that can be mine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;I'm tired of writing songs for other people. I want to write stuff for me. Songs that I can love no matter what. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;I'm afraid to write anything else up here right now. I've not been to bed before 4 in two weeks. Of course, I also sleep in past noon, but still. I haven't been able to keep my thoughts straight lately. *Sigh* Off to go read Book 5 of the Wheel Of Time... (Don't make fun, it's a good series). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;The Wordless by Cinematic Sunrise &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-6176944918980823700?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/6176944918980823700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/wordless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6176944918980823700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6176944918980823700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/wordless.html' title='The Wordless'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-3411505197481863467</id><published>2009-07-08T19:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T23:16:09.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Therapy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I'd like to think that we all have a purpose. That we all have some major function to perform throughout the course of our lifetime that makes all of our struggles and our frustrations worthwhile. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Right now, the only purpose that it seems that I have is to make things complicated. To plan out everything perfectly, and then screw them up terribly. I build things up to their full potential, and then I completely destroy them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;How do you change that without changing everything? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I thought at one point that I could change things about myself, things that I didn't like. But I know now that I can't. I'll always be this silly little girl with silly daydreams and no concept whatsoever of reality. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Anyway, this was just a random spilling of thoughts so as to clear my head and get me ready for some serious writing-time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therapy by All Time Low&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-3411505197481863467?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/3411505197481863467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/therapy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/3411505197481863467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/3411505197481863467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/therapy.html' title='Therapy...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-5134412449640738724</id><published>2009-07-07T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T22:05:14.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blue Eyes...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;I'd like to think that most of the time, things turn out for the best, right? What if they don't? I promised myself that I'd come out of the summer being able to say that I had no regrets as I went on to college. I wanted to look back on this summer and smile, because I knew that I had done everything that needed to be done. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;So why do I let him get to me? Even when I'm not around him, he's still there, haunting me. Ugh. I wish I could just rip out the part of my brain that thinks about him still. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;R. says that I don't try. But what's the point in trying when the ending isn't happy... when the Prince finds a different Princess and the serving girl is always a serving girl. *Sigh* But why am I dwelling on such things? I should just put all of this behind me, because I'm bigger than this petty daydreaming. I should be more... I'm a writer. I have to find the line between fiction and reality and keep myself from falling too far into dreams of what could be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Anyway, today was most awesome. I. and I went to the music store and we chatted with the guy who worked there. He ended up giving I. a couple of free guitar picks. I love going there. K. wasn't working, which I was kind of bummed about, because I really like chilling with him and talking music. He's never there when I'm there... maybe he's avoiding me? LoL. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Then we went off to lunch at ECW because I. had never been there and I bought because it was her birthday lunch (since I didn't get out of the house in time enough to get her a present). After eating, we went to the Mall, where we wandered about for a good two hours or so, randomly browsing through DvD's and CD's... I held &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Nothing Personal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt; (All Time Low's new CD) in my hand... but I had an iTunes Giftcard waiting for me so I could get the Bonus Track version (which by the way is *incredible*). It was awesome. I don't hang out with I. nearly as much as I should. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;So this week is going to be absolutely insane, but in a good way. I need to have more crazy weeks like this. Less chance of me going crazy in the house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;J. and I played a wicked prank on R. today. We convinced him that we were both crushing on the other and didn't want the other to know about it. You'd think that R. would have gotten it, since J. and I used that *exact* same joke on C. on April Fool's Day... but whatever. ILY Babes :D ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Anyway, I'm exhausted, and I"ve got some Best-Friend-Time coming up tomorrow, so I'd best be super rested. I mean, I am the mean jerk who played pranks on him all night ;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Blue Eyes by Ian Walsh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-5134412449640738724?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/5134412449640738724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/blue-eyes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5134412449640738724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5134412449640738724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/blue-eyes.html' title='Blue Eyes...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-1141637429973988249</id><published>2009-07-05T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T22:46:41.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hope I'm Blind...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;Ah, today was a good, good day. I'm surprised that I've nothing bad to write about... not really. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;R and I talked a lot about the feeling that sometimes arises when you think that all of your friends aren't really your friends, and they're just being nice to you because they don't want to tell you that they can't stand the sight of your face....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;I've been feeling a lot like that lately, but it's just my paranoia setting in again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;Anyways, I broke that feeling up quickly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;I was surprised today. Mom, who is usually a crazy, crazy woman, brought me home a grape Arctic Rush ( I miss the name Misty...) on her way from work. It was super sweet. When I was little, she used to stop by DQ on her way home from work every day and bring me home a Misty. It made me feel like a little kid again. We talked and watched a couple of movies ( which, btw, reminds me to mention that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;Confessions of a Shopaholic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt; was the cutest movie - ever- especially with Hugh Dancy (♥♥♥) ). But yeah, she was really awesome and today was really awesome. Dad was really cool too... Maybe they weren't being nice and they were just messing with my head... Hmmm... *can see this as a possibility* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;So I was talking to R on AIM today, and apparently a friend from London, K, got in touch with him. I haven't talked to her since a few months after I left that amazing, amazing city. I was really surprised. I mean... wow. I'd talked to her sporadically, like when I told her what R's SN was... ( Okay, I'm sorry Babes, no more giving your SN to random strangers that you don't know). Anyway, she's really cool. I miss talking to her. I should start that back up again, it's always cool to have friends in another country, especially the country you're planning on moving to as soon as possible. Haha... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;So I found my black Jersey scarf... I've been missing it since Prom... But I found it! (mutters - with my other scarves...). I'm in love with these things... they're awesome and perfect and fun. Like right now... I'm wearing it in the Hollywood-Movie-Star-Fashion. Later I'll probably be wearing it as a shawl, but whatever. It's fun :D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;I Hope I'm Blind by Ian Walsh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-1141637429973988249?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/1141637429973988249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-hope-im-blind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1141637429973988249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1141637429973988249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-hope-im-blind.html' title='I Hope I&apos;m Blind...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-9195656312869903057</id><published>2009-07-04T21:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T21:49:23.859-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just A Random Comment...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;My dad just asked me why I don't try out e-harmony or something like it since I obviously can't get a boyfriend on my own...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;I'm 18...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;Thanks, Dad ♥ &gt;P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-9195656312869903057?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/9195656312869903057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/just-random-comment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/9195656312869903057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/9195656312869903057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/just-random-comment.html' title='Just A Random Comment...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-5629621923962186361</id><published>2009-07-03T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T22:36:36.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick Little Games...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;So I had one of *those* days today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;I got up early... T was leaving for the beach and I wanted to see him off. He's never been on an extended trip without family there... But he's going with S's family, so I guess that's pretty much the same thing. But Mommy won't be there... HA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Anyway, I was supposed to hang out with a friend (initials are too obvious right now) because he had to cancel going to lunch with me and a few of our friends. He calls me ten minutes before he was supposed to be at my house, saying that he was running late. I was too, so it was okay... And then he calls back ten minutes later and says that "Hey, *Friend* just called me and he's on his way over to my house.... We're going to go grab lunch. Can you meet us?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;I didn't really mind that our plans had changed. I had thought of a really good outfit the night before that I wanted to try out, so I put it on and borrowed the car to drive into town. I love, love, loved the outfit I had on. It was absolutely perfect, and absolutely wasted on today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;... This is where I'd like to say that if *Friend* doesn't want me there, don't invite me. Like, seriously, it doesn't hurt my feelings if you say "Hey, we're going to have some guy time and talk about partying and our plans for next week." Thanks for making it awkward. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;... Anyway, I show up at the designated restaurant (which is way over-priced and I didn't eat there anyway...)  and sat there as they discussed partying and their beach plans. *Friend* made me feel so very uncomfortable. I hate his pointed looks at my friend, basically saying "Why is she here?!" and his mocking tone as he asks me questions he knows the answer to. I had thought that *Friend* and I were friends, but every time we see each other, we end up fighting. No matter what. I can't stand it. Jerk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Anyway, I get home and called L, because I had told her that I couldn't go out tonight, since I had gone to lunch with my friend and *Friend*. So I called her up to say that I would be *happy* to hang out with her, but I couldn't drive, since my dad took the car to work. She never called me back... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;So I was pretty dejected. My dad asked me why I didn't have any plans on a Friday night. I knwo this sounds way to sensitive, but I was so upset about how lunch had turned out and about *Friend's* behavior, that I promptly ran into my room and cried. He then brought me chocolate and apologized. I forgave him... sent back the chocolate. Wrote music for an hour... Watched six hours of television... and listened to the new All Time Low CD for the fiftieth time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;So that's my day. Yay.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Tomorrow will be better... It's not like it can get worse...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Sorry for the rant. I'll have better stuff to write later :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Sick Little Games by All Time Low (new CD &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Nothing Personal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; comes out on July 7th... and is amazing) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-5629621923962186361?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/5629621923962186361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/sick-little-games.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5629621923962186361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5629621923962186361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/07/sick-little-games.html' title='Sick Little Games...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-2616515205480683884</id><published>2009-06-30T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T19:58:05.731-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memory Lane...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;So I had a little trip down Memory Lane today when I was cleaning my room. I went through my little "treasure box" (yeah, I actually have one of those). And not only did I have random fliers and things from my entire High School career, but I also had a bunch of things from Middle School and even a couple of things from Elementary School. I was just so surprised that I had actually kept some of those things... And I'll probably just continue to keep them until I die (since I'm the pack rat that I am). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Anyway... While I was sifting through some of the old notebooks that I kept, certain that I'd find a use for the blank pages instead of throwing them away, I found a couple of "Things To Do Before I Die" lists, and thought I'd put them up here, just for kicks and giggles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;So here goes.... The Things To Do Before I Die List&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;... the accomplished ones are marked with a ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Get a book published&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Write a song that will change someone's life ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Learn how to shoot a bow &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Sky dive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Take a random road trip across the country&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Get into college ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Learn how to drive a stick shift&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Meet someone who inspires me ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Perform on stage ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Get over my stage fright ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Learn how to speak another language&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Visit another country ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Learn how to read music &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Mock the Guards at Buckingham Palace ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;&gt; Have my own library&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;So that's not too bad, right? I'm still working on the others (I'm thinking that sky diving is going to take a very long time to accomplish... knowing me). I'll probably add another billion things to this old list, eventually... when it's not summer and I'm motivated to do something with my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Anyways, I woke up this afternoon at around 2... I found out after I ate breakfast and thought about why I woke so late that the medication I'm on right now causes "extreme drowsiness" ... Thanks for letting me know, guys! Oh... and said medication can also cause depression... ironic much? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Memory Lane by McFly (my fave group of boys everrrrr ♥♥♥)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-2616515205480683884?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/2616515205480683884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/memory-lane.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2616515205480683884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2616515205480683884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/memory-lane.html' title='Memory Lane...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-6360177317622590383</id><published>2009-06-30T00:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T00:22:39.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Enough...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;So it's 3:17 a.m. and I can't sleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;I've just spent the past ... hmmm ... eight hours or so watching the entirety of Scrubs Season Three and I can honestly say that I'm totally disappointed in JD. He used to be my fave... but no... no no no. Maybe that's why I feel so strange right now, IDK. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;I've sat and stared at this computer screen for about half an hour, not really seeing it, but not seeing anything else either. My dad must think I'm totally insane - he's watching TV ... silly computer in the living room. But who cares? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;I'm not quite sure why I'm writing this, but anything seems more preferable than sitting and staring at the book that I'm supposedly writing. It's been staring me in the face for the past week, nothing added, plenty of things deleted. It's making me feel like a complete failure at life. Why can't I make this story work? I've been working on this for over two years now... lame... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;I should not be allowed to write. Nothing good ever comes of it (such as this blog...). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;I wish I were a better guitarist. I have no idea what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;Simple Enough - Nevershoutnever &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-6360177317622590383?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/6360177317622590383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/simple-enough.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6360177317622590383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6360177317622590383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/simple-enough.html' title='Simple Enough...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-2576903988861724476</id><published>2009-06-22T23:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T23:21:59.559-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Find Me Finding Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;I'm working on creating the new me. So far, it hasn't seemed to work. I'm still feeling awkward and out-of-place most of the time, but I'm thinking that maybe that's never going to change. New Me doesn't like this. New Me does like the new self-confidence that seems to be growing, though. L said that this would happen. It feels pretty good, when I'm around people I don't know. But whenever I get near the people that do know me, I revert back to my Old Self. And New Me does not like Old Self. UGH. I'll just have to keep on working.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;So the babysitting set up by mom wasn't as horrific as I know I've been making it sound. I really love V, she's an adorable, well-behaved little girl who can kick C's butt in football (sorry dude, but really - she's eight!). It's really sad, actually. I think he was weathered before she was :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;G is taking me to the petting zoo tomorrow... fun fun :D I've only been to this place once, and that was years ago. It should be awesome (and I don't even have to get up early - yes!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;Find Me Finding Out: Danger Is My Middle Name ( Full album &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;Sink or Swim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt; available for FREE download at www.purevolume.com/dangerismymiddlename )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-2576903988861724476?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/2576903988861724476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/find-me-finding-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2576903988861724476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/2576903988861724476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/find-me-finding-out.html' title='Find Me Finding Out'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-4468186194383760058</id><published>2009-06-21T19:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T19:23:13.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't You Dare</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Alright, Bitch. I'm going to say this one more time... I'M EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD. I can go outside at night and watch the stars if I want to! And I can make my own plans. So thanks for telling me about my babysitting gig the night of the party that I made plans to go to and thanks a ton for telling me after I agreed to pick my friends up. Now my friends are off, and I have to wait until tomorrow to tell them that they need to find other rides.&lt;br /&gt;And thanks oodles for letting me know that you missed me while I was gone by engaging me in a fight an hour after I got home. It's so welcoming. I wonder why I don't like staying and holding in-depth conversations with you. No wonder I can only take your company for ten-minute intervals. UGOSKLDJF:LSIDJFSDKFSDIJFSKDIFS:DIJFS:DILFJS:LDKJF:KLJCVNKDJFOSDIF&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I love you. But please, please realize that I'm eighteen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Don't You Dare: Alexz Johnson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-4468186194383760058?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/4468186194383760058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/dont-you-dare.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/4468186194383760058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/4468186194383760058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/dont-you-dare.html' title='Don&apos;t You Dare'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-5547984676979564101</id><published>2009-06-21T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T14:10:31.859-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Escape</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;I got back from my too-short vacation yesterday. My mom fussed over me for at least half an hour before I decided to ignore her by grabbing dinner and heading to the computer. I can't write about what happened while I was gone yet, because I'm still trying to get all of the days in order before I start spilling on all of the dirt- not that most people don't already know what happened :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and I got into a fight within an hour of me walking through the front door. L had to help me with my luggage because no one else was interested enough to do that. But anyway, C had been talking about taking a beach trip where my other friends would be. I tried to explain this trip to my mom, that it'd be taking place the week before I had to leave for college, and that my circle of friends did not solely consist of the five other girls I went to the beach with this week. I don't understand what in this is so difficult to understand. It seems perfectly reasonable to me. I mean, I'm going to college! I don't want to lose these people! UGH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I locked myself in my room last night, and I took some of my ramblings from the beach balcony and wrote three and a half new songs. They're not too shabby. I'm actually proud of a couple of them. I'll need a bit of help with the lead guitar parts, but nothing that I can't handle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PureVolume has been calling me lately. I have the unstoppable need to find new music and bury myself in guitars, keyboards, beeping whirling noises... you know the drill. I love when artists send me messages asking me to check out their music. They're always so sweet about it too. This one guy just sent me a link and was like "Hey, I hope you're having a super awesome day!" and I was hooked. The fact that his music doesn't suck makes it worth it. Check it out - AHNEST!&lt;br /&gt;http://www.purevolume.com/ahnest&lt;br /&gt;Radio! Radio! is pretty catchy :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ew, so how about N. messaged me today on facebook. He called me "sweetie" and asked about my bikini. He's such a creep. And when I tell him that he's a creep, he thinks that it's funny... So sketch. I hope he doesn't find out that I live down the road from him... I don't think he will... maybe... hmmm... *changes address*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm off to go pack up my stuff and get the HELL out of here before I get a stalker (Just kidding - for the most part ;) ).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Escape by Civalias&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-5547984676979564101?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/5547984676979564101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/no-escape.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5547984676979564101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5547984676979564101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/no-escape.html' title='No Escape'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-1962617213337173127</id><published>2009-06-12T22:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T22:41:28.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kids Undercover</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;It's so weird when you meet someone almost exactly like your other friends. Like, seriously, I went to my college orientation, and my roommate for the night was *exactly* like C., down to the problems that she was having with a teacher - in the *same* subject! How does that even happen?&lt;br /&gt;Someone else that I was talking to reminds me so strongly of another C. I mean... WOW! It kind of creeps me out.... I mean, thinking that there might be someone out there *exactly* like me? It's not a good thought.&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;I'm not liking the whole Not-Going-To-School thing... It's so hard to keep up with everybody. I don't want to lose people until I start college! I never felt like I had so many friends until I tried to keep track of them all. Until now, I've just had to walk down the hall and randomly chat with everyone that I knew... and now I have to talk on the phone all the time and coordinate things through Facebook. It's almost overwhelming.&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Ah, I love music. Like... really. No matter what, there is always some kind of some out there to express exactly what you feel. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Kids Undercover: Hello Hollywood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-1962617213337173127?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/1962617213337173127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/kids-undercover.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1962617213337173127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/1962617213337173127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/kids-undercover.html' title='Kids Undercover'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-515136699552245460</id><published>2009-06-11T19:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T19:37:40.059-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Possibilities</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;I actually have, like, nothing to complain about during this blog. I'm pretty excited about that. So due to sudden inspiration by G. and his random remark about centaurs, I'm going to explore the possibilities that surround us, and the impact of our decisions on the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C. and I were talking today, about what would have happened if she had taken a different path and chosen a different guy years ago. The immense possibilities that opened before us with the simple thought of her dating a different guy... it was crazy. Like... the entire course of our friendship and of ten of my other friendships would have been set way off course. It's strange, how the ripples spread. And now I'm thinking about how every one of the decisions that I make now are going to effect me ten years into the future. Will I change the person that I am? Will I make myself something better, or will I destroy everything I've worked for?&lt;br /&gt;This is such a bad time for me to be thinking about how my actions will change my future. I'm at a huge fork in the road, with hundreds of different paths ahead of me, and it's so hard for me to choose just one. Already I have five different decisions to make, and I'm not sure that I'm going to pick the right one. But it's not like I can see into the future, you know? I can only keep at the pace that I'm going, and I can't turn back and change all of my mistakes anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Which leads me to my next thought... If I *could* go back, would I? I mean, I have so many regrets -too many- but would I change anything if it changed who I was? Probably not... I mean, I've learned a lot from my mistakes, and as great as great as it'd be to erase them from existence... maybe they're necessary...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that's just what's been running through my mind. I'm leaving for the beach on Saturday with my girls and I cannot wait to just chill with no worries. ♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Possibilities - Teddy Geiger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-515136699552245460?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/515136699552245460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/possibilities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/515136699552245460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/515136699552245460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/possibilities.html' title='Possibilities'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-8510506354110207733</id><published>2009-06-06T08:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T08:27:56.904-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beach</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;So I'm on my aunt's computer blogging right now because I have nothing better to do. My mom basically put our computer on lock-down against those who would get on and randomly place viruses on my baby. So yeah. This is it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Graduation was last night. WOW. I have definitely never experienced such a strange and awkward occurrence ever. I mean... just... wow. I hugged people I haven't talked to since Freshman year. A. and I had this huge conversation during the ceremony and I definitely haven't talked to her since sixth grade, when we both had P.E. together. The fact that I remember that scares me, but you know how memory works with a bunch of little pieces. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;I don't feel like I'm really old enough to have walked the stage... I have a diploma now... I still feel like I should be braiding my hair and playing with Barbie dolls, not going off to college to change the world. One thing is for sure though, this is going to be the summer to beat all summers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Mom's having my graduation party today and I can safely say that I am friends with appx. ten people out of the billion that she's invited. Graduation was definitely just an excsue for her to have a party with all of her friends. But I don't mind, because they'll all bring me money. I guess I can write out all of my Thank You Letters Sunday before I leave. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;I'm heading off to college tomorrow for Orientation. Mom wants to chill out Sunday night and then do all the stuff Monday and Tuesday. Apparently we're just going to sit on the beach all day on Weds. and then coming home Thursday. So I get to spend Friday just chillaxing at home and washing all of my beach clothes so I can go down to the other beach with my girls for a week of no parents. *Sigh* I cannot wait for that. After spending that much time alone with my mom, I'm going to need a therapist down there with me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;I am excited though. I've never gotten to take a big trip unsupervised. It'll be interesting to see how crazy everything gets -- though of course with our group it won't be too awfully bad, we're pretty nice girls on the whole. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Life's been such a roller coaster lately. It'll be nice to just take time off and watch the world go by.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;"The Beach" : All Time Low&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-8510506354110207733?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/8510506354110207733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/beach.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8510506354110207733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8510506354110207733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/beach.html' title='The Beach'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-5949101838213609032</id><published>2009-06-03T17:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T17:30:00.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Natural Disaster</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;I love storms. Love, love, love them. They are absolutely amazing. Whenever I hear thunder, everything in me screams for me to write. I don't know what it is, but there's something about a rainstorm that inspires me. Maybe it's the craziness... idk. But it's beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking a lot about the random things that have happened in my life. Like... those completely crazy moments that never leave you. Sometimes that happens to me though. Huge moments in my life occur, and all I can recall from the events is the certain smell of an old lady's perfume or how the dim lighting made everything seem magical and surreal. But ask me to tell you what exactly happened and I'd draw a blank.&lt;br /&gt;It was like that seeing Wicked. I can't remember actual events in the play, but I can remember how it made me feel, and the cold chill of the air conditioner on my skin. After I got back from London and listened to the soundtrack of Wicked, I couldn't even remember if the actors had had British accents or not (I do, however, remember that the guy playing Boq had an Irish accent, because he was a Munchkinlander and therefore was really short... he reminded me of a Leprechaun).&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;So I've been reading this book lately. I've already read it, but I've started it again. It's called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So Yesterday&lt;/span&gt; by Scott Westerfeld. While his books are not the best written, the language he uses entrances me. He introduces old concepts that we're all accustomed to and gives them names. For example, in this specific book, the main concept is about "cool" things and how they became "cool." You know how when you see something that looks pretty awesome,  you kind of tilt your head and appreciate it? He calls this "The Nod," stating it like it's always been this way. He'll say stuff like, "He gave her shoes the Nod, and asked her where she got them." I love that. Some of his other books are like that, too. Idk, I wanted to randomly ramble about his books, because they're so catchy, like a song you can't get out of your head. I find that I've become really entranced by those kinds of books lately.Substance is always appreciated in a novel, but it's nice to just kick back and read shallow stuff that makes you giggle.&lt;br /&gt;Also on the subject of books... I took the United States History End of Course Exam today, and the only reason I got one of the questions right was because the sinking of the USS &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Maine&lt;/span&gt; was addressed in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Luxe Series&lt;/span&gt;, specifically the book &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Envy&lt;/span&gt;. I just thought that was funny :) . That happens to me all the time though. I read something in a fictional story and then can totally relate it back to life. It's exciting.&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;So this blog was supposed to be about destroying my writer's block... Nope. Hasn't happened yet. This sucks. I tried to start writing something today while I was waiting on a few specific kids to finish their Exams (five minutes to End Time... when I finished mine within the first half hour-- two hours beforehand) and it just didn't happen. *Makes sad face* Oh well... maybe it'll just take time... *sigh*...&lt;br /&gt;I hate having to be patient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Natural Disaster: Alexz Johnson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-5949101838213609032?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/5949101838213609032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/natural-disaster.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5949101838213609032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5949101838213609032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/natural-disaster.html' title='Natural Disaster'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-7079406373022233218</id><published>2009-06-01T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T19:52:44.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories That Fade Like Photographs...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;The last day of formal classes in High School... holy cow... And it had to be today, and all of the crap I've been dealing with had to rear its ugly head today of all days. I don't know how I got through school without having a breakdown, because I came so very, very close. I'm so sentimental, it's not even funny. Everything has a meaning for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;I guess it hurts a little, closing one of the major chapters in your life. Then again, maybe that's only because all of the chapters I write have unhappy endings (and I'm not talking about stories here...). I'm just afraid of new beginnings, probably because I'm so bad at them. I'm terrible at letting go of things. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;I'm so tired of all the fighting that's been going on. We finally put away our differences in my Theatre group, and after that drawer was closed, another one pops open and lets out some terrible demons. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;Why can't he just understand? I hate it when we fight, but he just *doesn't get it*. I really don't understand what's so hard about simply keeping things to yourself. He didn't need to tell them, and I'm so afraid that it'll get back to someone else... There's not even a basis of fact there, only speculation, and I know how rumors travel around school. UGH. This isn't something I wanted to have to deal with on my LAST day of High School. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;And I hate us fighting anyway, because I love him soooo much, and he's leaving soon. We shouldn't be like this right now, we should be having as many good times as possible. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;I don't know why I keep listening to these sad songs, playing over and over through my speakers. They do nothing to pull me out of my melancholy. And yet... I can't turn them off, because they're speaking for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;Memories That Fade Like Photographs: All Time Low&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-7079406373022233218?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/7079406373022233218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/memories-that-fade-like-photographs.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7079406373022233218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7079406373022233218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/06/memories-that-fade-like-photographs.html' title='Memories That Fade Like Photographs...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-4907793936354357572</id><published>2009-05-29T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T21:59:13.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What If...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;So the other day, I had to write a paper which was supposed to be a reflection on my life so far. I don't know whether I liked that particular assignment or not. While I loved the freedom I had in writing about my life, I still felt weird about telling Mr. B about my past. I did learn a lot about myself though, and it was sooo very weird. I'm not sure how to describe it.&lt;br /&gt;Like... it was almost like I was just an observer in my life, watching this silly girl with dark hair and darker eyes making the same mistakes again and again. You'd think that somewhere along the way my conscious self would step in and stop that stupid girl from repeating herself. But I just keep standing here, and screaming at myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep thinking about how weird it is to be graduating. I never really thought about myself getting that far in life. I'd always had this weird notion that I wouldn't make it to the ceremony... and now that it is rapidly approaching, I'm not sure what to think. I guess I just have to take everything one day at a time, just keep living for the moment, and savor everything that I know I'm going to miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This random song keeps playing through my head. It's "What If" by School Boy Humor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"What if I died tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;What would you miss me here?&lt;br /&gt;And what if I cried tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;Would you shed your tears?&lt;br /&gt;A story's just been told that hasn't happened yet&lt;br /&gt;Just a tragic foreshadowing&lt;br /&gt;What could happen..." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's not the happiest thing to be stuck in one's head... but this is so relevant to my life right now. Because, really... Everything's about to end, and there's so many unsaid things between everyone, and they'll most likely never be said. So what if these things were said? By everyone? How crazy would everything become?&lt;br /&gt;We had a Web of Love during Theatre the other day, and I have to say, I've never seen a group of people being so honest with each other. We talked about jealousy, love, anger, pettiness... And where many would think that it'd turn us against each other, I think that we really became closer as a family. Not many Theatre families can do that, and I'm so thankful that ours could, because we had a bond that I've never seen before. I love those people so very, very much, and it hurts that it's taken us this long to realize the relationship we've all established, but I'm also looking forward to becoming closer to all of them over the summer, just in time to leave them all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if I were to die tomorrow? What would you all say? Honestly? I hate all of these unsaid things. In the immortal words of one Molly Montgomery, "It sat between us like a lumpy pillow, not harming anything, but getting in the way all the same..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What If..." by School Boy Humor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-4907793936354357572?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/4907793936354357572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-if.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/4907793936354357572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/4907793936354357572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-if.html' title='What If...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-8195879320537366995</id><published>2009-05-25T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T15:20:54.065-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No One Sleeps When I'm Awake...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Yesterday was the last performance of "The Monster Responsible" by my Theatre class. I have to say, it was the best performance we've ever had. I think we were all crying by the end though. On one hand, I'm relieved that it's finally over - because during a show, you're basically living on stress. Stressing over cues, lines, entrances, the little mishaps that always seem to happen (like the traveler breaking during one of the major scenes and the lighting guy leaving his booth to fix it). But it's so very, very sad. I'm never again going to stand on the stage in our Performance Center with those people. Next time my school puts on a production, I'll be in the audience, cheering on the next generation of hopefuls.&lt;br /&gt;I cried all day yesterday during production. I cried when I showed up to put on my make-up. I cried when we held our group prayer to the Theatre Gods. I cried when I sat backstage before my scene, talking about the future with J. I almost told him right then and there what was running through my mind, but that's not his concern. I cried when I went up for the last scene, my candle flame barely holding onto life. I cried presenting K. with flowers. I *didn't* cry while everyone did the Cupid Shuffle after the presentation of flowers. That was a nice little surprise (which I knew nothing about btw...). I did cry when we struck the set, and while I was driving to school to unload the trucks... and on my way home from the school as I was holding Significant Conversation with individuals.&lt;br /&gt;I took the time that we had together for granted. We had our Cast Party at J.'s house, the *perfect* party place, btw, if you ever need to have a get-together... Before we had actually gotten to the Performance Center, we were just a jumble of people, some of us friends, but it almost seemed like we were all in separate cliques, pitted against one another. And then we go through our final run-through, and it just came together like magic. We did it. And we made it incredible. Sure, there were some parts that were rough around the edges, but we had become family - the way a Theatre group should. Our director confessed on that final day that she would have never thought it possible for us to become what we had, but we did it. Our cast party sealed that bond. We can never look back from that day, now. And the pool at K.'s house was absolutely perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was proven just how blessed I was, over this long weekend. Things that I'd been taking for granted were put in jeopardy, and the obstacles were overcome. ♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I'm writing this blog and reflecting back on how crazy this past week has really been, I've got to mention what my crazy mom is doing right now. Graduation Invitations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't see the point in Graduation Invitations. Everyone that is coming to my Graduation has already been invited and are coming. Why I have to send out announcements and invite people that I haven't ever heard of that are somehow distantly related to me is beyond my comprehension. I mean... really?&lt;br /&gt;And I'm supposed to fill these out, right? Not according to Mom, because I "don't do it right" and will probably "F*** it up" or something. UGH. And why do there have to be steps to doing a Grad. Invitation correctly? Why so many pieces of paper? It really doesn't make any sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got back on my PureVolume account. Check me out on there if you want: GuitarGirl57. I'm getting some really awesome music, now. Right now I'm listening to The Sounds. They're Swedish, and awesome. Before This Storm still has its profile up. That amuses me. Good times, very good times... Maybe one day... ♥.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No One Sleeps When I'm Awake: The Sounds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-8195879320537366995?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/8195879320537366995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/no-one-sleeps-when-im-awake.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8195879320537366995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8195879320537366995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/no-one-sleeps-when-im-awake.html' title='No One Sleeps When I&apos;m Awake...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-6131010487291122698</id><published>2009-05-20T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T20:23:37.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can You Hear Me...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;There are certain things that I'd like to say to certain people. I stole this off of R.'s facebook page (thanks dear). So let's get the bashing started...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;1. Okay. I'm not perfect. Live with it. Just because your life didn't take you where you wanted it to does not mean that you have the right to bash all of my hopes and dreams. You made your decisions, so let me make mine. We grew up in different times, you can't expect me to have the same views and opinions as you did when you were my age, and you can't try to make me into something that I don't want to be. I just want to write stories and play music. Maybe I'll be happy without a lot of money. I don't want to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a naval officer (btw, wtf?). So let me be, and stop nagging me ALL THE TIME. It's my senior year, let me make a few decisions, and hey, this is a crazy idea - why not support me in my choices? You know I love you, but sometimes I get the distinct impression that you wish that I had never been born -- do you even have the slightest idea of how that makes me feel? And by the way, when a person is nice enough to bring you home amazing cookies, just say "Thank You" and eat the damn cookies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;2. Sometimes, I almost think that it would have been much easier for me if we had never met last year. Part of me wants to say that it was worth it, just to have gotten to know you, because you really are one of the most amazing people that I've ever met, honestly. But... I don't know, sometimes it feels like you really dislike me. But then you say you're just kidding and you give me that look that makes my breath freeze for a second. But I can't have you anyway, and I just keep leaving myself open for disappointment. I want to tell you so badly how I feel... but I can't destroy what we've built, you know? So yeah, I'll keep silent and I'll keep watching you make the same mistakes. Maybe someday you'll learn... But whatever...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;3. Stop messing with me, okay? One minute you're really into me, the next you're going on and on and on and on and on and on about some random girl that you've hooked up with, or are talking to, or are thinking about... Why? What purpose does this serve? Does it make you feel more like a stud or something, to brag about your latest conquest? Why do you have to brag about it to me? I really don't get it. You know how I feel about you. Maybe it's not as amazing as the way I feel for 2, but still, you could at least aknowledge it. *Sigh* And you're such a drama queen. Get over yourself, already, dear, because I promise you, your life is NOT as bad as you keep whining about!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;4. Sometimes, I honestly don't think I'm good enough to hang out with you. You're so amazing and pure and incredible and... amazing... I just feel like I can't even compare to half of your other friends. I know you say I'm "the best" but really, when I'm around you, I feel totally insecure. You're just so talented and awesome... You're really the best person in my life right now - and I hope that you know that. I love you so very, very, very much, and I really don't know what I'm going to do without you in the fall. I know you say you're replacable, but *I'm* the one that's easily replaced, not you. No one will *ever* be able to fill the spot that you hold in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);"&gt;5. Get over yourself. You're not as great as you think you are - I promise you. I recognize the fact that we've been friends since, like, forever, but that does *not* give you the liberty to treat my other friends like crap, whether you like them or not. She never did anything directly to you, and just because she made a choice in her love life that you didn't agree with *does NOT* mean that you should treat her like dirt. She was willing to fight for your friendship, but you let your opinions come between the two of you. I respect that you're willing to hold strong to your convictions, but just because you hate her boyfriend shouldn't mean that you now hate her, too. I'm really tired of you putting me in the middle of this crap, and honestly, if it comes down to it, I'm most likely to pick her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;6. I still feel awful about what went down between us. It shouldn't have happened like that. I'm surprised we're even able to talk. I guess I'm just too much of a coward to be able to handle things in adult ways. I'm too afraid of getting hurt to let anyone in. Your deserve more than that, and I really hope you find it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;7. Alright, if I'm a coward, then you're even more of one. You went behind our backs, you tried to sabotage us, and you didn't deal with things the way someone in your position should. I appreciate all of the honest concern I think you've felt for my, but don't be nice to my face and then wrong my friends behind my back, 'kay? Because they deserve more than that, and I think you realize that, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;8. I pity you. I pity you so very much. I'm sorry that I'm leaving you behind to deal with all of this craziness, but I know you're strong enough to handle it. You deserve more credit that you get. I know that I joke that you're not the brightest around, but you have a big heart, and I can respect and love that. I know that I don't show it all the time, but I love you, and you're the most amazing sibling a girl can have. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;So that's my rant on the people in my life that I feel needed to be addressed. No offense meant to any party, really, if you can figure out who you are. If I didn't get this out, I knew I was going to explode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can You Hear Me? - Evelyn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-6131010487291122698?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/6131010487291122698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/can-you-hear-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6131010487291122698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6131010487291122698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/can-you-hear-me.html' title='Can You Hear Me...?'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-7299942473214498634</id><published>2009-05-18T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T20:12:08.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stare At The Sun</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;So... Evelyn had their second official gig after the school Talent Show today...&lt;br /&gt;I guess we have a record for bad gigs. 2/2. We're awesome (Or not). And we really wanted to play a benefit two weeks from now, but our drummer has a Jazz Band concert at the EXACT same time... how does this even happen??!!??&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. I know I shouldn't be frustrated... but still...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Theatre Teacher agreed to let me play one of my original songs backstage during our play! I'm psyched about that. Maybe I won't mess it up. It's a really great song, and it totally fits the show. Yay! I love playing my original stuff :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-7299942473214498634?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/7299942473214498634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/stare-at-sun.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7299942473214498634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/7299942473214498634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/stare-at-sun.html' title='Stare At The Sun'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-8170019806065151506</id><published>2009-05-15T20:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T19:33:57.059-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Expectations</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;I can't tell if I'm simply dreading tomorrow, or if I'm looking foward to it. Prom seems like such a *huge* deal, and all of the little things, if not put together in the right order, can destroy it. I completely wrecked my first manicure ever today. It upset me so much that I promptly cried all the way to Wal-Mart, where I met L, K, and E, stopped crying long enough to get my year book, and then began crying all the way home, where I sat out in the garage and cried more. I almost fear that there's something wrong with me, but I think that the realization that this is the END is just hitting me really hard right now.&lt;br /&gt;There are so many things that I want to do, so many places that I want to see... But I'm terrified of losing my friends in exchange for my freedom. I feel like I'm drifting apart from my friends, just because I'm so afraid of them drifting away from me first. When we all went to the nail salon today, I felt so strange. Like... they were part of something more, and I was an observer on the sidelines. That doesn't fully explain it, and I'm not sure if any of the words that I have *can* explain how I felt at that moment, but it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Maybe I'm just going crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still super psyched about the show on Monday. I love the rush that you get from standing on a stage in front of maybe a hundred people? Maybe more, maybe less, it doesn't matter so long as you have an audience. And this time we're actually playing one of our original songs, so people will actually get to take a glimpse of the amazingness that is my song-writing. You know what though? I don't really care if anyone likes my song. It's written about a very important part of my life, that completely changed everything around, and it means a lot to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a solo in Ladies Ensemble today... Well, it's more of a duet, with R. I'm sooo freaking excited. It seems to be a great closer to our senior year of high school, seeing as he's my bestestest best friend and all. And he's got the most amazing voice ever. I think it's cute that we're performing "A Whole New World" and he used to kid about wanting to be Aladdin... (or maybe he wasn't kidding...). Yet again more performance rush. I got to sing a solo in "Only Hope" last quarter. It was awesome - I love Switchfoot... and Mandy Moore... and "A Walk To Remember" in general...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We only have, like, a few more weeks until school ends. I'm graduating... WHAT THE HELL?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Expectations - Belle and Sebastian&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-8170019806065151506?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/8170019806065151506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/expectations.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8170019806065151506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8170019806065151506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/expectations.html' title='Expectations'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-8331309007248215968</id><published>2009-05-13T19:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T19:49:44.619-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't Forget Your Face...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;You know, I love it when my mother doesn't tell me things. Like the fact that three members of my family are apparently in town from Illinois tonight. Thanks, Mom, for giving me the appropriate time, in between rehearsal and band practice, to clean my room (where my Aunt is staying for the duration of their trip). UGH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had band practice today and it wasn't as ah-mazing as yesterday was. It was still fun, but not because of the music. C. came, it was wicked. She and I did slutty dances to Oops! by Britney and several other songs by her. I have so much fun with that. I should be a hooker. LoL (JUST KIDDING). But yeah, C. and I pulled out my acoustic while C., J., J., and T. played catch with a football in the dark (yeah, good luck with that, boys). It was really cool. C. and I don't hang out nearly enough. We'll have to change that.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so crazy-excited about Oscar night on Monday :D Everyone should come out and watch the show!!! We decided to nix our performance of the original Evelyn song "Gravity" and instead, we're playing the first song I've ever seriously written. It's called "Can You Hear Me?"&lt;br /&gt;It'll be kind of strange. I mean, I wrote it about W. a VERY long time ago... (okay, it was last summer... but still...), but it totally expresses everything that I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've been trying to start re-writing this book. I miss writing. I just can't get into it though. It's like... the words just won't come STILL. I know that the first book I ever wrote sucked, but at least it gave me a purpose. uuugh. But maybe one day I'll get back in the swing of this. Maybe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't Forget Your Face : Lindsay Robins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-8331309007248215968?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/8331309007248215968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/cant-forget-your-face.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8331309007248215968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8331309007248215968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/cant-forget-your-face.html' title='Can&apos;t Forget Your Face...'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-6722872258721324063</id><published>2009-05-11T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T15:20:31.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Uuuugh, Mondays... I hate Mondays. They're not as bad as Tuesdays, but they still suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday was Mother's Day (obviously), but seeing as how I was completely and utterly exhausted from sunburn and car-washing Saturday, I slept in until noon. This is not unusual for me, seeing as I would spend most of my day sleeping given the choice.&lt;br /&gt;T. and I got her a card. "Have A Kick-Ass Mother's Day"... When opened, it played "All-Star" by Smashmouth. It's one of those cards that you record yourself on, so all Mom heard when she opened it was:&lt;br /&gt;Me : "Happy Mother's Day Mom! I love you!"&lt;br /&gt;T: "...."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "T. say something..."&lt;br /&gt;T: "... Start it over..."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "T... You *can't* start it over!"&lt;br /&gt;T: "Oh... Happy Mother's Day!"&lt;br /&gt;I swear, he must get it from somewhere. Maybe I took all of the smart genes.&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, continuing with the horrid Mother's Day.&lt;br /&gt;I've been going through a lot of crap lately, and usually I'm pretty good at masking my feelings, but since I'd been home alone all weekend (the 'rents were at the Truck Driving Championship thing...) I'd not been in the habit of schooling my emotions. So mom ends up cornering me sometime in the middle of the afternoon and keeps nagging me about what's wrong. I tell her that I've been depressed lately, thinking that maybe, *finally* I can open up to her about how I feel and what's going on with me. Instead of being understanding and accepting me, she goes on to tell me that she doesn't know what the f*** to do with me anymore, and that if I feel the need to get therapy or any other professional help, she guesses that I can just go without my Senior beach trip and other privileges. ... ... ... So let me get this straight, Mom... If I want professional help, and I feel like I *need* help, I should get punished for it? Gee, thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We began our first rounds of rehearsals in our performance space (since our school's too cheap to build an auditorium, even though it could save us hundreds of dollars every year). They didn't go so well... none of us really knew our lines (well, at least, J. and I didn't). I felt so very incompetent. I've never felt like that before, and it totally sucks. We made plans to three-way call each other tonight ( J., C., and I) to go over lines. Ugghh. I swear. I'm okay with most things, but lines absolutely destroy me.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a really terrible actress. I'm honestly *very* surprised that I've made it this far, considering that the first time I'd ever auditioned for anything I broke down into tears (granted, it made the scene look more real... but still, actual *tears*).&lt;br /&gt;I made a list today during lunch (since I forgot my lunch and had nothing better to do) of all of the feelings that I've been experiencing over the past week or so. Incompetence was right up there with guilt and self-consciousness. I wish I could be happy with the way things are in my life... but I guess I just can't be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep waiting for something to happen... and it just never seems to... Maybe it's time to stop waiting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows: Brand New&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-6722872258721324063?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/6722872258721324063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/quiet-things-that-no-one-ever-knows.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6722872258721324063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/6722872258721324063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/quiet-things-that-no-one-ever-knows.html' title='The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-5362713641421615018</id><published>2009-05-08T21:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T21:51:10.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Falling In Love In A Coffee Shop</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;I'm not exactly sure how I feel today. Like... half of the time I feel like I'm going to absolutely explode but the other half, it's almost like I'm not even here. And it's the really tiny things that get me really depressed, like my dad scrawling "Left" and "RIGT" (yeah, that's how he spelled Right) across the tips of my good Converse. I cried over that... twice. It's so ridiculous. And looking back, I know that it's really stupid for me to cry over such a mundane matter, but I really can't help myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took my last AP test today and might I just say that it kicked my butt. Really. It destroyed me. My essays sounded more like Story-Time-With-Kayla. "Well children, when the first ship set sail from Great Britian to touch base in the New World and the colony of Jamestown was founded..." But I'm fairly sure that passing or failing doesn't really matter to me at this point. I mean, I don't need the scores to get into college (since I've already been accepted), and I really don't need the class to graduate. But anyway, after I took the test, I skipped Calculus class (sorry Mrs. L. I love you!) since we were just doing the same things that we did yesterday. Instead, I went to the Drama Room and chilled with Mrs. S. I love having down time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a wreck right now. I can't believe K. even let me babysit tonight. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a ten year old girl. Everything's so jumbled and awkward and I'm not sure I know how to deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take things with Him. I can't stand Him right now. I've told him this, he's fought with me, we've argued constantly throughout the week... why can't this all just disappear and leave me in peace?&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, if I could make this go away, I would, because I feel like it's tearing me apart every time I think about it. Every time I convince myself that it doesn't matter, he looks at me with those beautiful eyes and tries to confide in me and how the Hell am I supposed to fight that?&lt;br /&gt;But whatever. I only have one more summer to deal with him and how he makes me feel, and then I'll be away at college and might possibly never see him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to C. yesterday and he and I agreed that our band, E., should definitely play at our school's Oscar Night (which is when Seniors receive superlatives such as what I was nominated for: Most Likely to Be A Millionaire). I'm really psyched. We're playing on the bill with N.'s band, and we've got a secret weapon (shhhh!), so we'll see who keeps the bragging rights :D. I'm a little worried, though. C. and J. voted against me on the songs, and we're playing whatever they want to play. I've managed to talk them into keeping my favorite original song though... I love it. It's called "Gravity," and it's so extremely catchy (I hope...).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I realized just how much I missed the 90's. Seriously. I watched, like, six episodes of Kablam! the other day, remembering when I was little. I absolutely loved that show. And Clarissa Explains It All, The Secret World of Alex Mac, All That (with the original cast), The Amanda Show, the Inspector Gadget cartoons, etc... :( I want to be eight again, just because it was such a great time period. *Begins the search for a time machine to take me back...*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falling In Love In A Coffee Shop : Landon Pigg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-5362713641421615018?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/5362713641421615018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/falling-in-love-in-coffee-shop.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5362713641421615018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/5362713641421615018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/falling-in-love-in-coffee-shop.html' title='Falling In Love In A Coffee Shop'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418550919515816097.post-8391445189415641654</id><published>2009-05-07T17:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T18:19:08.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Story To Tell Your Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So my friend R. encouraged me to start this blog as a way to get around my writer's block. We'll see if he's right or not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, I'm just going to jump right in here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My head has been totally spinning all week. Two AP tests (AB Calculus and United States History), multiple in-between tests, performances... Everything is just so overwhelming right now. I'm not really sure how I'm going to keep up. Every time I get a step ahead, it seems like I'm shoved back another two or so. It doesn't help that I've had writer's block and haven't been able to spin off of these feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, today I told him that I was through with it. I'm tired of wasted expectations and let-downs. I'm tired of broken hearts and holding my tongue. He'll never realize how it could have been, but I'll be reminded of that every time I look at him. I told him just how pissed I was, but he didn't take me seriously. And why should he? He's never seen me the way I see him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like every time I fall for someone, it's all for nothing, because I can never be with them. Even the ones I do end up with, it just doesn't work out. Seven weeks... Three weeks... In the end, I just can't be happy. This leads me to wonder if maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I'm just totally crazy and can't be happy with anyone. I don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 'rents are out of town this weekend. I should be being a crazy high-school kid, throwing parties and having oodles of fun, but I can't. I talked to J. about this the other day. He says it's because of my religion (I'm Catholic), because "If you don't repent, you explode... and then you go to Hell" (no offense made to all you devout Catholics out there). I think he may be onto something there, though. I mean, the other day I had this vivid memory of this terrible, terrible weekend that I spent in Illinois (my former home state) where a very embarrassing moment occurred. This horrible thing happened over four years ago, and I'm apparently *still* mortified and guilty. I mean... really? FOUR YEARS AGO. That's crazy. I told myself that, but it didn't really help. This has happened before, too. I have random memories of bad events and I *still* feel bad about them all. Not Healthy. Maybe that's why I have issues letting go of people/events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, C. and I went out to eat and saw W. This wasn't the worst thing that could happen in the world, but it was still really awkward. While we were out to eat, we got stuck in the crazy freak-tornado storm that was happening. Hmmm... tornado + room covered in giant windows = death? It was pretty crazy. I wanted to get a sheep from Goodwill and place it on W.'s car... but C. wouldn't let me (W. is absolutely terrified of sheep.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AP United States History test tomorrow... Wish me luck... *dies a little on the inside*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to start titling all of my posts after song titles, and then putting the song and artist at the end of the post. They're all really catchy, you should check them out :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; Title of Blog : Silence Is A Scary Sound - McFly (written and performed by Dougie Poynter - my favorite bass player of all time... besides J of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; Title of Post: A Story To Tell Your Friends - Every Avenue (they are so awesome in concert)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2418550919515816097-8391445189415641654?l=silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/feeds/8391445189415641654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/story-to-tell-your-friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8391445189415641654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2418550919515816097/posts/default/8391445189415641654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://silence-guitargirl57.blogspot.com/2009/05/story-to-tell-your-friends.html' title='A Story To Tell Your Friends'/><author><name>GuitarGirl57</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05834704923897689468</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/_dAgfhXIBawo/TE44wqN5ItI/AAAAAAAAABU/kNd20QLRNDs/S220/100_5722.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
