tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81534978011527269682024-03-18T20:56:39.080-07:00Dancing On These Changesthe relational difference between states of being.I'm Tracihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142346085500063632noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153497801152726968.post-58831128334581172442011-07-15T11:58:00.000-07:002011-07-15T12:02:30.881-07:00Work.<div class="kk" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0.2em;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">Me:</span></b> Do you think that if I eat right now.....</div></div><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":88" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0.2em; text-align: left;"><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":85" style="margin-bottom: 0.2em; text-align: left;"><div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":83" style="margin-bottom: 0.2em; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span dir="ltr" id=":82"><span dir="ltr" id=":81"> that I will be hungry for popcorn later?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span dir="ltr" id=":82"><span dir="ltr" id=":81"><b>Sarah:</b> Well...we're leaving in two hours. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span dir="ltr" id=":82"><span dir="ltr" id=":81"> So just eat a little. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span dir="ltr" id=":82"><span dir="ltr" id=":81"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><b>Me:</b> </span>Like...eat 1/4 of a hot pocket?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span dir="ltr" id=":82"><span dir="ltr" id=":81"> Maybe just one bite?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span dir="ltr" id=":82"><span dir="ltr" id=":81"><b>Sarah: </b>No. Don't eat any of a hot pocket.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span dir="ltr" id=":82"><span dir="ltr" id=":81"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">Me:</span> </b>Maybe I should just lick it?</span></span></div></div></div></div>I'm Tracihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142346085500063632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153497801152726968.post-8924919588980569232010-04-29T00:14:00.000-07:002010-04-29T00:15:21.410-07:00The Brevity<div style="text-align: center;">The last recent years of my life have passed by like speeding cars. Those speeding cars have picked me up and dropped me off where I am today. Which literally, is sitting on my bed with Oliver burrowed beneath my knees, scared to no end that someone will murder me in my sleep tonight. I should give the paranoia a rest. Unfortunately, that is number 12,000 on my list of things to do. Number 1 is obviously neglecting sleep so that I can write this blog [and prevent my next vacation from being a one-way trip to the morgue]. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Allow me to perform a quick recap of the past few years of my life. 2008 sounds like a fine place to begin. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">January-December 2008 </div><div style="text-align: center;">Thought process: "I bet getting drunk everyday would be a stellar idea. Maybe I should try to engage in the most idiotic activities imaginable and see what happens. Consequences? What are those?."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">January-December 2009: </div><div style="text-align: center;">Thought Process: "Oh my god, am I going to be hungover for the entirety of 2009 in order to make up for 2008? Is this regret I feel? Time to face the consequences you dumb, drunk mess."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">January-April 2010:</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thought Process: "If anyone is deserving of winning the lottery it's probably me. Although, I already won the lottery of love. Having a puppy is basically the same as raising a child."</div>I'm Tracihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142346085500063632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153497801152726968.post-27545432806982804262010-04-27T23:15:00.000-07:002010-04-27T23:20:45.101-07:00The Bravery<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJH4UIFLGf6HsDtUskSoSwoNGY9mSZB85mHuMmCTVYuRtVteEeNAgzXpw5_W4zXahGJwvAhW4qDeH680elIJ4X3Myd91HZCZaxRakN7g0UhcVidg_WyUz8MP51qGX4CCdueGgnh-Q5wk/s1600/Photo_042710_004.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465068952495624258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJH4UIFLGf6HsDtUskSoSwoNGY9mSZB85mHuMmCTVYuRtVteEeNAgzXpw5_W4zXahGJwvAhW4qDeH680elIJ4X3Myd91HZCZaxRakN7g0UhcVidg_WyUz8MP51qGX4CCdueGgnh-Q5wk/s320/Photo_042710_004.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Living in this creepy, creaky, cryptic house alone for the next couple of days. And no, Oliver doesn't count because he has retreated to the only safe spot in the vicinity. </span></div><br /><div></div>I'm Tracihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142346085500063632noreply@blogger.com0