<?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-8317662</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:19:28.006-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakaway Blue Sheep</title><subtitle type='html'>"What the heart has onced owned and had, it shall never lose.""&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;
      ~Henry Ward Beecher</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>194</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-115380508127221507</id><published>2006-07-25T01:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T01:24:41.286-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Saturated Saturday&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a thing to laugh at when I see&lt;br /&gt;love's prospect drowning us in memory&lt;br /&gt;each hour we pine, and recollect the days&lt;br /&gt;of glimmering coves and hidden ivy ways&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our souls grow older, yet they dance around&lt;br /&gt;and flickers between eyes sing without sound&lt;br /&gt;Oh love! That steals all color and all hue&lt;br /&gt;It gives them all a thousand times to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each room is dimmer now than was before&lt;br /&gt;unless your essence luminates its core&lt;br /&gt;A voice once eager now delights in calm&lt;br /&gt;selecting words to fit dear Passion's psalm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So still we wander, backwards to them all&lt;br /&gt;away from earth's reprised chameleon call&lt;br /&gt;into the hallowed caverns, clear and chilled&lt;br /&gt;of moments knowing moment's hope fulfilled&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-115380508127221507?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/115380508127221507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=115380508127221507' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/115380508127221507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/115380508127221507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/07/saturated-saturday-it-is-thing-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114937628783416204</id><published>2006-06-03T19:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-03T19:11:27.846-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Love Song of F. Alfred Prufrock</title><content type='html'>Today I obtained a copy of the Selected Poems of T. S. Eliot, and I am absolutely astounded at the brilliance of his work. It makes me want to hop on the South Shore and go to Chicago at this very moment so I can go sit in that park off of Michigan Avenue and read poetry while the last drops of daylight drip down the mural wall like delectibly warm paint. One of my fondest memories that I should update soon. I must gather some Chicago-loving friends and take a trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will place my hand in his&lt;br /&gt;across the wasted threads of rhyme&lt;br /&gt;and bound about the corners&lt;br /&gt;ever splintered and sublime&lt;br /&gt;we shall sit upon the crest&lt;br /&gt;of an ocean green and flowing&lt;br /&gt;And wonder at our brilliant way&lt;br /&gt;of loving without knowing&lt;br /&gt;When ink no longer holds the thoughts&lt;br /&gt;pressed tight into the pages&lt;br /&gt;The memory of moment's grasp&lt;br /&gt;turns simpletons to sages&lt;br /&gt;And this shall be our paradigm:To live like we are out of time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114937628783416204?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114937628783416204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114937628783416204' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114937628783416204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114937628783416204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/06/love-song-of-f-alfred-prufrock.html' title='The Love Song of F. Alfred Prufrock'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114879027167784882</id><published>2006-05-28T00:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T00:24:31.710-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It won't be the first heart that you break, it won't be the last beautiful girl...</title><content type='html'>Such a good song, Matchbox Twenty rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wellllll, pictures will be coming... later. I'm too busy right now to put them up. Between finishing all my end-of-term projects and totally turning my social world upside-down by accident, I have absolutely no time for pictures. However, I have had time for other things... like reading the Da Vinci Code and Angels and Demons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, Chartier and Tricker and I were talking about the Code last weekend and they convinced me to read it before seeing the movie. It was flipping amazing. I checked it out Sunday night from the library and read from 2am-6am, therefore not sleeping a single minute. But it was completely worth it. Mr. Brown is a very talented writer and the Da Vinci Code is by far my single favorite book in the world. Angels and Demons was excellent as well, but a little too modernized for my liking. The DaVinci Code was more historical even if it was a supposed attack on the Church. It's a brilliant novel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually guessed almost every important part of the Code like a page before it happened, which was extremely entertaining. I also (accidentally) guessed the ending of the book because I forgot to read the epilogue and I was talking to Chartier about it and it turned out the ending was pretty much exactly like what I thought it would be. Awesome. So now I must see the movie! Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have realized that speaking is an art, and I usually utterly destroy this art by talking excessively and about extremely boring topics (both on my blog and in conversation). Note to self: be interesting or shut up. Good philosophy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm... what else? 1 more day of school + finals. Amen, alleluia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and I wrote something, for the first time in a good month I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm captivated and it's new&lt;br /&gt;like nothing that I've seen before&lt;br /&gt;the notes fade like the passing dew&lt;br /&gt;yet we remain on ballroom floor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's logic in our brilliant dance&lt;br /&gt;strategic steps placed just in time&lt;br /&gt;We cannot stop the flow of chance&lt;br /&gt;nor crush the rhythm, meter, rhyme&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O happy charm, O dazzled eyes&lt;br /&gt;today the starcrossed folly dies&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114879027167784882?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114879027167784882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114879027167784882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114879027167784882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114879027167784882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/05/it-wont-be-first-heart-that-you-break.html' title='It won&apos;t be the first heart that you break, it won&apos;t be the last beautiful girl...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114771828924859789</id><published>2006-05-15T14:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T14:38:09.653-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Prom. Prompromprom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best formal dance everrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Took an hour and a half to get all of my hair curled and pinned. Adam walked in right in the middle of it, which was highly amusing and completely random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jacob Staley rocks my world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gretchen's Revenge=awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guitarist for Gretchen's Revenge= :).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bowling with Frashishy= entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking like a princess/faerie/ballerina for a night=priceless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that made absolutely no sense. At all. I'll post some pictures later. Adieu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114771828924859789?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114771828924859789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114771828924859789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114771828924859789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114771828924859789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/05/prom.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114740573920167619</id><published>2006-05-11T23:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-11T23:48:59.236-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I've never received training in jet-skiing.... I think I might take it up!</title><content type='html'>Well, I suppose I should offer some form of an update, being that there is much to be said. However, I'm tired and I need to quit procrastinating. So I'll just Copy and Paste from my other blog and add to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This weekend, I went to the last FOP of the Steubie school year. It was amaaaazing. When I was told by my friend Justin that it was an open invitation and that we just had to figure out transportation, things weren't looking to good for me. I don't drive and the only one of my friends whose car could handle the 14 or so hours on the road was picking up his girlfriend on the other side of town and wouldn't be able to backtrack to take more people. So I just prayed that whoever needed to go would be able to go, and a miracle totally happened. My friend Aaron's girlfriend decided to go with her mom and meet us there, so Aaron, Justin (Aaron's brother and one of my good friends), and I went together. This, without any further explanation, is the most uncanny group ever assembled. Really. It was absolutely ridiculously awesome. And we went to the Port for over an hour right before Mass. And I was in massive amounts of pain but it didn't matter at all because I was there with the 3 friends who I love most, praising the God that I love more than anything. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend is prom. Yay. Still haven't gotten shoes, garter, flower dealie, etc. Fun stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pidgeon-holed God today and told Him that if He could just get me through the year without failing anything, I would do the whole nun-thing if that's what He wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, by the way, I might not go to Steubie or St. Francis or Loyola. I might go to Aquinas College in Nashville... because I'm discerning going into the Dominican Sisters of Nashville after I graduate. Long way off obviously, but I just thought I'd mention it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've laughed more today than I've ever laughed in my life (with the exception of sitting in the parking lot of the Super 8 Motel at Steubie with Elena, Aaron, and Justin.) while watching Comedy Central with some friends. If you haven't heard of Lewis Black, holy crap, find him. My face still hurts. I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soooo, yeah. Back to paper. Woohoo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114740573920167619?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114740573920167619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114740573920167619' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114740573920167619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114740573920167619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/05/ive-never-received-training-in-jet.html' title='I&apos;ve never received training in jet-skiing.... I think I might take it up!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114662851321677176</id><published>2006-05-02T23:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T23:55:13.230-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanderlust and St. Cecilia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/wanderlust.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/200/wanderlust.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the first time in my life, my heart is free of and unconcerned with human affection, and it is a truly wonderful feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the Antioch Retreat rocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want to be a photojournalist... amongst a million other things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114662851321677176?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114662851321677176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114662851321677176' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114662851321677176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114662851321677176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/05/wanderlust-and-st-cecilia.html' title='Wanderlust and St. Cecilia'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114592903003969849</id><published>2006-04-24T21:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T21:37:10.050-04:00</updated><title type='text'>THE BLOGS ARE DEAD.</title><content type='html'>Dead, I tell you. Dead as a very very dead thing. I would say a doornail, but I don't really know what a doornail is. However, I'm pretty sure it was never alive to begin with, so it can't be very dead. So... dead as a piece of roadkill left on the road for 8 days. Yes, eight. Not seven, not nine, eight. Or dead as a 10-point man in the middle of mishawaka and ironwood covered in a fur coat waiting to be dragged away after a 15-point confession. HA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114592903003969849?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114592903003969849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114592903003969849' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114592903003969849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114592903003969849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/04/blogs-are-dead.html' title='THE BLOGS ARE DEAD.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114443311345610144</id><published>2006-04-07T13:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-07T14:05:13.473-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus Loves Me, This I Know...</title><content type='html'>...for when I pray to St. Anthony begging for help in finding my Rosary and am on the verge of giving up all hope, it turns up in the most random of places and is completely unharmed by cars, torrential rains, and small animals... so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, Jesus is pretty flipping awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael's birthday= April 16. (What do you want, by the way?)&lt;br /&gt;My birthday= May 9.&lt;br /&gt;Prom= May 14.&lt;br /&gt;Jacob Staley= Prom date.&lt;br /&gt;Our theme= Mafia. Black and white. Pinstripe. Fedora. So cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm, what else? Oh yeah, I am the creator of the Hopelessly Stupid (But Really Fun) Scavenger Hunt and I love people. That is all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adieu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114443311345610144?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114443311345610144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114443311345610144' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114443311345610144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114443311345610144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/04/jesus-loves-me-this-i-know.html' title='Jesus Loves Me, This I Know...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114417388825364086</id><published>2006-04-04T13:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T14:05:11.373-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I wasted 8 minutes thinking of a title and all I could come up with was this.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font&gt;Well well well, back to the trusty old Blogger. I really don't have much to say except life is sweet, text messaging is taking over my life, and I am absolutely frisbee retarded. Considering I finally learned how to properly throw one about a year ago, it's not surprising. But Matt and Marcus, have seen to it that my ever-growing list of experiences does not remain as small as it is now. So they kidnapped me after daily Mass and we all went out to Rum Village and played Frisbee Golf (???) for like an hour. I would just like to point out that it is much harder than it looks and insanely more difficult than it sounds. I got flying-tackled by Marcus in Korean Freeze Tag the night before, so running up and down those hills was not exactly a wise thing. Needless to say, I slept till 1 this afternoon. I really should do something about this constantly-being-ill thing. *shrugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still haven't found the Rosary. Contemplating throwing myself off a bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My, I am in an odd mood. I was talking to Aaron the other night about human nature, and it was funny because I realized that when the 20 of us were playing tag, it was how man is supposed to live. Running around in a muddy park, feet bare, not concerned about time or money or any of the things of this world. As cheesy as it sounds, it was liberating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TODAY IS THE DAY! I almost forgot to mention what today is............. Narnia! Aaron's wonderfully amazingly brilliant mom found out that the movie was coming out today, preordered a copy, and is going to pick it up this morning! Then she had the single coolest idea ever- a bunch of us are going to go to daily Mass, then back to Aaron's house to say a Rosary for the intention that all who watch the Chronicles might have instilled in them a deeper desire for Heaven. Then, we're going to watch the movie- complete with several varieties of tea (he and I are tea crazy), an abundance of crumpets, and some sardines! I'm totally dressing for the occassion. Yes, we're out of our minds. It's okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I suppose this rambling post has gone on long enough, so I'll end with a fragment of the song I'm writing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My soul magnifies the Lord&lt;br /&gt;and my spirit rejoices in Him&lt;br /&gt;for He has seen His smallest of servants&lt;br /&gt;and has given me favor in His eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the handmaid of the Lord&lt;br /&gt;and everything you say&lt;br /&gt;will be done for His glory&lt;br /&gt;Every breath of me sings His praise&lt;br /&gt;for all of time- &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Magnificat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;All ages will call me blessed&lt;br /&gt;For the God who is mighty has done great things for me&lt;br /&gt;His mercy is on those who fear Him;&lt;br /&gt;the hungry will eat and the blind will see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the handmaid of the Lord&lt;br /&gt;and everything you say&lt;br /&gt;will be done for His glory&lt;br /&gt;Every breath of me sings His praise&lt;br /&gt;for all of time- &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Magnificat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Yes, it's basically the Magnificat, but the actual music is what makes it fun. I wish I had a recording studio, LOL. Anyway, God bless y'all! A.M.D.G&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;nirE&lt;/strike&gt; (somehow, it just doesn't work...)&lt;br /&gt;Erin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114417388825364086?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114417388825364086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114417388825364086' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114417388825364086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114417388825364086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-wasted-8-minutes-thinking-of-title.html' title='I wasted 8 minutes thinking of a title and all I could come up with was this.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114271455967334959</id><published>2006-03-18T15:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-18T15:42:39.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it dead yet?</title><content type='html'>Boondock Saints... oh man. I'm in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, about this whole 'life' thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Carl just showed me a book that he illustrated. It's called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Inherit the Land- Jim Crow Meets Miss Maggie's Will &lt;/span&gt;and it's a history nonfiction that looks incredibly intriguing. Carl is one lucky guy. He's already done many things I wish to do in my life. Granted, he is 10 years older than me, but still... He lives in Chicago, he's a freelance artist, and has his name on the cover of a book, to name a few things (not to mention he's from an incredibly cool Italian family and is the brother of one of my equally cool Trinity friends).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Chicago, I should be there right now. But I'm not! Sad day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amble down the avenue&lt;br /&gt;without a roadmap or a care&lt;br /&gt;the shutter flies as fast as lives&lt;br /&gt;will criss-cross here and there&lt;br /&gt;under, over, everywhere&lt;br /&gt;compelled to stop and stare&lt;br /&gt;At color, bright and brilliant hue&lt;br /&gt;Can't think to give a name&lt;br /&gt;but something calls as twilight falls&lt;br /&gt;-No two corners are the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114271455967334959?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114271455967334959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114271455967334959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114271455967334959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114271455967334959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/03/is-it-dead-yet.html' title='Is it dead yet?'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114240050760423125</id><published>2006-03-15T00:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T00:28:27.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was beautiful. It was wonderful to get out of the house and be outside and active (a bit). I wasn't in as much pain as usual by the end of school, so a bunch of us went to this bargain store and bought airsoft guns and then headed over to Salvation Army and I got a dress for $30 that I am TOTALLY wearing to prom. Oye, it's going to be a blast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the air was good for me, but I'll find out tomorrow. Usually it takes about 12 hours for the exhaustion and pain to catch up with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and the 4 failing classes, as it turns out, are going to be supereasy to fix. Woohoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired and I hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I smell like hawaiian ginger. Yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, Satan is a tricky fellow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114240050760423125?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114240050760423125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114240050760423125' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114240050760423125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114240050760423125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/03/today-was-beautiful.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114222443505311276</id><published>2006-03-12T23:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T01:48:52.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And since nobody reads my blog anymore...</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at all those people&lt;br /&gt;they've got somewhere to go&lt;br /&gt;sit back and taste your tears 'cause you can't let it show&lt;br /&gt;I saw you speaking to the moon&lt;br /&gt;praying for some magic word&lt;br /&gt;but the engine's ticking heartbeat&lt;br /&gt;was the only thing you heard&lt;br /&gt;But don't shed a tear&lt;br /&gt;I will come when the lights go down&lt;br /&gt;I can feel you there, a million miles away&lt;br /&gt;and I say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will all fall away&lt;br /&gt;it will all fall away&lt;br /&gt;when horizons turn to shades of yesterday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello there, stranger&lt;br /&gt;Can you teach me something new?&lt;br /&gt;I'm smelling spring, seeing eternity, and thinking of you&lt;br /&gt;Shampoo bottle's got news for me&lt;br /&gt;an everyday cleansing is what I need&lt;br /&gt;but when I look to the atmosphere I feel I could...&lt;br /&gt;suffocate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but it will all fall away&lt;br /&gt;it will all fall away&lt;br /&gt;and horizons will turn to shades of yesterday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow this simple hope is more than emotion&lt;br /&gt;it's who I am, who I've become&lt;br /&gt;shining like the sea&lt;br /&gt;it's a drop in the ocean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it will all fall away&lt;br /&gt;it will all fall away&lt;br /&gt;when horizons turn to shades of yesterday&lt;br /&gt;Here, it all falls away&lt;br /&gt;yeah it all falls away&lt;br /&gt;and I thank the Lord for all those yesterdays&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a song. I happen to like it a lot, it turned out well. It is, however, titleless, so any ideas are welcome. Oh wait, nobody reads this. Right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, thus far I'm somehow failing math, history, Junior Comp (because we have a whopping two grades in the gradebook) and HTML. I just can't focus in class and I have no energy to do homework because I am literally always sick. This weekend I actually went out with friends and babysat for Chip &amp;amp; Virginia for 7 hours. And I am still failing. And the quarter ends on Friday. Neither of which were the wisest of decisions. You want to know something even grander? I don't really care. Maybe I'll drop out and become a nun. Oh, how I would love that. So, so much. I'd have to drop out after prom though... hmmm... No. Actually, I'm considering homeschooling. Not very seriously, but it's a possibility if things go on as they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaron is going to be in Medugorje from Tuesday to Wednesday the 22nd. He also is most likely leaving for Intercessors of the Lamb on April 7th. Please pray for him, his safety, and his discernment!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114222443505311276?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114222443505311276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114222443505311276' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114222443505311276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114222443505311276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/03/and-since-nobody-reads-my-blog-anymore.html' title='And since nobody reads my blog anymore...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114213724737849812</id><published>2006-03-11T22:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-11T23:26:36.330-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All I have to say on this beautiful, glorious day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;&lt;/pre&gt; &lt;blockquote&gt;   &lt;pre&gt;Strangely out of place, and there's a light &lt;br /&gt;filling this room where none would follow before.&lt;br /&gt;I can't deny it burns me up inside.&lt;br /&gt;I fan the flames to melt away my pride.&lt;br /&gt;Do I want shelter from the rain &lt;br /&gt;or the rain to wash me away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need you, I need you, I need you.&lt;br /&gt;I need you, I need you, I need you.&lt;br /&gt;You're all I'm living for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might sound like a fool, but I think &lt;br /&gt;I felt you moving closer to me.&lt;br /&gt;Face to the ground to hide the fatal cut.&lt;br /&gt;I fight the weight, I feel you lift me up.&lt;br /&gt;You are the shelter from the rain &lt;br /&gt;and the rain to wash me away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;   &lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;-Jars of Clay&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My soul is on fire with a radiant, passionate love. Finally.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114213724737849812?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114213724737849812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114213724737849812' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114213724737849812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114213724737849812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/03/all-i-have-to-say-on-this-beautiful.html' title='All I have to say on this beautiful, glorious day.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114168142441343106</id><published>2006-03-06T16:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-06T16:43:44.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have the echocardiogram tomorrow. I'm afraid that something is wrong with my heart, but I'm almost more afraid that nothing is wrong with it. My family thinks my sickness is an act to account for not doing schoolwork or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what's worse, being in so much pain, or knowing that the people closest to me don't believe it exists.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114168142441343106?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114168142441343106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114168142441343106' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114168142441343106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114168142441343106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-have-echocardiogram-tomorrow.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114144409512153011</id><published>2006-03-03T22:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-03T22:48:15.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Learn to walk on your hands!</title><content type='html'>...Then you can use your legs for important stuff, like giving high-fives, eating sandwiches...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I just thought I'd update on my 'condition' (Ick, I don't like that word! Makes me sound like a cancer patient or something. Hmph!). The doctor called me back yesterday and said he thought there might be a problem with my heart which could be causing my illness. Thus, I need to have an echocardiogram and several other tests done very soon. This was much-appreciated but highly nervewracking news, as I've seen what heart conditions have done to several members of my family. I also got the blood test results back today. I am normal in almost all levels (there were 30 or so results). However, I am fairly low in lymphocytes (which explains the leukemia symptoms) and some other things. No big deal. However, the possibility of a heart problem is becoming more and more likely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Last night I was sitting at my computer and I suddenly had a tightening in my chest, just below my rib cage. It felt as though someone had tied a rope around me and it was extremely painful. I thought my lungs were going to collapse or burst, and it really scared me. The whole ordeal only lasted about 5 minutes, but it seemed a lot longer because I had no idea what was going on as the sensation was completely foreign to me. Today, I had to call my grandpa from school to ask him to bring me Tylenol 3, because the shooting pain through my entire left side (lower arm, hand, leg) and the painful tingling had returned and I didn't think acetominophen would cover it. The symptoms remain on both sides of my body, but today they were especially prevalent on the left side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please pray that whatever is wrong with me does not grow worse and that the tests go well. I appreciate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Erin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114144409512153011?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114144409512153011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114144409512153011' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114144409512153011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114144409512153011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/03/learn-to-walk-on-your-hands.html' title='Learn to walk on your hands!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114126505266221310</id><published>2006-03-01T19:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T21:14:22.946-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sad day.</title><content type='html'>Alright, if I've learned one thing from Miss Long this semester it's make things interesting, so I may be erring in this post but I really just need to get it out somewhere. I don't need comments or feedback or pity or anything, but I need to write it down. That's what this blog is for, anyway, right? Right. So onward I trudge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 4-5 months ago I started having sporadic headaches. The school nurse attributed them to stress and I went about my days as usual. Then, other symptoms appeared and became more frequent and severe. Now, I have a literally constant tension headache that goes from behind my eyes to my neck and the base of my spine. I am always freezing (even in my 73 degree house wrapped up in two fleece blankets), unless of course I am suddenly overheated for no reason. I have constant shooting pains throughout most of my body. They began in the left side of my pelvis, my right shoulder, my shins, and my heart, and are now anywhere and everywhere at any given moment. I basically feel like I have several broken bones at one time, or like someone has wrapped a wire around my limbs and pulled tightly enough to cut off circulation. In addition to that, I have had random painful falling-asleep sensations in my hands and feet that I can't explain. I am constantly fatigued and don't have enough energy to do most things during the day, even after sleeping 15 hours in one night. I feel faint and weak simply standing in the hallway, as though I am going to collapse. I don't have a fever, rather my temperature has been a degree or so below normal. Yesterday, I vomited for no apparent reason, though I hadn't had any food and was simply overexerting myself (walking up the stairs too quickly).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally went to the doctor on Monday, which gave me great hope that I'd finally receive a diagnosis and some medication. Unfortunately, the office was quite busy, and as a result my doctor said 'get more sleep, you're probably just overworked' and sent me to the lab for blood tests. This alone was quite frustrating because I get rather decent amounts of sleep and I don't think that could account for pain and discomfort and illness of this magnitude. So I waited, and waited, and finally today I got home to horrible news: according to the blood tests I am perfectly fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, to many of you, that is cause for rejoicing and quite a relief. And yes, to a certain extent, I'm glad that it's not as bad as it could have been. But I don't think anyone understands how frustrating and heartbreaking it is to be in constant pain and be supposedly completely fine. My fourteen-year-old brother said 'It sounds like you want it to be serious,' and you know what? I'd rather have something serious than have nothing at all. I know I should be thankful for my theoretical health, but it is so hard to have white-hot pain searing through my joints and a headache that could make my head split, knowing that there's nothing I can do about it. I wish, for once, I could have an answer. But no. When my teachers ask why I look like a ghost and why I can't focus in class, and my friends ask why I can't go visit Steubie and why I'm not my normal danc-y sing-y self, and when people ask why I can't stand through an entire Mass and why I'm always holding my wrists, I CAN'T ANSWER THEM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It breaks my heart, it really does. I'm not a hypochondriac, I'm not faking it, and I don't think virii last 4 months and give you these kind of symptoms. I just wish I knew what it was. I wish anyone knew what it was. I wish I could do something about it. Jesus, help me, please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114126505266221310?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114126505266221310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114126505266221310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114126505266221310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114126505266221310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/03/sad-day.html' title='Sad day.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114067129878725794</id><published>2006-02-22T23:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T00:08:18.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just A Bout of Silliness, Really...</title><content type='html'>Is it such a folly to want my innocence back? I know I went on about this quite awhile ago, but again the desire penetrates my heart with a surging importance. It seems that in this world, children grow up depraved of childhood, starved of the only thing they should be fed. Michael touched on this in his remarkably eloquent &lt;a href="http://nakedants.blogspot.com/2006/01/wanderingly-museful.html"&gt; blog post&lt;/a&gt;, sharing a waxing poetic perspective of that which has haunted man for generations. The brilliant novelty of a dream or the spark of imagination has been struck down by the bane of reality.  "Now," Michael remarks,  "we have chemical reactions and particle waves and so many different ways to say 'I don't believe.'" Our parents taught us to be sensible, so we stopped believing in the abstract. It is a phenomenon that I can hardly stand to think of, yet myself bear witness to every day of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a child, I was forced by mere circumstance to bring my head down out of the clouds, to face the grotesque image of society and its terrors. But now I see why there is so much truth to the fact that the magic is always in the beginning and the end; An innocent heaven is found in the clouds, and we should keep every shred of it that we can. Bliss -not carnal pleasure or the thrill of wealth- lies amidst the vapors of innocence. It does not come in a mass-produced plastic case with an apple printed neatly on the side; it is not found for sale with bids starting at $125. It is thin and untraceable save for the fact that it brings incredible freedom, and it can only be found in those clouds so far up high- where all sensible earthly oxygen is abandoned and the face of gravity has long been faded. It is now that I realize the terrible fall that man makes when he tumbles from the peak of childhood, and must begin again from a trench. It is also why I will teach my children to make the beginning last forever and the end worthwhile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114067129878725794?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114067129878725794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114067129878725794' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114067129878725794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114067129878725794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/02/just-bout-of-silliness-really.html' title='Just A Bout of Silliness, Really...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-114049630001735827</id><published>2006-02-20T23:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T23:31:40.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Opium, Werewolf, and Too Many Fishsticks.</title><content type='html'>Ta da, new layout for the blog I rarely update anymore. Whee. Photoshop and CSS are beautiful things. Anyway, I'm off to do something highly entertaining. Right-o.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are pearls, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-114049630001735827?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/114049630001735827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=114049630001735827' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114049630001735827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/114049630001735827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/02/opium-werewolf-and-too-many-fishsticks.html' title='Opium, Werewolf, and Too Many Fishsticks.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113832171003219272</id><published>2006-01-26T19:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-26T19:28:30.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fly Me To The Moon...</title><content type='html'>Today keeps getting better and better.&lt;br /&gt;And better.&lt;br /&gt;And better.&lt;br /&gt;And better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Panera with the grande-parentals, and ate one of those breadbowls filled with soup. It was yummy. Way yummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then proceeded to the new Petsmart, where I found out Jaques and Caitlin both work. Small world, no doubt! So I talked to Caitlin and it turns out that the hours there are PERFECT so I might be able to start work during school instead of waiting till the summer. YAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, a miracle happened...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I DROVE TODAY! Yes, that's right. I, Erin Hall, Princess of Born-Under-A-Rock-Ville, drove a car. In a cemetery. For almost an hour. It was amazing. I didn't run over any tombstones, or even get close. I did it! I did it! *dances with joy*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN pretty much the coolest thing ever happened, I came home and was talking on the phone with my mom and almost hung up on her because I saw that Giacomo had IM'd me while I was gone. Fabbyfabfabulous and a half! I thought he was an incredibly cool guy and all, but I never thought we'd actually ever talk again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN I found out that we'll get to see each other again this February (along with many other cool Italiano and American peeps) in Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, it'll be uber expensive to do so, but such is life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN I ran out of things to be excited about. So I ate a Twizzler. That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113832171003219272?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113832171003219272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113832171003219272' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113832171003219272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113832171003219272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/01/fly-me-to-moon.html' title='Fly Me To The Moon...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113825160980669100</id><published>2006-01-25T23:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-26T00:00:09.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>With all the clocks counting down to love....</title><content type='html'>I've been missing things lately- times, faces, seasons...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't explain the nostalgia, but it haunts me at night, and I don't like it at all. I miss my childhood, the way my mom was before she got sick, my freshman year, my first kiss, my sophomore year, my many other 'firsts'...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... blah, too much icky-ness. Poems. The first one I wrote tonight, the second a month or two ago, and the third a few days ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Corridor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The shattered panes&lt;br /&gt; touch scattered pains&lt;br /&gt; and I&lt;br /&gt; cannot forever lie&lt;br /&gt; amidst this tearing, heaving sigh&lt;br /&gt; Just waiting to inhale&lt;br /&gt; all the world around&lt;br /&gt; is stale&lt;br /&gt; And I am left&lt;br /&gt; the same as always&lt;br /&gt; closing doors&lt;br /&gt; in hopeful hallways&lt;br /&gt; I crumple&lt;br /&gt; and cry at the walls as I roam-&lt;br /&gt; Can I please, at last, come home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;D.O.A.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Times grow bleak&lt;br /&gt; and weaker with&lt;br /&gt; the words we tend to&lt;br /&gt; pass off as old.&lt;br /&gt; It is I&lt;br /&gt; who is the fool, now&lt;br /&gt; with every glance.&lt;br /&gt; I take a hidden breath,&lt;br /&gt; wary that you may&lt;br /&gt; mistake me for&lt;br /&gt; alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Travellers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We embraced with a melody&lt;br /&gt; loud, original&lt;br /&gt; As we were wandering&lt;br /&gt; away from home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We parted with a hesitancy&lt;br /&gt; quick, hopeful&lt;br /&gt; as we were struggling&lt;br /&gt; against the flow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Somber, we are -ultimately-&lt;br /&gt; nothing at all&lt;br /&gt; Enthralled, we are -forever-&lt;br /&gt; 'uno,&lt;br /&gt; lo stesso'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to critique...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113825160980669100?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113825160980669100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113825160980669100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113825160980669100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113825160980669100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/01/with-all-clocks-counting-down-to-love.html' title='With all the clocks counting down to love....'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113765110271090502</id><published>2006-01-18T23:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T01:11:42.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Perceiving An Unreal Reality</title><content type='html'>Why is reality so very glum? No matter where we turn in today's society, it seems as though we are trapped in a black-and-white version of something that should be technicolor. The hassle known as daily life is full of disheartening stories and dull routines that leave us pining for the care-free days of our youth. As we grow older, we reach a point where childhood feels an inch away, and we revert back to an infantile peace. When we allow ourselves to perceive magic in the world, we are free to dream, hope, wish, and believe in reality as it is intended to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a child of seven years old, thriving upon the possibilities of a fascinating world. My expectations are great because my explorations are so very small, and I delight in expanding my horizons footstep by tiny footstep. I see playgrounds as kingdoms to be conquered, family dogs as noble steeds yet to be trained. And when the grown-ups tell me to come inside, my adventure is not abandoned at the threshold because to me there is no difference between that which is hoped for and that which is real. Life is a realm of intruiging enchantment when you are a child like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No longer in a juvenile state, I have been disillusioned by the twenty-five years I have lived. I recognized the folly of my puerile thoughts long ago, and have since been enlightened by the wisdom of maturity. I live in a new world now, a world of war, politics, scientific method, and tax deductibles. Surely, this is the reality that the grown-ups of my childhood knew. It is much more sensible, logical, provable;  yet nostalgia taunts me with recollections of 'the good old days.' Life is a paradox, a complex equation, when you are an adult like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twenty-five seems so far off, now that I have aged to sixty and seen magic first-hand. I laugh when I recall just how wise I thought I was, sealed off in my sterile bubble of modern scepticism. Now, I wish I'd kept those child-like eyes. Magic, just as I had suspected, is manifest in everything. I see it in my granddaughter's smile, in the changing of seasons that sing of my end, and between the pages of my journals. The grown-ups are gone, but they learned a lesson just as I did. Life is a quick moment of magic, when you are an old woman like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is only in the beginning and the end that we understand reality, when we allow ourselves to dream, hope, wish, and believe in its magic. We cannot grow older or younger on a whim, but we can keep in our hearts the knowledge that the world is not what it seems. We may be discouraged and bored by what surrounds us, but perhaps there is a reason. The more we seek sensible answers to fill in black-and-white blanks, the less of this colorful world we will be able to understand. For reality is far from the dispirited haze it is believed to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113765110271090502?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113765110271090502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113765110271090502' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113765110271090502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113765110271090502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/01/perceiving-unreal-reality.html' title='Perceiving An Unreal Reality'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113747708814580047</id><published>2006-01-17T00:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T20:09:25.110-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We Like To Move It Move It...</title><content type='html'>I believe last night was the possibly the best formal dance ever! Except it wasn't at Palais. And I went stag. But I had an amazing time and didn't have to worry about any romantic rubbish that always seems to surface around this time. Yay! I'm still debating on whether or not semiformal was as much fun as the 24 hours following it, because MCQ, Emmy, Claire, Buns, and Kyle just totally rock my face off! I believe Windingbrook is my new home... or I certainly wish it was! We are so odd, I love them. Anyway, although I'm sure none of you are particularly interested, I'll be putting the pictures I took online sometime soon. I'll probably also make a long and meaningful post. I can feel it coming! Until then:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/jacob.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/jacob.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Jacob Staley et moi. Shhhh... Don't tell him, but I'm definitely asking him to prom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/Semiformal%20057.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/Semiformal%20057.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The feet, the feet!! (I still don't like 'em)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/Semiformal%20042.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/Semiformal%20042.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yes, I look like a freaking glamgirl. I am not. I just happened to steal some very spiffy glasses. I think I look like a blind person. Hm. I also think Meryl's face is the absolute BEST part of the picture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/Semiformal%20027.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/Semiformal%20027.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mary always rocks the camera!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/meoutside.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/meoutside.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yeah. Tres happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/Semiformal%20072.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/Semiformal%20072.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kyle, Claire, and the best darn Frenchie on the planet, Emmy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What a lovely weekend!&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/8317662-113747708814580047?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113747708814580047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113747708814580047' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113747708814580047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113747708814580047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/01/we-like-to-move-it-move-it.html' title='We Like To Move It Move It...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113661380705037623</id><published>2006-01-07T00:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T01:03:27.060-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Be Seeing You</title><content type='html'>Hm, tonight was fun. I could have done a few things but I opted to stay home and read and write a song and watch sappy movies. It was fun! However, I made a drastic mistake by choosing to give 'the Notebook' another shot. The first time I watched it I was a lot different than I am now, so my reaction then was worlds away from what it was tonight. It's a pity, though, that lessons are often learned after they would be most applicable. I wish I'd (re)watched it sooner, perhaps I would have done so many things differently. How beautiful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113661380705037623?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113661380705037623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113661380705037623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113661380705037623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113661380705037623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/01/ill-be-seeing-you.html' title='I&apos;ll Be Seeing You'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113657686918610369</id><published>2006-01-06T14:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T14:47:49.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Aquafinaaaaaaa.</title><content type='html'>Goodness, only 3 days left. Even the people in my dreams know of the impending terror. This can't be good. Oh, how I can't wait for college... *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I post on here? Bonus points and a cookie for anyone who can come up with a decent answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's off to drink green tea and watch sappy movies (a good antidote to the freakishly scary &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;King Kong&lt;/span&gt;). Have a lovely day, and please, don't pet the lemur!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113657686918610369?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113657686918610369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113657686918610369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113657686918610369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113657686918610369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/01/aquafinaaaaaaa.html' title='Aquafinaaaaaaa.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113627289756647767</id><published>2006-01-03T02:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T02:21:37.603-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I just got home. I'm bored. I turned an Eggo into a brick tonight.</title><content type='html'>Haha yes, I know I'm different from most girls and no, I don't feel the need to make that known. I just found this really amusing, especially since I know a lot of these are completely not stereotypes of  girls.... at all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl stereotypes&lt;br /&gt; 50 Stereotypes about girls....&lt;br /&gt;x the ones that apply to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] 1. we dig axe&lt;br /&gt;[x] 2. we're as afraid of you as you are of us&lt;br /&gt;[x] 3. we try to impress you most of the time&lt;br /&gt;[x] 4. we flirt alot if we like you&lt;br /&gt;[x] 5. we flirt alot. period.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 6. the one thing we like more than you, are shoes&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 7. we dont understand "guy talk"&lt;br /&gt;[x] 8. we LOVE hugs&lt;br /&gt;[.5x] 9. we hate it when you're ignorant&lt;br /&gt;[.5x] 10. we're not that girly, at all&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 11. we hate hardcore action movies (what?)&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 12. we giggle 24/7&lt;br /&gt;[x] 13. we are scared of almost anything&lt;br /&gt;[xxxx] 14. we dont always like the "tall dark and handsome" guy&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 15. AIM/MSN IM is our life (not lately!)&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 16. you see our myspace layout? its our 865412875th one&lt;br /&gt;[definitely not!]17. we ALWAYS think were fat, ALWAYS&lt;br /&gt;[x] 18. our personalities change in highschool&lt;br /&gt;[??? ]19. we have celebrity "boyfriends"&lt;br /&gt;[???]. we're scared of clowns&lt;br /&gt;[xxxxx]1. and we're scared of the dark&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 22. and were scared of spiders&lt;br /&gt;[xxxx, unless I'm watching it with someone to latch onto!]23. we HATE horror movies&lt;br /&gt;[xxxx] 24. we're not sluts&lt;br /&gt;[x] 25. we take things alot more serious than it seems&lt;br /&gt;[xxxx] 26. we run around our house in t-shirts and oversized sweatpants&lt;br /&gt;[Haha sleepovers? All the way? you must be joking... ] 27. during sleep overs, we talk about the guys we'd go all the way with&lt;br /&gt;[] 28. we arent very athletic&lt;br /&gt;[x] 29. we trust you more than our girl friends  (depending on who you are)&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 30. we are conceited, we just dont like to admit it&lt;br /&gt;[EW. That's like wearing cake. On your face. ] 31. we cover ourselves in foundation&lt;br /&gt;[???] 32. no matter how nice we are, we ARE bitches&lt;br /&gt;[far from it] 33. we love being scared&lt;br /&gt;[xxxxxx] 34. cuddling is our specialty&lt;br /&gt;[] 35. we LOVE cars&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 36. we hate alot of people&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 37. we cat fight&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 38. we scream when were mad&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 39. we squeal when we break a nail&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 40. we BREAK things down when we're mad&lt;br /&gt;[???]41. we love to talk about our boobs&lt;br /&gt;[ sometimes!] 42. the food in expensive resturaunts always taste better&lt;br /&gt;[I think the last time I had a bubble bath I was about 7] 43. bubble baths sooth us&lt;br /&gt;[xxxx] 44. when we dont know what to say on the phone, we sigh&lt;br /&gt;[x ] 45. we are serious people...most of the time&lt;br /&gt;[? It's attached, yes] 46. our hair is part of who we are&lt;br /&gt;[xxxx] 47. we can eat a lot&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 48. we hate cartoons&lt;br /&gt;[ ] 49. our cell phones are our best friend&lt;br /&gt;[] 50. we love the color pink...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113627289756647767?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113627289756647767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113627289756647767' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113627289756647767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113627289756647767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-just-got-home-im-bored-i-turned-eggo.html' title='I just got home. I&apos;m bored. I turned an Eggo into a brick tonight.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113619157163467740</id><published>2006-01-02T03:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T03:46:11.690-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My cell phone got stolen and I might need surgery on my jaw. That bites!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, life is peachy. Peachy like the good tree peaches, though. None of that out-of-the-can crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G'night all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113619157163467740?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113619157163467740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113619157163467740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113619157163467740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113619157163467740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2006/01/my-cell-phone-got-stolen-and-i-might.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113601389920868658</id><published>2005-12-31T01:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-31T02:24:59.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty Boy and Guilt Trips.</title><content type='html'>*blows off thick layer of dust* Wow, this blog sure went downhill fast. Was it ever on top of the hill to begin with? I'm pretty sure the answer is no. Hm. Does anyone read this anymore? Didn't think so. Skippy comments because I tell him to. Seriously, he is my comment slave. So onward we go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is an extremely funny thing. Really, it is. Right now I have a sliced lip, the most miserably sore legs in the world, a baffled brain and the most disgusting looking hair you've ever seen, but I'm inexplicably happy. It makes NO SENSE. I think I'm probably the craziest person in the world simply because I know I should be meh or tired or upset or contemplative or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt;, but as much as I tell myself to feel that way, something isn't letting me. It's odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was neat, my cell phone rang at about 10:45 in the morning, so I woke up to talk to my friend Eddie for like 10 minutes (totally wishing I was still asleep after not coming home till 4) and went back to bed. Well, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thought&lt;/span&gt; I was going back to bed. At like 11 o'clock, my doorbells rings. Four times. I thought it was my brother's little dinky friends, but I opened my bedroom door and my old childhood friend, Ryan Onax, was standing there pulling my brother out of his bed.  'Twas much fun and cuteness. We played a bit of poker and then played 4 games of tackle football in this horridly frigid weather. It was my brother, John, Ryan, Anthony (one of the dinky friends), Jared Thomas, and moi, and it was so awesome. I haven't gotten that beat up and dirty in SO LONG! I scored the winning touchdown in the last game, I was very.... hm.... like this!  ^_^. Yes, very much so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm tired as fudge and confused and desperately in need of sleep and Adoration! So what else is new? Adieu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas, the blog is still at the bottom of the hill. In fact, I believe it's in a gaping chasm. Oh goodness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113601389920868658?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113601389920868658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113601389920868658' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113601389920868658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113601389920868658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/pretty-boy-and-guilt-trips.html' title='Pretty Boy and Guilt Trips.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113595998186927644</id><published>2005-12-30T11:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T11:26:21.890-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm pretty sure God didn't want me to sleep this morning. Pretty sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113595998186927644?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113595998186927644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113595998186927644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113595998186927644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113595998186927644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/im-pretty-sure-god-didnt-want-me-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113584923315866992</id><published>2005-12-29T04:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T04:40:33.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;Katy stands at the top of the stairs&lt;br /&gt; As she’s leaving her father stares&lt;br /&gt; What has she come to? Another boy she runs to tonight&lt;br /&gt; Powerless he just shakes his head&lt;br /&gt; Disappointed and off to bed&lt;br /&gt; But he won’t be sleeping cause the hours she’s keeping are not right&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; She’s asking a question,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;how will I be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  after this next one eventually leaves me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  How can a man be all that they say when&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all that I know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  Is men run away?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  I think I lose just a little bit of me in every man that I see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Danny’s been out now for 7 days&lt;br /&gt; Funny how he thought the price had been paid on a past he hates to talk about&lt;br /&gt; It’s everything wrong about him&lt;br /&gt; He goes back home to a battle field and starts to drink as some kind of a shield&lt;br /&gt; For the anger instilled in him and their looks are killing him now&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt; He’s asking a question&lt;br /&gt; How will I be when It comes down to the end and memories still haunt me&lt;br /&gt; How can He have forgiveness that flows when no one forgives me&lt;br /&gt; yet it’s Jesus they know?&lt;br /&gt; I think I lose just a little bit of me in this family that won’t see&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;A crowd of confusion gathers round watching the light as he slowly goes out&lt;br /&gt; After all they’ve talked about everything’s coming out now&lt;br /&gt; Their anger turns to dead and gone&lt;br /&gt; Hearts start to feel what feels so wrong&lt;br /&gt;and as the time starts passing by and    hours turn to days&lt;br /&gt;in their heads they can still hear Him say&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;   I came for your questions of what you don’t know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  But you can’t see the answers unless I go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  So give Me your hatred and give your diseased&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  Give Me your tired and I’ll take them with Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  Cause I’m hanging here losing every part of Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  Just to open your eyes to what you would never see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  And to answer your questions there’s no place that I’d rather be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my life has ever been encapsulated by a song, this would be it... wow. Goodness gracious, I love Jon Mclaughlin!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113584923315866992?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113584923315866992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113584923315866992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113584923315866992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113584923315866992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/katy-stands-at-top-of-stairs-as-shes.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113580674447465026</id><published>2005-12-28T16:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T16:52:24.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sooo... I'm pretty sure I have a rare delusional disease in which every day seems better than the last. So every day you see me, you see me on the best day of my life. Like, the opposite of OfficeSpace. Oh yes, Apples to Apples is pretty much the best game ever created. And ice cream sandwiches and the Office rock my socks. Spontaneous combustion and Schindler's List. Oh yes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113580674447465026?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113580674447465026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113580674447465026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113580674447465026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113580674447465026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/sooo.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113541097499796529</id><published>2005-12-24T02:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-24T03:10:21.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On Silly Things...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blacktextnb10"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Hmmm.... so I got home tonight and sat down a la computer, rifling through the usual spectrum of sites... Livejournal, MySpace, HSFacebook, Phatmass, when I found one of those lovely survey things that tons of people (myself included) have grown so fond of filling out. And as I began to erase my friend Miriam's answers to fill them in with my own, I realized how odd it all was. Why do people so enjoy answering random questions about themselves, posting them for everyone to see? I came to the simple conclusion that this world is driven by a desire for knowledge. We seek to be known- by others and ourselves- so we post lists of random facts in order that others might read them, appreciate our perspectives, and understand us more fully. We may also be driven by pride, the yearning for attention or approval, or the desire to be loved. Or we may just be extremely bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm extremely bored, so la dee da!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm... I think the only big one is in my mouth from my surgery last year. Other than that, on my knee from a scooter accident. Silly scooters.... =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?&lt;br /&gt;A canvas painting, bulletin board, crucifix, 'Play Like A Champion Today' sign, a lei, dangly fish things, random pieces of art&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. WHAT DOES YOUR CELL PHONE LOOK LIKE?&lt;br /&gt;Just your typical camera phone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. WHAT MUSIC DO YOU LIKE TO LISTEN TO?&lt;br /&gt;Goodness, pretty much everything except hardcore, rap, and punk. Mostly acoustic/ piano type stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?&lt;br /&gt;Almost midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?&lt;br /&gt;Love. Heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. WHAT DO YOU MISS?&lt;br /&gt;Living with my mom, sophomore year, childhood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION?&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm.... guitar or camera I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SMELL?&lt;br /&gt;Either coconut or vanilla! I looooove them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC?&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?&lt;br /&gt;Haha yes of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOGNE / PERFUME?&lt;br /&gt;I don't really wear anything except the occassional vanilla, but I love Old Spice on guys.... Yummmm!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?&lt;br /&gt;Haha typically short, I suppose it depends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. WHERE CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF BEING PROPOSED TO AT?&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea! I know the Lord has something awesome in store though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINKS?&lt;br /&gt;Does tea count as an energy drink?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?&lt;br /&gt;Cheese, mushroom, or pepperoni&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?&lt;br /&gt;Hm. Well, I just had Taco Bell so I'm actually quite full...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. WHO IS THE LAST PERSON YOU MADE MAD/ANNOYED?&lt;br /&gt;A friend's brother I think, possibly my friend as well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. DO YOU SPEAK A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE?&lt;br /&gt;Oui!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. WHAT WAS THE FIRST GIFT SOMEONE OF THE OPPOSITE SEX EVER GAVE YOU, ROMANTICALLY?&lt;br /&gt;Ummm, well speaking romantically.... I don't think anyone's ever given me anything like that. *shrugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. WOULD YOU HAVE FEELINGS FOR SOMEONE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING FOR SOMEWHERE FAR AWAY?&lt;br /&gt;Ha. Of course not. How stupidly naive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU? After they've already told you so you don't feel like a complete idiot if it's not mutual, probably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:&lt;br /&gt;13&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?&lt;br /&gt;? Typically brunettes, though there have been exceptions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL OFTEN?&lt;br /&gt;Meryl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. WHAT ANNOYS YOU MOST?&lt;br /&gt;Pride in myself and others, fake-y people, drama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. HAS ANYONE EVER SPITED U?&lt;br /&gt;Probably&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. YOUR WEAKNESSES?&lt;br /&gt;Lots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST JOB?&lt;br /&gt;Silver Hawks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?&lt;br /&gt;Haha definitely!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED OUT THIS SURVEY?&lt;br /&gt;Hanging with friends at the Bell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. IF YOU COULD GET PLASTIC SURGERY WHAT WOULD IT BE?&lt;br /&gt;Um.... I wouldn't!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. WHY DID YOU FILL OUT THIS SURVEY?&lt;br /&gt;because I'm very, VERY bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?&lt;br /&gt;My voice and my hair, surprisingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ALCOHOL BECAME ILLEGAL?&lt;br /&gt;I would wonder what they'd do at Mass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?&lt;br /&gt;I have everything I need... for now. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?&lt;br /&gt;As many as God gives me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?&lt;br /&gt;Ireland. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. DO YOU WISH ON STARS?&lt;br /&gt;Kind of. I look at them and think of how brilliant God must be and so they remind me to pray to Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. WHICH FINGER[S] IS YOUR FAVORITE?&lt;br /&gt;The pinkie! And the left ring finger, of course... haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY?&lt;br /&gt;Adoration last week?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?&lt;br /&gt;Yes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?&lt;br /&gt;I don't really like lunch meat.... at all. It's very slimey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. ANY BAD HABITS?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, a few. Talking too much about myself/about things people don't care about and screaming when I get tickled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING CD YOU OWN?&lt;br /&gt;Why would I be embarrassed about my own music choice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Probably not... haha that sounds pessimistic but I would probably get bored with myself very, very quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. DO LOOKS MATTER?&lt;br /&gt;Nope. Not too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER?&lt;br /&gt;Singing, writing, sometimes crying. Rolling my eyes a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58. WHERE IS YOUR SECOND HOME?&lt;br /&gt;Do I have one? probably not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59. DO YOU TRUST OTHERS EASILY?&lt;br /&gt;Superficially yes definitely, but with extremely deep matters, it's difficult. *shrugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?&lt;br /&gt;Haha the Sit'n'Spin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63. DO YOU USE SARCASM?&lt;br /&gt;No, of course not. Such verbal contradiction offers no comedic value of any sort.... *smirks*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN A MOSH PIT?&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?&lt;br /&gt;Faith! Sense of humor, intelligence, outgoing-ness, uniqueness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?&lt;br /&gt;Thunder Thighs. No, I do not have thunder thighs. Really, I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68. DO YOU UN-TIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?&lt;br /&gt;Who has time for that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?&lt;br /&gt;Vanillayummmmm!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;72. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE COLORS?&lt;br /&gt;The shiny blue favorite-car-and-prom-dress color, chartreuse green, magenta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;73. HOW MANY WISDOM TEETH DO YOU HAVE?&lt;br /&gt;None. Stupid surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74. WHO/WHAT DO YOU MISS MOST RIGHT NOW?&lt;br /&gt;Hahaha. I've learned that missing people doesn't really do much. As to the 'what,' probably the last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;75. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?&lt;br /&gt;No way. Hopefully nobody's actually read this far. If anyone has, I pity their souls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;76. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?&lt;br /&gt;Jon Mclaughlin- 'A Song You Might Hear At A Wedding'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;77. LAST THING YOU ATE?&lt;br /&gt;Nachos and cheese&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?&lt;br /&gt;Anna&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;79. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX?&lt;br /&gt;Sense of humor, confidence, that certain sunshine-y quality that just sort of emanates from some people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?&lt;br /&gt;In a hospital, I would assume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81. SCARIEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO YOU?&lt;br /&gt;Asthma attack. Tornado. 2nd grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;82. FAVORITE DRINK?&lt;br /&gt;Green tea or Dr. Pepper or  good old H20&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;83. FAVORITE JOKE?&lt;br /&gt;Oye, I have one, but I can't remember it.... goodness that bugs me!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;84. FAVORITE SPORT?&lt;br /&gt;football or baseball or figure skating or taewondo..... or snowball fighting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;85. YOUR HAIR COLOR?&lt;br /&gt;brown?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;86. YOUR EYE COLOR?&lt;br /&gt;blue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;87. DO YOU WEAR GLASSES?&lt;br /&gt;nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;88. SIBLINGS?&lt;br /&gt;mon frere, Matt the Brat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;89. FAVORITE MONTH?&lt;br /&gt;December! or October.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90. YOU LIKE SUSHI?&lt;br /&gt;have I ever had sushi? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;91. LAST THING YOU WATCHED?&lt;br /&gt;I think I watched 'Deal or No Deal' and 'Everybody Loves Raymond'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;92. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?&lt;br /&gt;Christmas Eve&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;93. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT?&lt;br /&gt;Well personally I don't really think it's necessarily MY job to do the asking (as Mira and Katie said), but I certainly don't think it would be because I'm too shy... Lord knows I'm not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;94. SUMMER OR WINTER?&lt;br /&gt;Winter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;96. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS?&lt;br /&gt;Relationships, the way God intended it to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;97. WHO DO YOU SECRETLY LOVE?&lt;br /&gt;Why would I tell anyone on Blogger, LJ, or MySpace? Those who I want to know already do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;98. FAVORITE SONG AT THE MOMENT?&lt;br /&gt;Already In by Jon McLaughlin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;99. Lake or Ocean?&lt;br /&gt;Ocean... and why all of a sudden no caps?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;100. Biggest turnoff:&lt;br /&gt;self-absorbed-ness. Overseriousness. Worldliness. Shallowness. Boringness. I'm-too-selfconscious-to-be-different-in-any-way-shape-or-form-so-I'll-&lt;br /&gt;just-look-dress-and-act-like-everyone-else-ness.&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/8317662-113541097499796529?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113541097499796529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113541097499796529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113541097499796529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113541097499796529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/on-silly-things.html' title='On Silly Things...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113496451894536773</id><published>2005-12-18T22:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-18T22:55:18.956-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ecstatic Adoration</title><content type='html'>There was a moment when I thought&lt;br /&gt; the fabric of time would tear&lt;br /&gt; the world would seem a distant star&lt;br /&gt; and I'd be far from there...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; There was a moment yesterday&lt;br /&gt; a long, drawn out sigh&lt;br /&gt; when the heavens were screaming a beautiful song&lt;br /&gt; and I&lt;br /&gt; thought I could die.&lt;br /&gt; There was an impeccable moment&lt;br /&gt; a minute&lt;br /&gt;      an hour&lt;br /&gt;           a day&lt;br /&gt; of sheer rhapsodic ecstasy&lt;br /&gt; in which my soul will stay&lt;br /&gt; Can you feel the brilliant light&lt;br /&gt; that keeps me wide awake?&lt;br /&gt; It grows and presses on me&lt;br /&gt; till I feel&lt;br /&gt; my core shall break&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113496451894536773?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113496451894536773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113496451894536773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113496451894536773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113496451894536773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/ecstatic-adoration.html' title='Ecstatic Adoration'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113488968161272313</id><published>2005-12-18T02:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-18T02:08:01.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;"I rejoice heartily in the LORD, in my God is the joy of my soul; For he has clothed me with a robe of salvation, and wrapped me in a mantle of justice, Like a bridegroom adorned with a diadem, like a bride bedecked with her jewels." -Isaiah 61:10&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joyjoyjoyjoyjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny, I'm about 99% positive that I've grown more in my faith in the last three weeks than in all the months since my conversion. Praaaaaaise the Lord. I'm about to burst.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113488968161272313?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113488968161272313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113488968161272313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113488968161272313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113488968161272313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-rejoice-heartily-in-lord-in-my-god.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113469133768093506</id><published>2005-12-15T17:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T19:21:26.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Help me write a great(ish) song...</title><content type='html'>I'm writing a song (with piano!) for the Excel Awards (formerly Project XL) and I'd greatly appreciate your help. I'm posting a few pictures off of Chromasia, my favorite photoblog. You don't have to comment on all of them, but I'd be amazingly grateful if you could give your two cents on one or two. Not an in-depth, detailed analysis, but just what the picture makes you think about or any emotion it evokes. If it speaks a story to you, I'd like to know. You see, this year's topic is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;perception&lt;/span&gt;, so for once I'd like to step outside of my own. If it's not too much of a trouble, I'd prefer you &lt;a href="mailto:IrishPsyche39@sbcglobal.net"&gt;email me&lt;/a&gt; your responses. Merci~!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.chromasia.com/images/not_now_b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.chromasia.com/images/not_now_b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.pushingprimitives.com/pictures/atthepark1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.pushingprimitives.com/pictures/atthepark1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.eyematter.com/photos/brighton2_ec_640.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.eyematter.com/photos/brighton2_ec_640.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.hayath.com/pointandshoot/images/20050914215058_050915.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.hayath.com/pointandshoot/images/20050914215058_050915.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113469133768093506?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113469133768093506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113469133768093506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/help-me-write-greatish-song.html' title='Help me write a great(ish) song...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113461065949266968</id><published>2005-12-14T20:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T20:37:39.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Talking in British accents is probably the coolest thing ever. Just to let y'all know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113461065949266968?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113461065949266968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113461065949266968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113461065949266968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113461065949266968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/talking-in-british-accents-is-probably.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113451747967441986</id><published>2005-12-13T14:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T18:44:39.730-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have a post bobbing around in my head. I know exactly what I want to say... but I can't write. I just can't. It's such a good post... Stupid brain! Eh.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113451747967441986?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113451747967441986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113451747967441986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113451747967441986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113451747967441986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-have-post-bobbing-around-in-my-head.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113443523253802101</id><published>2005-12-12T19:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-12T20:24:39.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Beautiful Void</title><content type='html'>There is a stillness in my soul&lt;br /&gt;a crystal sea of peace&lt;br /&gt;And though I'm starving of myself&lt;br /&gt;I drown in His release&lt;br /&gt;The earth had set a banquet&lt;br /&gt;of the most delicious sin&lt;br /&gt;and its eyes embraced me tenderly&lt;br /&gt;as a glance would pull me in&lt;br /&gt;below the liquid light there lay&lt;br /&gt;a depthless, breathless well&lt;br /&gt;I gasped and drank the water&lt;br /&gt;as I fell&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113443523253802101?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113443523253802101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113443523253802101' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113443523253802101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113443523253802101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/beautiful-void.html' title='A Beautiful Void'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113418342558548440</id><published>2005-12-09T21:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T21:57:05.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll stop posting pictures soon.... I promise!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/Tubing%20029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/Tubing%20029.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/Tubing%20007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/Tubing%20007.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/Tubing%20026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/Tubing%20026.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/Tubing%20022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/Tubing%20022.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/Tubing%20005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/Tubing%20005.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113418342558548440?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113418342558548440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113418342558548440' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113418342558548440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113418342558548440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/ill-stop-posting-pictures-soon-i.html' title='I&apos;ll stop posting pictures soon.... I promise!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113414506412733926</id><published>2005-12-09T11:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T19:39:43.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In The Meantime...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/lamp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/lamp.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/necroducks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/necroducks.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/1600/flowers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/426/558/320/flowers.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just trying a few things out. *shrugs*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113414506412733926?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113414506412733926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113414506412733926' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113414506412733926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113414506412733926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/in-meantime.html' title='In The Meantime...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113376041849045760</id><published>2005-12-04T23:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-05T00:26:58.510-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Walking On Sunshine, whooaaa!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating002.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Wheeeee, shiny!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating016.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Matt's 'model' pose? I'm not sure.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;Aaron Seng is freaking HOME!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And in our bunches of em&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ails he &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; told me... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;the door just opene&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;d &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;an&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;d there he was. Ta da. I almost broke my cell phone when I hugged him cause it flew out an&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;d the back fell off... it's a pity I don't have The Tank. And I totally had to leave for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;practice before Antio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ch ended, so all I got was an ecstatic wave and a hug and a few words. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So&lt;/span&gt; not fair, haha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Anyway... Dangdangittydingdong! (He probably doesn't think I should be this excited about it, but he&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;y, I haven't seen him &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;since August!) Oy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;e. C&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;oolness incarnate. I better be a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ble to talk to him &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;soon or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; may just&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; explode&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;with excitement. Merry &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ris&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;tmas t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; eh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating003.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Trying to prove that he could eat the Gingerbread Man...&lt;br /&gt;that my uncle made like 25 years ago.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating004.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Umm... I don't know. I think I was imitating the nutcracker...&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Oh yeah, an&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;d I got m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;y Christmas gift early. Canon Powershot A610&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;. Best c&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;amera on the market supposedly.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Way swe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;et. Waaay too expen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;sive, but still swe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;et. I l&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ove pictures so much, I've already taken around 75, from DQ and my family. I can't wait till break, it'll be muchos funos... or something. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;*dances*&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.eurodatec.de/images/A610.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.eurodatec.de/images/A610.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Canon Powershot A610. Freak out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating007.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Oh yes, that is indeed an ornament. Rock on.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Oh yeah, got a 3rd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; solo at the  last minut&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;e for Lessons and Carols... t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;t'll be a blas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;t. Oh Holy Night, What Child Is This, and Night of Silence. Yay! Too bad you fruitloops won't be there to see it, Mary Cate and Sarah Holland and Will Heckaman have solos too, and they'll be really beautiful. Oh well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating011.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Boo?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating014.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;My Brother. BB Gun. Be afraid, be very, very afraid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; So yeah, today began my family's week-long Annual Christmas Deco Brouhaha. As you can tel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;l &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;from t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;he pictures, it is usually quite &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;odd.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;uch Mannheim Steamroller &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;mus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ic and craziness, mostly me and my brother running around the house like idiots with tinsel in our hair and cookies in our mouths pretending to be possessed nutcrackers... anyway, just thought I'd share the joy of my new camera... haha have a wonderful next few weeks everyone, see you soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Pics%20of%20Friends/DQ3Dec05015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Pics%20of%20Friends/DQ3Dec05015.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;My beloved Boofluffymuffinpillowface.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/ChristmasDecorating005.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;And you thought I was psycho...&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&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/8317662-113376041849045760?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113376041849045760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113376041849045760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113376041849045760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113376041849045760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/im-walking-on-sunshine-whooaaa_04.html' title='I&apos;m Walking On Sunshine, whooaaa!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/Family/th_ChristmasDecorating002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113349775287427313</id><published>2005-12-01T22:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-01T23:29:12.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In Order To Form A More Perfect Union...</title><content type='html'>Sweet mother of snowglobes... &lt;a href="http://www.cad-animation.com/"&gt;behold&lt;/a&gt;! A treasure of incomparable sweetness... possibly. The piece of art that was at first the bane of my existence has grown on me in the past 6 months or so. I do believe that if the producers keep it true to its original form, I shall be quite smitten with it for some time. Now, the rest of you have likely abandoned interest, but I am perpetually in awe of the hilarity. Bon bon bon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, y'all have undoubtedly heard of the steaming conflict over the role of religion in Christmas and the de-spiritualizing of the holiday in the United States. Stores are forced to say 'Happy Holidays,' people are ticked at the President for putting up a Christmas tree in D.C., et cetera. Personally, I only see common sense on one side of the coin, but I will justify my beliefs (or attempt to) presently.  This matter is extremely important to me and I do not feel that it is possible to sit back and ignore it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I think we can all agree that the basis of this argument comes from the 1st amendment, and as to whether or not there is in fact an 'establishment of religion' going on in events such as those mentioned above. Some people are supposedly offended by the word 'Christmas,' a term used by priests and pagans alike for centuries. They find themselves to be in the minority and feel that we as Christians are imposing beliefs upon them that they do not themselves hold. It is true that the Constitution aims to abolish that injustice: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, let's take a look at what the term 'religion' entails. I believe that there can be quite a bit of insight gained when one simply begins with the correct information. According to the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, religion refers to 'a set of beliefs, values, and practices based on the teachings of a spiritual leader; a cause, principle, or activity pursued with zeal or conscientious devotion.' Very nice. Thus, it is true that to establish or enforce a preferred set of beliefs is unconstitutional. But how often is this done in every store, on every television, and with every passing year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the given definition of religion holds true, our society &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;has&lt;/span&gt; in fact established several laws that could be considered in violation of the first amendment. It seems to me that as a devout Catholic, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;am in the minority. You see, Agnosticism has become a religion, that is, 'a cause, principle, or activity pursued with zeal or conscientious devotion.' Materialism has become a religion.  Lust, self-worship, hatred. All religions. I see people sacrificing thousands of dollars, their purity, and their hope all in worship of things of this world. When, on a rare occassion, I am channel surfing, I can immediately see evidence of it. If I am wrong, and people are not making cars, money, sex, and power their gods, why then the obssession with them? It seems to me that most go at it with more than a 'conscientious devotion,' and with something close to a maniacal avidity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, as a minority, I am deeply offended by these false religions established so firmly in our nation's core with wreckless abandon. My adversary,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; you&lt;/span&gt; are offended by a plant and a few words; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; must face porn, 'reality' dating shows, MTV, and the juniors sections at department stores that sell nothing but skin-tight and low-cut tops. I see no sense in the accusations and goings-on of those who feel excluded because of trees and seasonal greetings, because I as a Christian must face worse than that. I know the facts, and I won't consider these accusations valid until the day that all impressment of&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; idolatry&lt;/span&gt; is stripped of this society. Grab your calendars, folks, it'll be a long wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113349775287427313?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113349775287427313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113349775287427313' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113349775287427313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113349775287427313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/12/in-order-to-form-more-perfect-union.html' title='In Order To Form A More Perfect Union...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113307516994238141</id><published>2005-11-27T01:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-27T02:16:55.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Horror, The Horror(ish)!</title><content type='html'>Okay, this blog has gone depressingly downhill. Basically, I've begun to resort to one of three options. A) Be random and utterly ridiculous which would be a vain attempt as I could never outdo the chaotic randonimity that is Monsieur Miller. B) Be serious and offer insights and connections, thus making my blog completely depressing as it would be no fun to read. or C) post about my life and the odd goings-on of my day, which comes off as self-absorbed and really isn't that interesting anyway... Hm. Well, as Skippy witnessed in the car today, my brain moves rather quickly, so I'll just start typing and hope for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past several years there has been a war raging in my household. No, not between the members of my family (though that is gruesome as well). The conflict lies, of course, between myself and the plastic bread bag. You know how loaves of bread are packaged 'conveniently' in the little plastic bags and secured efficiently with a twistie-tie? Yeah, that method is absolute crap in a wrapper. Every time I desire to eat a slice of carb-y goodness, that evil nickel's logo stares me down into a little hole somewhere in the furthest reaches of the Arctic Circle. The plastic crinkles and whimpers as I toss and turn it around, attempting to unravel the mess that is the mutilated yellow twistie. With a few more rotations and one final yank, I manage to free a few pieces from their ghastly prison. Now, here's the clincher: closing the bag. I just love the fact that no matter how many times you press all the air out and get it flat, there's always air in the bag when you reseal it. Always. Sure, it may escape eventually, but that's a whole half an hour or so of trapped air making the bread all nasty and stale. I'm sorry, but bread is sustenance, meant to be moist and delectable, not stale. Stale bread is about as yummy as my dead hamster's frozen carcass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My old hamster suffered a truly tragic death. Now, in case you weren't aware, hamsters are only meant to live 2-3 years. Mine lived 5. Thus, the final days of Skitter's life were not those of valiant escapes or record wheel-running times. No no, rather, Skitter spent his last 72 hours on this earth trying to make it from his wheel to his water bottle. I went to bed one night and he was lifting his left foot, I woke up and he was lifting his right. Now, I may laugh at certain debatably serious parts in movies, but this was no laughing matter. This was one pathetic hamster, and I loved him very much. So, to numb the pain and hurry his death, I put him in a box with a few of his favorite yogurt drops and some shredded paper, and left him outside. It was January. One can only hope that I somehow developed the first cryogenically preserved rodent...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, tonight was fun. Busted a few windows at Ado, looked like a cute Uncle Fester at Rocco's, and saw a great ND finish. Bon voyage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113307516994238141?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113307516994238141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113307516994238141' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113307516994238141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113307516994238141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/11/horror-horrorish.html' title='The Horror, The Horror(ish)!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113281408101882659</id><published>2005-11-24T01:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T02:05:19.366-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why do I write?</title><content type='html'>I write because words are drops of light falling into the shadowed corner of a darkened world. They are the soltice of the heart's expression, the solitude of an art that has long been hidden. I write because I fall in love, I write because I see the world, I write because I am inspired, I write because I live. When life ceases, writing ceases. When writing ceases, life ceases to be life and becomes something to be observed rather than experienced. That is why I write: because it is my way of reliving, remembering, reflecting. A painter may create a masterpiece in his mind but if it is not on paper it is a mere daydream, unpursued and unapplied. Yet this is only my way. The easiest method of warding off false-life is striving for what we are intended to do in everything. Search for that beauty, pine for it. Bread will continue to be bread, as life will continue to be life, but we've been given toasters, and all we have to do is use them. So pull out the strawberry jam and butter and get cracking, the kitchen closes soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113281408101882659?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113281408101882659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113281408101882659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113281408101882659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113281408101882659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/11/why-do-i-write.html' title='Why do I write?'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113255122458016820</id><published>2005-11-20T23:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T00:16:57.946-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's keep as much of how it was how it is...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.theuglymonkey.com/sesame_street_turkey.JPG"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.theuglymonkey.com/sesame_street_turkey.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case y'all didn't realize, the last post was written entirely in movie quotes... which is why much of it isn't true. Yes, OF COURSE I dance when there's no music! I'm a shower singer and a sidewalk dancer, I can't help it! Anyway, I'll edit in a little philosophical rambling tomorrow afternoon, for now I am basking in the misery of being an utter disgrace to inspiration's call. Writer's block... the headcold of the soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...oh holy merde... I just downloaded a bunch of songs by The Wrens, and there's a song called Thirteen Grand. This is so odd. It's just.... odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;   &lt;h2&gt;Thirteen Grand&lt;/h2&gt;     &lt;p&gt;Talk about all that you kept bottled up inside&lt;br /&gt;Makes you laugh&lt;br /&gt;then it makes you cry&lt;br /&gt;I said it all too late&lt;br /&gt;Is this real at all&lt;br /&gt;you're not so sure&lt;br /&gt;It's easy now because you're safe&lt;br /&gt;can't change your mind&lt;br /&gt;Moving on is not fair when it leaves me on my own&lt;br /&gt;I lived my life waiting for tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;but I guess it's your turn now&lt;br /&gt;We trade these lines to get us by&lt;br /&gt;but what's it matter&lt;br /&gt;You keep saying Jersey's not a home&lt;br /&gt;I thought I had it all figured out&lt;br /&gt;but look who got it wrong&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt;Well, wow. Is there another me walking about this earth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another edit because I don't feel like updating: I have a bad feeling about this Thanksgiving Break. I feel a fit of blistering anger that only manifests itself every so often. I think I need some steak knives. And a wall. And some Kleenex. Yup.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113255122458016820?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113255122458016820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113255122458016820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113255122458016820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113255122458016820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/11/lets-keep-as-much-of-how-it-was-how-it.html' title='Let&apos;s keep as much of how it was how it is...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113228988307252626</id><published>2005-11-17T23:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-18T00:20:17.806-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Even Bother Reading This, It Will Bore You To Tears</title><content type='html'>I feel like trying something a bit different. Okay, maybe not simply different, maybe just extraordinarily weird that no one will understand... I won't expound, an explanation would only spoil....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;No thinking - that comes later. I must find a truly original idea. It is the only way I will ever distinguish myself. It is the only way I will ever matter. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who's ever lived: I don't scratch my head unless it itches and I don't dance unless I hear some music. I will not say, Do not weep, for not all tears are an evil. Sometimes life is hard for no reason at all, but that is what the pain means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever. Now, go and boil your bottoms, you sons of silly persons! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muahahahaha. That was fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113228988307252626?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113228988307252626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113228988307252626' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113228988307252626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113228988307252626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/11/dont-even-bother-reading-this-it-will.html' title='Don&apos;t Even Bother Reading This, It Will Bore You To Tears'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113209905957470706</id><published>2005-11-15T18:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T22:35:46.010-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When Aristotle Falls On Your Power Strip...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.jonmclaughlinmusic.com/images/banner02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 350px;" src="http://www.jonmclaughlinmusic.com/images/banner02.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;...your post gets erased. Oye, I knew I hated philosophy. Kidding, kidding. Anyway, I have happy birthday Jenny returned with more senseless blabber to brighten your day! But first, a plug for my friend Jon. This guy is an amazing pianist and writer, and deserves support in any way possible. Visit his &lt;a href="http://jonmclaughlinmusic.com/"&gt;site&lt;/a&gt;, listen to some of his stuff, and trust me, you will be surprised. Now, on to the potaytos and potahtos of the post. Well, in all actuality, they're the same thing, but hey, it looks amusing. I wonder which spelling would taste better...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Lula's Cafe on Sunday, a place I haven't been to for a rather long time. We had Creative Writing Club there from 1-2:30, and then I sat by myself on a comfy couch, people-watching and playing guitar. It was really quite a picturesque scene, and you know how much I love picturesquousity. From 2:30 to 4:30, I was content in simply soaking in everything around me, and I must admit that it was the best thinking time I've had in awhile. I love thinking, just pondering and pouring over different things in my head. It's a curse and a blessing, I suppose. But it was much fun, and I think I'll be returning soon to meet Vince, the best person in the world. Not really, but he's pretty flipping awesome. In any case, I got to thinking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and then I stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, not really. I actually had written a chunk of a short story, but I got sick of it and deleted it. Oh well, it was merde, I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really need a digital camera. Really really. The one on my phone isn't sufficient, and it malfunctions half the time anyway. But seriously, I could capture all of my friends' lovely moments without any hassle. I think Michael's parents owe me their camera anyway... yeah, I think I'll just steal theirs. Sounds good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this nose business is going to drive me crazy. I don't know why people have a fascination with poking, tapping, and playing with my nose, but now every time I'm bored or sitting at my computer I tap my nose. I don't even realize I'm doing it...It's really weird. It's going to end up with like a dent in it. I think a crater in my nose would be even weirder than my huge eyes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, I'm totally in love with Pandora.com. If you like music and don't feel like downloading it or buying it or sifting through radio stations, go here. Seriously. It's the coolest thing since fiberoptic wands, and we all know how much I love those!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohhhh, the choppyoffness. I hate it. If I end the post now it will be completely meaningless and I will be left feeling as though I haven't done an adequate job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, alas, off I go... more later I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;light from the Love&lt;br /&gt;that is no mere sentiment&lt;br /&gt;remains&lt;br /&gt;though dimmed, lost, forgotten&lt;br /&gt;completely new&lt;br /&gt;for it is&lt;br /&gt;in itself&lt;br /&gt;eternally Undiscovered&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts? Inspirations? Goldfish?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113209905957470706?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113209905957470706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113209905957470706' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113209905957470706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113209905957470706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/11/when-aristotle-falls-on-your-power.html' title='When Aristotle Falls On Your Power Strip...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113173450702557667</id><published>2005-11-11T13:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-11T13:42:53.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And here's Eddie's friend now..... Porschnekov!</title><content type='html'>I have a massive series of bruises all over me. It's because Justin abuses me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...No, not really, but I really do have a ton of bruises. My knee looks like a blueberry and my side is almost the same. Word of caution: Don't attempt to be the human slinky. It's a bad idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't serenade lawn gnomes. His eyebrows are not little grey clouds ready to rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't toss ice into the toilet. It is not a wishing well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't eat dog biscuits. Even if it is your life-long dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't sing to the refrigerator water dispensor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't talk to Mr. Simmons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't try to be Superwoman in a tire swing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't feed the Marcus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow... I learned a lot yesterday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113173450702557667?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113173450702557667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113173450702557667' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113173450702557667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113173450702557667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/11/and-heres-eddies-friend-now.html' title='And here&apos;s Eddie&apos;s friend now..... Porschnekov!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113149698627175045</id><published>2005-11-08T19:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-09T22:23:08.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Freeeeeeeeewrite.</title><content type='html'>All this time&lt;br /&gt;too much to hold&lt;br /&gt;it overflows into my hands&lt;br /&gt;and so I fold&lt;br /&gt;(It is a pity that&lt;br /&gt;I'm a blind)-&lt;br /&gt;little girl with this&lt;br /&gt;sightless, spotless mind&lt;br /&gt;I count the clicks&lt;br /&gt;of metronome&lt;br /&gt;that mark the moments&lt;br /&gt;till I'm home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and this,&lt;br /&gt;our brilliant escapade&lt;br /&gt;has left me-&lt;br /&gt;silent, silent&lt;br /&gt;shadows of that old charade&lt;br /&gt;have left me silent&lt;br /&gt;silent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stare out as the buzz flies fast&lt;br /&gt;and wonder if&lt;br /&gt;I'm no more than those thoughts&lt;br /&gt;of seconds passed&lt;br /&gt;Bread and butter is my soul&lt;br /&gt;crumbling like pieces into the bowl of&lt;br /&gt;chicken soup&lt;br /&gt;makes all things well&lt;br /&gt;but can it cure the tempest and the swell&lt;br /&gt;of&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this, our brilliant escapade&lt;br /&gt;has left me-&lt;br /&gt;silent, silent&lt;br /&gt;shadows of that old charade&lt;br /&gt;have left me silent&lt;br /&gt;silent&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113149698627175045?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113149698627175045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113149698627175045' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113149698627175045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113149698627175045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/11/freeeeeeeeewrite.html' title='Freeeeeeeeewrite.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113139043349065814</id><published>2005-11-07T12:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T14:11:50.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Bet You Eat Your Young...</title><content type='html'>Yeah, finally another update. I'm home sick (yes, sick. Not skipping.) from school and so I figure I might as well do something a little bit productive. I'll just throw some randomness out there as that's really all my brain's capable of producing tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The retreat was great, really difficult and probably the worst retreat I've been on personally, but it went really well for the candidates and I know it touched a lot of people. And that's the point. As I hopped off the bus, the first thing I heard was Becki saying 'Erin! We're putting you at a table, is that okay?' So I didn't have to do the rose skit and I was incredibly thankful that the Lord worked that out for me 'cause I never would have held up. Let's see... talks were absolutely amazing given that most had little or no practice. Michael and Claire, in my opinion, could easily go into careers involving public speaking or ministry, and it was so beautiful to hear Emily finally disclose a story that even the team had never heard. Other than that, hmm... I liked P&amp;amp;W for the most part, Mass was interesting in both positive and negative ways, and Saturday night was a very much-needed experience in many aspects. I learned a lot about myself, the past, future, and the like. It was great to be prayed over by Jags and Sanchez, as they both prayed over me at the 2 other monumental retreats in my life, and every time they reveal exactly what I need to know. As I got up, Sanchez said 'whoa, you cry a lot!' ...Isn't that the truth... silly me. Backi and Lou's chastity talk... great. For the first time I totally agreed with everything they had to say, because now I totally understand it, and I have an amazing respect for their courage. The food was good. Wow, that was a long string of uncorrelated thoughts. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On December 11th there's a thing called Lessons and Carols at St. Bavo. It's basically a musical performance that the audience sporadically participates in. There are tons of Christmas songs interwoven with readings and reflections, so it's about an hour and a half long. Anyway, I'm really excited because I'm singing a verse solo on 'O Holy Night' and Will Heckaman and I are singing 'What Child Is This?' and 'Child of the Poor' as a duet. I really wish y'all could come, but obviously the timing is really bad so I suppose if you pray for me that'll be just as great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, my writing is really not very articulate right now. Very choppy. Perhaps a bit of music will help. And no, this isn't about suicide, you silly people. Oye!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a postcard out my window&lt;br /&gt;and it's moving at light speed&lt;br /&gt;go from trailer parks to trashcans&lt;br /&gt;from the highway to the trees&lt;br /&gt;Now these roads have all been driven&lt;br /&gt;and these words have all been made&lt;br /&gt;what's that light that's coming toward me?&lt;br /&gt;Why are the lines beginning to fade?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beam me up Scotty&lt;br /&gt;life's been grand&lt;br /&gt;but on the other hand&lt;br /&gt;I can hear Him singing my name&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready to rise out&lt;br /&gt;of all the haze&lt;br /&gt;it's the end of my days&lt;br /&gt;and I've lived them well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lawyer on the bed of his pride&lt;br /&gt;still he's searching for loopholes&lt;br /&gt;hoping maybe he'll be counted&lt;br /&gt;as a silver made of gold&lt;br /&gt;Nevermind these stubborn lies&lt;br /&gt;you only have one track to record&lt;br /&gt;so choose your words wisely&lt;br /&gt;and be careful with your chords&lt;br /&gt;so on the last day you'll be thinking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beam me up Scotty&lt;br /&gt;life's been grand&lt;br /&gt;but on the other hand&lt;br /&gt;I can hear Him singing my name&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready to rise out&lt;br /&gt;of all the haze&lt;br /&gt;it's the end of my days&lt;br /&gt;and I've lived them well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His hair is as white as winter&lt;br /&gt;His eyes are loving flames&lt;br /&gt;And so I spend each moment&lt;br /&gt;I will win this race, this game&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beam me up Scotty&lt;br /&gt; life's been grand&lt;br /&gt; but on the other hand&lt;br /&gt; I can hear Him singing my name&lt;br /&gt;The skies are all on fire&lt;br /&gt;and I'm awake&lt;br /&gt;my soul is His to take&lt;br /&gt;I'm just waiting now&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113139043349065814?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113139043349065814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113139043349065814' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113139043349065814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113139043349065814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/11/i-bet-you-eat-your-young.html' title='I Bet You Eat Your Young...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113073462217686290</id><published>2005-10-30T23:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-30T23:57:02.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometime In October</title><content type='html'>The room of holy angels&lt;br /&gt; has been traded for a wall&lt;br /&gt; and the voices checked by distance&lt;br /&gt; seem no longer down the hall&lt;br /&gt; A bottle filled with green tea&lt;br /&gt; watches from some feet away&lt;br /&gt; it just adds to piercing silence&lt;br /&gt; with the words it doesn't say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So tell me, do you listen?&lt;br /&gt; My voice falters at the end&lt;br /&gt; The error echoes violently&lt;br /&gt; but you remain a friend&lt;br /&gt; So tell me, do you see me?&lt;br /&gt; I am so far from pristine&lt;br /&gt; My perspective's odd and troubled&lt;br /&gt; like the cracks I fall between&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So I will fall&lt;br /&gt; not into the dark&lt;br /&gt; on my own&lt;br /&gt; I will shatter&lt;br /&gt; if only You'll break me&lt;br /&gt; I will cry tears of my tomorrow&lt;br /&gt; and I will fall if only&lt;br /&gt; You'll take me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Driving seems a lovely route&lt;br /&gt; but four walls hold me fast&lt;br /&gt; so I lap the miles in my mind&lt;br /&gt; till too much time is past&lt;br /&gt; trees that line my ponderings&lt;br /&gt; are turning brilliant red&lt;br /&gt; but colors aren't useful&lt;br /&gt; for I'm blind when in my head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So tell me, can you feel it?&lt;br /&gt; You're the road beneath my fear&lt;br /&gt; Each false step is cold and balanced&lt;br /&gt; each lost moment is a year&lt;br /&gt; So tell me, will you find me?&lt;br /&gt; I'm no longer on your way&lt;br /&gt; I won't burn the bridge I'm crossing&lt;br /&gt; but I surely cannot stay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So I will fall&lt;br /&gt;  not into the dark&lt;br /&gt;  on my own&lt;br /&gt;  I will shatter&lt;br /&gt;  if only You'll break me&lt;br /&gt;  I will cry tears of my tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;  and I will fall if only&lt;br /&gt;  You'll take me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So please, do you remember?&lt;br /&gt; Details vaguely reappear&lt;br /&gt; It was sometime in October&lt;br /&gt; It was somewhere close to here...&lt;br /&gt;_______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, soooo many different aspects of life crammed into one little song. Odd, eh? I assure you though, it sounds depressing but it isn't meant to be! (Note who is being spoken to and the variations in capitalization of the word 'you.' Might help a bit.) Feedback, critique, and/or analyzation always welcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113073462217686290?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113073462217686290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113073462217686290' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113073462217686290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113073462217686290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/sometime-in-october.html' title='Sometime In October'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113065437213517205</id><published>2005-10-30T01:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-30T01:40:31.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If You Fell Off, You'd Probably Die!!</title><content type='html'>Yeah, I know, I just posted this morning and nobody's even read it yet, but oh well. I post again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan is trying to make deer meat out of my soul. Like, totally. He's aiming for a complete calamity. Totally just dousing my heart in fear, desolation, loneliness, panic. And not the typical oh-my-gosh-I'm-being-girly-and-flipping-out-crying-and-dying-inside kind of stuff. I feel unusually calm. You may think this to be a good thing, but rest assured that it is quite the opposite. Hm, analogy. I'm standing in the sunshine but the clouds are looming in the distance, and even the sight of the impending storm is enough to put chills down my spine. I just pray that this storm fizzles before it reaches me. Of course, as a wise friend once pointed out, if you begin in the deepest trench of the deepest valley, the victory is so much greater once you're sitting atop the mountain's peak. It is with this in mind that I continue in the joy of the Lord! I think I'm just going to find Satan, tie him down with the chains of heaven, and make him listen to my praise and worship allllll day loooooong. That'll teach him. Can't keep a good (wo)man down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.-  I'm in love with Aaron Seng. I talked to him on le phone tonight, way amazing to hear his voice!&lt;br /&gt;P.P.S.-I'm also in love with Kreeft and Sheen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113065437213517205?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113065437213517205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113065437213517205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113065437213517205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113065437213517205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/if-you-fell-off-youd-probably-die.html' title='If You Fell Off, You&apos;d Probably Die!!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113061077407910499</id><published>2005-10-29T12:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-29T13:43:20.346-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What the heck is gumbo?</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;"I'm 15 for a moment&lt;br /&gt;Caught in between 10 and 20&lt;br /&gt;And I'm just dreaming&lt;br /&gt;Counting the ways to where you are&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Half time goes by&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly you’re wise&lt;br /&gt;Another blink of an eye&lt;br /&gt;67 is gone&lt;br /&gt;The sun is getting high&lt;br /&gt;We're moving on...&lt;br /&gt;I'm 99 for a moment&lt;br /&gt;Dying for just another moment&lt;br /&gt;And I'm just dreaming&lt;br /&gt;Counting the ways to where you are ..."&lt;br /&gt;-Five For Fighting, '100 Years'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New. Favorite. Song. Heard it on some credit card commercial and totally fell in love with it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm really tired. I didn't get to sleep until 2:30. Just woke up. It's 1:08. Wow, pathetico!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got a notice from the library that says I have three overdue books. The titles are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Melting Pot Book of Baby Names, The New Age Baby Name Book, and Beyond Jennifer and Jason, Madison and Montana: what to name your baby now. &lt;/span&gt;Umm, sure? Now, I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that I don't need those and have never heard of them before in my life. So why are they on my card? Je ne sais pas, the little non-fiction munchkins must be at work yet again. After all, there are like 2 or 3 other Erin Marie Hall's in St. Joe County's library card database... odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so here's the dealio. I think people who act when they're children, who do commercials and movies and TV shows, must grow up to be the some most realistic (and possibly most unimaginative) people in the world. Now, obviously not all of them, as a lack of creativity and the ability to dream is an awful disease that can fortunately be cured by simply opening one's mind to the world. But I'm going to bet that many of them are disillusioned at such an early age that the beauty of movies, the magic of how real they seem, is probably drained away by the time they become teenagers. In retrospect, however, it is possible that it has no effect on them at all. For example, I know all about how music and photos are made, I've been exposed to the writing process and the techniques of photography, yet with each picture that emerges from that darkroom and each piece that spills forth from the pen, there's still that sense of brilliance. Perchance I just defeated my own argument, but I still believe that if one could see the entire technique of how a movie is made, be involved in the process and see all the cords and wires and screens and cameras, it would totally suck the life out of the experience of watching the finished product. Sure, it would be great, but it wouldn't take one out of this time and space as some great movies do *coughLordoftheRingscough*. I don't know, just a thought. I'll have to ponder this one a bit more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, in case you haven't already, go to &lt;a href="http://www.secretrome.com"&gt;SecretRome.com.&lt;/a&gt; Really, you haven't seen city and scenery combined in such a beautiful way. Browse through the most recent, perhaps you'll understand my wanting to live there at some point!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go eat some Honey Bunches of Oats with Bananas; YEAH BANANANANANAS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a lovely day, guys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113061077407910499?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113061077407910499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113061077407910499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113061077407910499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113061077407910499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/what-heck-is-gumbo.html' title='What the heck is gumbo?'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113045152266650773</id><published>2005-10-27T17:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-27T17:18:42.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Few Ponderings On Death...</title><content type='html'>Would you kill a total stranger for 15 million dollars?&lt;br /&gt;One of my friends answered 'yes' to this. What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Likewise, would you die for someone you did know if it meant saving their life?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113045152266650773?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113045152266650773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113045152266650773' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113045152266650773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113045152266650773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/few-ponderings-on-death.html' title='A Few Ponderings On Death...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113037150933466667</id><published>2005-10-26T19:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-26T19:08:06.586-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;"You cannot love your neighbor as yourself&lt;br /&gt;if you love your neighbor instead of yourself.&lt;br /&gt;You must love yourself to love your neighbor."&lt;br /&gt;-Dr. John Crosby, Philosophy Professor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dang. Sweet. More later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming soon:&lt;br /&gt;-the ADHD Manifesto&lt;br /&gt;-Sweet pro-life short story/article&lt;br /&gt;-reasons why guys with Marian devotion are way attractive (see Phatmass)&lt;br /&gt;-random songs and poems&lt;br /&gt;-retreat garble&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113037150933466667?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113037150933466667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113037150933466667' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113037150933466667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113037150933466667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/you-cannot-love-your-neighbor-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113034219565513663</id><published>2005-10-26T10:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-26T19:06:32.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yo.</title><content type='html'>Yeahhhh so I don't really know what to say, I just felt compelled to post something. The last week or so has been tres interessant, lots of laughing, which is waaaaay magnifique! I love my friends a lot, Merylio and Justin totally make my day. Of course, it's odd. Even though this year has been really flipping fun so far and I know more hilarity is in store, it really doesn't compare to the fun I had this summer. I miss you guys, Skippy and Alex and Michael...*Shrugs* I guess things just change like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, off to Piechnik and lunch... hopefully this time I don't launch anything out of the atmosphere...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113034219565513663?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113034219565513663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113034219565513663' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113034219565513663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113034219565513663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/yo.html' title='Yo.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-113004476198844144</id><published>2005-10-23T00:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-23T12:44:37.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Fat.</title><content type='html'>I love fat. I order my fat, wait for my fat, purchase my fat. I wish to marry the fat. And I shall. And fat shall be mine, and I shall be fat's. The fat is the source of all that is good. The Israelites, at the foot of Mount Sinai, they took off their jewelry and fashioned... a hunk of jewelry. THEN, they all had liposuction, and fashioned it into a large ball of fat. Fat fat fat. Fat.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot see out the window, the fat is too consuming. I cannot lift my neck, it is burdened with fat. I am weighed down by my fattening utensil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love fat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Why do I post this, since one of the two people who understand this doesn't know of my blog, and the other will never read my blog because he is too technologically impaired? I do not know. The only truth that I know is that the fat is beautiful, and ping-pong rocks my face off. The end. I mean, In Julius.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-113004476198844144?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/113004476198844144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=113004476198844144' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113004476198844144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/113004476198844144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-love-fat.html' title='I Love Fat.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112993626668397951</id><published>2005-10-21T17:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-21T18:13:50.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And then there were Barbie and Ken!</title><content type='html'>I have a shiny unhinged fooooorest... and another non-shiny. Yay yay yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am apparently doing worship at Ado now. Yay yay yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The song Isaac and I are writing is amazing. Mostly on Isaac's part. Yay yay yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now have Chem with Meryl. And Chem and English with Jason. And no more personal attacks. Yay yay YAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm off to the football game, totally enthused by a new love for my Lord and inspired by the joy of His unending mercy! Adieu!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112993626668397951?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112993626668397951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112993626668397951' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112993626668397951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112993626668397951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/and-then-there-were-barbie-and-ken.html' title='And then there were Barbie and Ken!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112975646937822498</id><published>2005-10-19T15:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-19T16:15:50.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yum, aluminum! I mean, dog food!</title><content type='html'>I realize that I haven't made a good random, useless post in quite a while, so here we go! I shall jot down whatever thoughts come into this little head of mine and see what becomes of le poste...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was really sweet, it was vocations day, so not only did we have an awesome Mass with the coolest homily I've heard in a while, but we also had priests, nuns, and brothers come into our classes to speak and answer questions. I was happy because Sister Gianna Marie and Fr. Bill both came to my religion class, and Meryl and I ended up missing about ten minutes of lunch talking to Sister Gianna about religious life. It totally freaks me out, the possibility of a religious vocation. Odd indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided, and it has been voted that my old black comfy sweater is the best pillow everrrrrr in Krucina's class. Goodness, 3 dimensional algebra is a bore! I fell into a ridiculously sweet meditation on Pentecost during his class, and then fell somewhat asleep. Meh, I don't think it matters much...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Krucina, a guy from Wizards of the Coast is coming to Strategy Games tomorrow, apparently with an abundance of goodies... Thus, I get free Magic stuff and can keep true to my vow of never spending a cent on Magic! Yay! I also have this odd urge to make a deck. I don't know how, and I don't have cards, but oh well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm.... what else, what else? Oh yeah, the retreat is coming up. I am insanely PSYCHED because I know this is going to be sooo flipping fun to put together. It seems I've kind of taken over Alycia's leadership position, just kind of keeping things somewhat together and not-too-nuts and helping Lou and stuff. It will be fun. And I think I might be playing the girl in the rose skit again. I initially wanted to do the turn around skit, as I've done both of the other serious ones, but now I see that I connect to and understand the role in the rose skit sooo well, it is definitely what the Lord wants me to do! Also, I think it'll be really great to be able to work in ways that will go unnoticed to most. I don't know, the idea of unrecognized charity... it's way cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and Isaac and I are bringing our guitars, so you can hear the 3 or 4 songs I've written if you like, and the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;uber awesome&lt;/span&gt; song that we're collaborating on... haha my words, his music, both voices. Pure sweetness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Cleanse me with hyssop, that I may be pure; wash me, make me whiter than snow.&lt;br /&gt;Let me hear sounds of joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice. &lt;br /&gt;My sacrifice, God, is a broken spirit; God, do not spurn a broken, humbled heart!&lt;br /&gt;-Psalm 51&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112975646937822498?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112975646937822498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112975646937822498' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112975646937822498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112975646937822498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/yum-aluminum-i-mean-dog-food.html' title='Yum, aluminum! I mean, dog food!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112959970926528697</id><published>2005-10-17T20:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-17T20:47:19.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No, I'm Not Worshiping the Moon. =)</title><content type='html'>Tonight, tonight&lt;br /&gt;the moon will creep&lt;br /&gt;into the curious air&lt;br /&gt;though all the stars around her sleep&lt;br /&gt;A knowing smile she'll wear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, tonight&lt;br /&gt;the moon will dance&lt;br /&gt;to a tune that's not her own&lt;br /&gt;We'll lend her but a note of chance&lt;br /&gt;and leave her to her throne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, tonight&lt;br /&gt;the moon will wonder&lt;br /&gt;where the radiance lies&lt;br /&gt;For all the truth asunder&lt;br /&gt;makes no sense within her eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, tonight&lt;br /&gt;the moon will cry&lt;br /&gt;on beams of stolen dawn&lt;br /&gt;Her solace is the velvet sky&lt;br /&gt;that seems all but foregone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, tonight&lt;br /&gt;the moon will speak&lt;br /&gt;unto my crystal heart&lt;br /&gt;as does a mother to her child&lt;br /&gt;or lovers torn apart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, tonight&lt;br /&gt;the moon will fall&lt;br /&gt;into these little hands&lt;br /&gt;and tonight the moon will hear my call&lt;br /&gt;'O Holy Mother, take my plans!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112959970926528697?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112959970926528697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112959970926528697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112959970926528697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112959970926528697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/no-im-not-worshiping-moon.html' title='No, I&apos;m Not Worshiping the Moon. =)'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112952679598815432</id><published>2005-10-17T00:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-17T00:39:33.236-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ohhh... connections!</title><content type='html'>Today, I awoke and had no idea how many little connections were awaiting my scrutiny. Bah, I shall attempt to go into detail here, but I know I'll forget some things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so I begin. Ahem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever had a random string of words stuck in your head for no apparent reason, words that are seemingly uncorrelated until actually thought out? Yeah, that happens to me constantly, usually in my sleep. I have learned that usually the phrase has some significance and I should look into it further, otherwise it'll be stuck in my head like a broken record all day. So, I awake from a deep and dreamless sleep at about 2 in the afternoon. Yes, extremely late, even for me. I lay in bed for awhile with my eyes closed in something of a half-daze, half-slumber. Slowly, I begin repeating the phrase 'new paint rippington the 2nd' in my head. Over and over, without even realizing I'm doing it. Finally, about 15 minutes later, I recognize what wheels are turning about in my head and jump promptly onto Google for help. Usually, I Google the phrase that's in my head and click 'I'm Feeling Lucky,' finding some bit of insight or some fact I should be aware of. Today, however, that first link proves worthless, and I am somewhat baffled by the fact that my method might be merely coincidental. Of course, I know this is silly as it has worked so many times before and I honestly don't believe in coincidences. So I go back to the Google main page and stare at the screen wondering what to do. Finally, I come to an epiphany. I Google again, this time for the phrase '&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;new paint rippington&lt;/span&gt;.' I clicked on &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the 2nd&lt;/span&gt; link, and the first thing I read is the word 'Topaz.' Topaz is the birthstone that is considered the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Gem of the Setting Sun&lt;/span&gt;. In literary terms, the setting sun symbolizes &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the end&lt;/span&gt; of something. The word right below 'topaz' is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;October&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; and the number right beside that is $13.98, rounded to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;14. &lt;/span&gt;The second thing on the page that I notice is the statement in bold right beneath the word Topaz... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;'A change for the better.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus, the phrase 'new paint rippington' has led me to see that is important that I understand that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;October 14th was a change for the better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I go to the Youth Mass. As I walk into the Church about 5 minutes into the Mass, I feel like Christ is so far from me, like I am weak in faith for allowing myself to be broken. The Lord was strong amidst trial, yet I am not. I look around for a place to sit, and since I don't particularly enjoy sitting in pews with lots of people already in them, I slide into the end of the only empty pew in the back. Feeling weak and unworthy, I wonder how I could have possibly allowed myself to fall yet again, how I should have fixed my eyes upon Jesus the first time. Distracted by what seemed like movement behind me, I look up and realize that I am sitting within a foot of the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7th&lt;/span&gt; station: Jesus &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;falls a 2nd time. &lt;/span&gt;I have fallen and been broken &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;twice&lt;/span&gt;. I am not unworthy or isolated from Christ because of it, I am united and beautiful because of that suffering. Even Christ fell thrice. (And Christ suffered &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7 mortal wounds, &lt;/span&gt;the hematidrosis in Gethsemane, the crown of thorns, the scourging, the 3 nails, and the piercing with the lance.) Suffering is sanctifying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the Lord, He must have so much fun tinkering with my brain!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112952679598815432?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112952679598815432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112952679598815432' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112952679598815432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112952679598815432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/ohhh-connections.html' title='Ohhh... connections!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112949041380631412</id><published>2005-10-16T13:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-16T23:09:08.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Title-less Post</title><content type='html'>I refuse to write in the overly dramatic, cryptic lines of a typical upset female, because I find it rather odd when I read that kind of stuff. In fact, I think I refuse to write, period. It's extremely rare for me to not be able to formulate an idea or the words to express an idea, so perhaps my best bet right now would be to just step away from the whole blog thing for awhile. I don't know. Writing just doesn't seem like much fun. Which is scary, because guitar and piano and reading and Creative Writing Club (oops, I missed it.) and singing and photography and philosophy and apologetics seem to have no appeal right now either. I now understand why so many fall away from Antioch. Lord, give me the grace to persevere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I'm grounded from my cell for awhile, but my new voicemail message is indubitably awesome and I would be tres happy if I had a bunch of happy messages waiting for me when I get it back, so call and leave me one! =) (And yes, I know I can check my voicemail without my cell, but I won't remember to!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; I'm so tired but I can't sleep&lt;br /&gt;Standin' on the edge of something much too deep&lt;br /&gt;It's funny how we feel so much but cannot say a word&lt;br /&gt;We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard&lt;br /&gt;But I will remember you&lt;br /&gt;Will you remember me?&lt;br /&gt;Don't let your life pass you by&lt;br /&gt;Weep not for the memories&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/8317662-112949041380631412?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112949041380631412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112949041380631412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112949041380631412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112949041380631412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/another-title-less-post.html' title='Another Title-less Post'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112908744388434318</id><published>2005-10-11T16:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-11T23:17:27.240-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex, Lies, and Mass Manipulation</title><content type='html'>Awww, I'm in such a girly mood. How silly. This Antioch retreat was absolutely amazing, especially Chip and Virginia's chastity talk. Hearing it made me toooootally desire a pure, chaste, holy, wonderful courtship. They told their story and it is absolutely beautiful, every detail was wonderful because they set aside their personal 'wants' and allowed God to fulfill their &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;true &lt;/span&gt;desires. Wow, insanely awesome. I wish I could explain it more thoroughly, but I know that no words of mine could even begin to do their talk justice. It made me realize that I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;don't &lt;/span&gt;have to end up like my mother- broken and burdened by heartbreak. I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;know &lt;/span&gt;that the man I go on to marry is going to challenge me and encourage me to strive in my faith like nobody's business and will complement me, revealing to me a goodness on earth that will lead me to the Goodness beyond this earth. Wow, it's flipping amazing to think about!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also found a book on my bookshelf called 'Three To Get Married' by Fulton Sheen, an insane beast of a writer and a sweet bishop as well. He goes into the theological and philosophical aspects of love and marriage and it is so refining and enlightening to read. So far I'm only about 50 pages into it but holy wow, it's like Mountain Dew for the soul. Not only does it increase the desire to wait for a true and holy love, but it also makes more apparent the truth that love consists of not just romantic; in fact, it is least of all romantic, and greatest of all, charitable. (Haha so you can imagine my absolute shock when a guy from the retreat asked me out to dinner today.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My third point in this feminine spew of random nonsense is that this weekend is Sweetest Day, and I just watched one of the best romantic movies of all time. No, not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the Notebook, &lt;/span&gt;I hated that movie! &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sleepless In Seattle &lt;/span&gt;is an insanely awesome flick, and I just saw it for the first time tonight. However, I think all these chick-flicks are pretty much the equivalent of female porn. Since a guys' mind is hinged on sex and physical pleasure and piqued by sight, pornographic images are obviously the way to disturb and pervert his mind. But, as Sheen says so eloquently, "Man is driven by pleasure; woman by the meaning of pleasure." Women, myself included, do not pervert the act of sex itself, but rather, and possibly more importantly, we pervert the concept of love. The chick-flicks that are ever so popular amongst Catholic and non-Catholic women alike advertise love as a hallmark sentiment driven purely by emotions and having little to do with actual charity or agape love. It's all about the chivalry, the magic, the stars, the cute quotes, the ring, the dress, the sex. The media blasts (rather subtly) into our minds the idea that love is a feeling rather than a decision, a fleeting sensation rather than a permanent Christ-like choice. We females are twisted into thinking that love is all about the cute stuff, while males are twisted into thinking it's all about the passion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of scary to think about it that way, but there is, I believe, a remedy to the manipulation we've been fed. Ladies, with all the movies, books (ugh, I hate romance novels!), and TV shows (never actually seen Friends or the O.C., but I've heard that they're killers) that show us the 'ideal Prince Charming' situations, we can so often (but not always) break these messages down and understand why exactly we get all mushy and starry-eyed. Think about it. In &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the Notebook, &lt;/span&gt;why do most girls get all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when they find out that the elderly couple have been in love for so many years? Why do we cringe when the main character fights with her future husband, and cry of happiness when the husband and wife die in bed, together? It is because we subconsciouly &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know &lt;/span&gt;what God wants for us, we know what a holy relationship should be like! We smile at the fact that the husband remains with his wife, even when she has no recollection of who he is, because we know that love should be 'till death do us part.' We are filled with worry when the couple splits, because in our hearts we know that it isn't meant to be that way, that Satan is working to end something good. And the sight of the couple dying together symbolizes a permanence of the love they possess for one another, a passing of love from this life to the next. (As Chip said with tears in his eyes, "My grandfather couldn't live without my grandma, and I just... can't imagine my life without Virginia.") The world strives so desparately for the truth, and they are so close!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I hate to leave this with the whole choppied-off feeling again, but my hands hurt and I should be doing some reading. God bless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/fallenapple13/76314.html#cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112908744388434318?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112908744388434318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112908744388434318' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112908744388434318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112908744388434318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/sex-lies-and-mass-manipulation.html' title='Sex, Lies, and Mass Manipulation'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112856810827076019</id><published>2005-10-05T21:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-07T00:03:50.383-05:00</updated><title type='text'>'Oh look, Little Bo Peep From Hell! Watch as I stab thee with my staff!!'</title><content type='html'>Yay! Blogger has been revived! *Cheers*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I definitely learned what Sweetest Day was like half a year ago, and I totally adore the idea. In case you aren't aware, Sweetest Day is a holiday celebrated on the 3rd Saturday of October. (This year, that falls on October 15th.) The holiday was orginially a day to help the needy and underpriviledged/ show appreciation for loved ones and friends. Today, Sweetest Day has taken on the latter connotation, a day in which people can go crazy and make their friends and loved ones feel tres spesh. Like St. Valentine's Day, only it has less to do with romance and more to do with simple thankfulness and appreciation. Now, I'm sure sooo many people have deemed this a 'Hallmark Holiday,' but it definitely wasn't created by the greeting card company, and even if it was, who cares? I know I personally love holidays of all sorts, especially holidays where showing appreciation is involved! Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Valentine's Day have always been my faves, not only because of the atmosphere but also because it's a time that I can really let everyone know how much I care for 'em and let them know just how much they rock my freaking face off (aww, I miss MCQ)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend is the Antioch Retreat. I'm kind of comatose. Don't know if that's a good thing. I keep on thinking 'wow, we only have like 15 candidates... this is going to suck.' But then I catch myself and it hits me. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Who am I to confine the beauty of God's infinity to such a small space? Who am I to judge His works or critique His plan? &lt;/span&gt;Obviously, as Aaron has instructed me to tell everyone, the people who are meant to be on this retreat are going to be on this retreat, and those who want to come but cannot are obviously not at the point that God needs them to be at as of yet. Everything will be picture perfect in its execution as long as we step out of God's way and stop telling ourselves that numbers mean everything. I know I must eat my own words in this case, but really, the Antioch program is&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; designed&lt;/span&gt; for this many people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh look, what a lovely WERBILGERBAT!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, to recap:&lt;br /&gt;-Sweetest Day rocks. (October 15th)&lt;br /&gt;-Y'all have to remember to celebrate it. Yes, even you college peeps! Give your roommate a hug, call your parents just to say hello, or even leave your least favorite teacher an anonymous thank-you note. It's little things like that that can truly brighten someone's day and bring Christ to the world!&lt;br /&gt;-Antioch Retreat this weekend. Not very big.&lt;br /&gt;-I give my talk Saturday morning right after breakfast, pray that I get better!&lt;br /&gt;-God is... awesome.&lt;br /&gt;-Life is peachy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voila!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and &lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/fallenapple13/76219.html#cutid1"&gt;do this. really.&lt;/a&gt; You know you want to...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112856810827076019?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112856810827076019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112856810827076019' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112856810827076019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112856810827076019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/oh-look-little-bo-peep-from-hell-watch.html' title='&apos;Oh look, Little Bo Peep From Hell! Watch as I stab thee with my staff!!&apos;'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112852730400440338</id><published>2005-10-05T10:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-05T10:48:24.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Wonderful Waste of Photshop Time (aka How To Distract Hank v2.0)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Choose a band/artist and answer ONLY IN SONG TITLES by that band (you pick your own band or artist, dont use the same one as the person who did this before you). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Artist/Band: Newsboys&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you male or female: Elle G.&lt;br /&gt;Describe yourself: Step Up To The Microphone or Sing Aloud&lt;br /&gt;How do some people feel about you: Good Stuff&lt;br /&gt;How do you feel about yourself: Miracle Child&lt;br /&gt;Describe where you want to be: In Christ Alone&lt;br /&gt;Describe what you want: Love Liberty Disco&lt;br /&gt;Describe how you live: Live In Stereo&lt;br /&gt;Describe how you love: Landslide of Love&lt;br /&gt;Share a few words of wisdom: Boycott Hell&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112852730400440338?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112852730400440338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112852730400440338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112852730400440338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112852730400440338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/another-wonderful-waste-of-photshop.html' title='Another Wonderful Waste of Photshop Time (aka How To Distract Hank v2.0)'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112840477863484463</id><published>2005-10-04T00:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-04T00:46:18.640-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Been Dazed and Confused for so long it's not true...</title><content type='html'>Sosososososo jittery.... must... get... to... Adoration!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baaaah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*slaps face*&lt;br /&gt;*jumps around*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like one of the guys in the Demented Cartoon Movie... Like my heads just gonna randomly pop off. Yeah exactly like that, minus the kamikaze watermelons. We're out of watermelon, so instead I've got pineapples flying everywhere...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;zeegyboogydoo!&lt;br /&gt;*explodes with anticipation*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112840477863484463?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112840477863484463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112840477863484463' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112840477863484463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112840477863484463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/been-dazed-and-confused-for-so-long.html' title='Been Dazed and Confused for so long it&apos;s not true...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112831517947506699</id><published>2005-10-02T22:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T23:53:00.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Nonsense</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.&lt;br /&gt;-Kahlil Gibran (1883 - 1931)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/i&gt;She allowed her eyes to rest gently upon the page, the words serving as soft pillows for her gaze. The lines, they were written for her. No man alive could possibly know her situation, or understand her state. Each emotion was as unique as a cliche, rewritten for her own story in her own little way... And then the room stopped spinning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was different now, disillusioned. Surely, she wanted no more than to apply it to her own love life, her own personal story of separation and fear. Yet her circumstance, it seemed, was not deserving of such a dramatically truthful statement. Yes, he had been with her for miles, walking alongside as though his only destination was where she was headed. But she had tossed her heart like paper into his hat, and he continued walking without the knowledge of her absence. She wouldn't dare to hand over such a magnificent line for the sake of a few recollected memories. Not this time. This time, there was another. She had fallen again, into a deeper and more meaningful love than she could even fathom. The passion and comittment enraptured her, enfolded her in waves of ecstatic joy she had never known in all her years of happiness.  It was the separation from him, the rift of absence, that haunted her with adoration and longing for her beloved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She could take it no more. With a conclusive jolt, she raced back to the end, hoping for some remnant of what she'd left behind. And there amongst the rubble was his body, pierced and battered for her sake. She buried her face in his chest, knowing that it was her foolishness that brought about his death. And out of the indistinguishable darkness,  she whispered, 'I love you, my Jesus, I love you!.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112831517947506699?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112831517947506699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112831517947506699' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112831517947506699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112831517947506699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/10/random-nonsense.html' title='Random Nonsense'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112813653228016942</id><published>2005-09-30T21:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T22:17:21.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>His Eye Is On The Sparrow</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;"Are not five sparrows sold for two small coins? Yet not one of them has escaped the notice of God. Even the hairs of your head have all been counted. Do not be afraid. You are worth more than many sparrows."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toward the end of the 'brisk' run with my little brother tonight, I waved him on and stopped by the ever-so-familiar cornfield that I often find myself inexplicably drawn to. Sitting down behind the fringe of bushes, just out of sight, I stared up at the stars and immediately knew that God was there. It wasn't an emotional sensation, simply a feeling that Christ was saying &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Here. Now. This is where I want you.' &lt;/span&gt;It was rather incredible, I felt like I was experiencing unemotional emotion, devoid of the worldly glaze that has been over my heart the last several months. It was then that I immediately thought of these verses and stared out into the brilliant twilight as if for the first time. The sky was like the cashmere coat I've worn on one occasion, the horizon like a cutout with innumerable jagged edges. To think that the Lord created all of it, and not by the power of any supernatural Caterpillar or the genius of any programming language. He merely willed it all to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exist&lt;/span&gt;. It was God's daydream, His imagination creating the most beautiful of stories. And he knows each character and detail so intimately! We as humans have not the patience, nor the dexterity, nor the eyesight to count a single fraction of the hairs on our heads, yet Christ knows them all with His eyes closed and both hands tied behind His back (or nailed to a cross)! Perhaps if we learned and acknowledged His beautiful work we would be so much more willing to trust in His grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second thought, which struck me with the force of a hundred blows, was that of the eagerness God has to be with us. I was singing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hungry, &lt;/span&gt;a wonderful worship song, when a particular lyric jumped out at me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Hungry I come to you for I know you satisfy&lt;br /&gt;I am empty, but I know Your love does not run dry&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and so I wait for You, and so I wait for You...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt; The last line suddenly sounded very odd to me. Wait for Him? Why are we waiting for Him? Christ stands with His loving arms outstretched at every moment of every day, He is waiting for us! What an illusion we create when we act as though it is something &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He &lt;/span&gt;must do for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the people He has already given His life for. &lt;/span&gt;So often in worldly relationships, marriages, and friendships, when we are wronged by someone close to us, we are hurt and upset by the offense, believing that the validity of love is inversely proportional to how often we are hurt by it. But Christ- what a wonderful, beautiful, holy Father and Lover! He does not wait for us to come crawling back on hands and knees, doesn't wait to forgive until we take him to a nice restaurant or give Him what he wants. It is instantaneous and unstoppable love. We throw Him down by our sins and he jumps up, still begging and pleading for us to love Him. He sets a divine example and gives us all such a clear image: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love is not never being hurt, it is learning to constantly forgive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112813653228016942?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112813653228016942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112813653228016942' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112813653228016942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112813653228016942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/his-eye-is-on-sparrow.html' title='His Eye Is On The Sparrow'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112809371104300468</id><published>2005-09-30T10:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T15:47:34.993-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Way to Distract Hank...</title><content type='html'>1. Name someone with the same birthday as you: Claire Higginbotham! My twin!&lt;br /&gt;2. Where was your first kiss? Gym of Marian&lt;br /&gt;3. Have you ever seriously vandalized someone else's property? I do hope not&lt;br /&gt;4. Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex? Yeah *grins sheepishly* I'm somewhat violent&lt;br /&gt;5. Have you ever sang in front of a large number of people? Yay! I love it!&lt;br /&gt;6.Whats the first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Sense of humor&lt;br /&gt;7.What really turns you on? I'm not a robot, I don't come with an on/off button. Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;8.What do you usually order from starbucks? Do I go to Starbucks? That's a pretty rash speculation...&lt;br /&gt;9. What is your biggest mistake? The one I won't talk about on here.&lt;br /&gt;10. Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose? Yes, unfortunately.&lt;br /&gt;11. Say something totally random about you: I have recently discovered the hidden joy of bright, flow-y skirts and Twizzlers.&lt;br /&gt;12. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity? Yeah people used to tell me I looked like the Olsen twins, when my hair was lighter. (Psychos)&lt;br /&gt;13. Do you still watch kiddie movies or tv shows? Veggie Tales!&lt;br /&gt;14. Did you have braces? Still do, meh.&lt;br /&gt;15. Are you comfortable with your height? Sure?&lt;br /&gt;16. What is the most romantic thing someone of the opposite sex has done for/with you? Awww um Michael and I watched the stars a lot, does that count?&lt;br /&gt;17. When do you know it's love? Prayer, discernment. Prayer, discernment.&lt;br /&gt;18. Do you speak any other languages? French and American Sign Language&lt;br /&gt;19. Have you ever been to a tanning salon? Heck no! Does it look like it?&lt;br /&gt;20. What magazines do you read? I really like looking at those ridiculous tabloids in the checkout line at Meijer...&lt;br /&gt;21. Have you ever ridden in a limo? yes! Much fun!&lt;br /&gt;22.Has anyone you were really close with passed away? No.&lt;br /&gt;23.Do you watch mtv? hahahahahaha&lt;br /&gt;24.What's something that really annoys you? Disrespect for the sanctity of life, stupid people, superiority complexes ('cause I have one.)&lt;br /&gt;25. What's something you really like? Besides Jesus? Music.&lt;br /&gt;26.Do you like Michael Jackson? I like his hats and his dances.... sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;27.Can you dance? Oh heck yes I can dance! Swing, ballroom, break, you name it!&lt;br /&gt;28.What's the longest/latest you have ever stayed up? all nighter&lt;br /&gt;29.Have you ever thought that you were honestly going to die? Yeah, asthma attack at World Pulse Festival, asthma attack when I was little, and tornados.&lt;br /&gt;30.Have you ever been rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room? It's possible, but I dont' remember&lt;br /&gt;31. Do you actually read these when other people fill them out? Sometimes as I'm erasing the answers....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was really retarded, but what a lovely waste of Photoshop time it was!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112809371104300468?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112809371104300468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112809371104300468' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112809371104300468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112809371104300468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/one-way-to-distract-hank.html' title='One Way to Distract Hank...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112795372142048014</id><published>2005-09-28T19:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-28T22:56:58.810-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a Thought...</title><content type='html'>Do you know what jealousy is? Jealousy is having all the books in Barnes &amp; Noble except the one you want, the one that is sitting in someone else's stack of purchases. Jealousy is watching the person with the last concert ticket walk away from the window as you stand in front of a 'Sold out' sign. Jealousy is the bitterness that is experienced when you dislike that Barnes &amp;amp; Noble shopper or that innocent music fan, simply for what they have unknowingly taken away from you. Rarely does one stop to think that perhaps it is deserved, or perhaps it is in God's plan for it to happen that way. In the heat of an envious moment or experience, the malice and fear that strike the heart are not logical, proportional to the situation, or accurate in the slightest. They are, however, centered around one integral flaw: selfishness. Too self-concerned to sacrifice the book for the joy of another (or perhaps the wellbeing of the book), too inward to allow another to experience the thrill of a concert, one often doesn't even recognize the havoc this vice wreaks on the soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'O LORD, wash away my iniquities and cleanse me of my sinfulness!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112795372142048014?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112795372142048014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112795372142048014' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112795372142048014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112795372142048014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/just-thought.html' title='Just a Thought...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112779411887300681</id><published>2005-09-26T23:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-27T22:54:45.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What's another word for bored? Dying? Yeah that's a good one...</title><content type='html'>...and sure, I could be memorizing presidents or finishing Sleepless In Seattle, but as I said, I am bored, not desperate. Plus, I just ran two miles for the first time since the World Pulse Festival incident, and now I believe my innards may just jump out of my body and spontaneously combust at any moment. My lovely little brother and I ran it together, so as is eternally fitting and proper, the last one back to the house conceded the victory and much-coveted respect to the winner. I came in only 5 feet or so behind him, but I am still flinching from the shame of losing to a (fast) 13-year-old. I also look like hell. Imagine me. Now imagine me after being stranded in the rainforest for 2 months. That is what I look like now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and Meryl makes me incredibly happy. She's been spending our Sacraments classes (which are the most pointless blocks of 50 minutes on the face of this earth) writing letters to her college friends. Now, as much as I hate to be a sheep, I loooove snail mail and all my college frineds, so if you guys don't mind getting a letter from me, IM or email me your contact address and I shall write you with my astoundingly entertaining wit.... ish. Yeah! Oh and as Fabby Abulous has already proven, you don't have to be a college kid to get a letter, so there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, for your reading torment, and evidence of my absolute maddening boredom/laziness. Stolen from Jacki on LJ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;( &lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/fallenapple13/75237.html#cutid1"&gt;Read more... &lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Hm, that was a good waste of half an hour. AIM is addicting. 7 IM screens is far too many though. Far too many. *shakes head* On a side note, cell phones are really, really cool. Talk about a distraction....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God bless guys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112779411887300681?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112779411887300681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112779411887300681' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112779411887300681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112779411887300681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/whats-another-word-for-bored-dying.html' title='What&apos;s another word for bored? Dying? Yeah that&apos;s a good one...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112759553666589487</id><published>2005-09-24T15:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-25T11:19:08.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Think of Things That Taste Like Pride...</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I wanted to use that idea from Michael's post, and this is what I came up with. Tell me what you think!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fashioned of a finer gold&lt;br /&gt;we are the hands that will not fold&lt;br /&gt;Our fingers dance with misery&lt;br /&gt;to music that we cannot see&lt;br /&gt;We grieve over our sins' remains&lt;br /&gt;in valleys flooded by the rains&lt;br /&gt;but water that comes crashing down&lt;br /&gt;is muddy, and it makes us drown&lt;br /&gt;Our lips, they bear the taste of pride&lt;br /&gt;so sweetly sick, our thoughts collide&lt;br /&gt;and soon our lust for something true&lt;br /&gt;is death that we ourselves imbue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't feel like updating again, so here's an edit. I wrote this on the fly, but I quite like it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Behold her&lt;br /&gt;in the light of reality&lt;br /&gt;She is not the dove that's&lt;br /&gt;taken flight&lt;br /&gt;nor the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;fifteen miles&lt;br /&gt;from the storm&lt;br /&gt;Rather, she is the&lt;br /&gt;word 'home' upon a&lt;br /&gt;lonely beak,&lt;br /&gt;a glimmering&lt;br /&gt;gold horizon&lt;br /&gt;peeking through a&lt;br /&gt;shattered sky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112759553666589487?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112759553666589487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112759553666589487' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112759553666589487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112759553666589487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/think-of-things-that-taste-like-pride.html' title='Think of Things That Taste Like Pride...'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112745083735829235</id><published>2005-09-22T23:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T23:47:17.366-05:00</updated><title type='text'>NOTE TO SELF:</title><content type='html'>Now-and-Laters and braces do not make the best of friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112745083735829235?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112745083735829235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112745083735829235' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112745083735829235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112745083735829235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/note-to-self.html' title='NOTE TO SELF:'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112736733532719539</id><published>2005-09-22T00:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T00:41:10.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you remember when we used to sing&gt;</title><content type='html'>Sha la la la la la la la la lala dee da... (No, it's not Blue-Eyed Girl, Justin!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well well well, I have come to post. I'm pretty sure there's a whole one person, maybe two, who read this anymore, but oh well. It's nice to get things down online for some reason, much more comforting than a written journal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was thinking the other day (no, not 'what if cartoons got saved?') about how strange it would be if I were born anywhere else. I can't even imagine a life apart from the one I have now. And it baffles me to think that if I'd have made any given decision differently, I would be totally different than I am now. I can think of a hundred opportunities I've taken, words I've spoken, or people I've met that I know have drastically changed the rest of my life. It's scary and strange but amazing and beautiful all at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what I love? Cheesecake. Definitely some of the best food on earth! *nods* I mean, I don't like cheese very much (except on burgers and pizza and when it's the nacho kind), and I don't like cake, but somehow the combination is wooooonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm, you guys need to give me some inspiration, I don't know what to write about for Creative Writing Club. Speaking of which, a little ditty courtesy of an anonymous disgruntled poet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stop and see the light is red&lt;br /&gt;oh how I wish that I was dead!&lt;br /&gt;Maybe if I go real fast&lt;br /&gt;That first club meeting will be my last!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Le Fin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112736733532719539?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112736733532719539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112736733532719539' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112736733532719539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112736733532719539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/do-you-remember-when-we-used-to-sing.html' title='Do you remember when we used to sing&gt;'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112717541250319631</id><published>2005-09-19T19:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T19:16:52.510-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Boredededed.</title><content type='html'>I feel very indifferent at the moment. I am neither hot nor cold, neither ecstatic nor heartbroken, neither hyper nor tired. It really is quite an interesting dilemma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are seven water bottles sitting in a row upon my desk. Dasani, Ice Mountain, Aquafina, and a little obscure bottle that appears to be Ice Mountain, but has no label because I got bored. They stare intently at me as I sit here and type, and I think they're prodding me telepathically. They seem to be quite lazy. Incidentally, I have yet again forgotten that I have Sacraments homework. Luckily, however, I have an independent study computer class right before, so even when I slack off I get extra credit for typing assignments- hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh boy, the bottles are singing in 3-part harmony. And the one without a label's name is Maurice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112717541250319631?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112717541250319631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112717541250319631' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112717541250319631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112717541250319631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/boredededed.html' title='Boredededed.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112700087578388065</id><published>2005-09-17T18:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-17T18:47:55.816-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Open the driving utensil!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Okay, for Meryl's sake I have begun updating my LiveJournal again, which leaves me with way too many websites to keep track of: Blogger, Myspace, LiveJournal, Facebook, WeAdore, Phatmass, and Xanga. Insanity I tell you! In any case, I've been double-tagged on LJ for this thing, so I'll post it on here as well. Some of the answers may or may not make sense, you'd have to read them in context of my Livejournal to understand them. Oh well,enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From &lt;span class="ljuser" style="white-space: nowrap;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=poppit"&gt;&lt;img src="http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif" alt="[info]" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: bottom;" height="17" width="17" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/poppit/"&gt;&lt;b&gt;poppit&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Write 20 random facts about yourself then tag the same amount of people as minutes it takes you to write the facts.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;Start time: 6:26pm&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;1: I am in a very odd situation in which I have been in luff but I'm not sure if I should be or am in luff anymore. I am still very happy. (If you don't know the meaning of luff, talk to Meryl or myself.)&lt;br /&gt;2: I am very passionate about my Roman Catholic faith, though I often feel very weak in it.&lt;br /&gt;3. I've been told I have a way with words.&lt;br /&gt;4. Music is poetry on steroids. I write both.&lt;br /&gt;5. Know-it-alls drive me up the wall.&lt;br /&gt;6. I am a huge know-it-all.&lt;br /&gt;7. I'm extremely sheltered in some aspects and overexposed in others.&lt;br /&gt;8. I'm a ridiculously insane hopeless (hopeful?) romantic. It will probably be the death of me.&lt;br /&gt;9. I want to live in Rome when I get older. I also want to visit England, Alaska, and Ireland.&lt;br /&gt;10. My mom is bipolar schizophrenic with borderline personality/identity disorder. She's amazingly cool.&lt;br /&gt;11. Rain, Celtic music, and pleasant surprises make me extremely happy!&lt;br /&gt;12. I am synesthetic (yes, that's a real word), which means I taste colors and hear shapes.&lt;br /&gt;13. I'm scared to death of being left by those I care for.&lt;br /&gt;14. I'm an elitist, which is why I will never go back to living with my mother.&lt;br /&gt;15. I've been told that I think with my head. I've always wondered what else I could possibly think with...&lt;br /&gt;16. Photography, piano, and chivalry are some of the best things on earth.&lt;br /&gt;17. I adore green tea, hate chai.&lt;br /&gt;18. I used to think I was extremely friendly, and had a ton of friends. Then I met Meryl. =)&lt;br /&gt;19. I love pro-life work, and the unborn!&lt;br /&gt;20. I don't like dismal colors. Chartreuse green, neon blue and yellow are a few of my favorites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    End time: 6:40pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, there's no way in heck I'm tagging 14 people...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tags&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=chrismas007"&gt;&lt;img src="http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif" alt="[info]" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: bottom;" height="17" width="17" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/chrismas007/"&gt;&lt;b&gt;chrismas007&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=nosferatia"&gt;&lt;img src="http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif" alt="[info]" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: bottom;" height="17" width="17" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/nosferatia/"&gt;&lt;b&gt;nosferatia&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=devastatedsoul"&gt;&lt;img src="http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif" alt="[info]" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: bottom;" height="17" width="17" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/devastatedsoul/"&gt;&lt;b&gt;devastatedsoul&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=_silent_statue_"&gt;&lt;img src="http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif" alt="[info]" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: bottom;" height="17" width="17" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/_silent_statue_/"&gt;&lt;b&gt;_silent_statue_&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://shards_of_a_crystal.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mike&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://truenirvana.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Skippy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://nakedants.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Michael&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://dreamingeveryday.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Jen&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://uglyfool.blogspot.com"&gt;Alex&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://xanga.com/setablaze"&gt;Bridgett&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://xanga.com/zigzaggedywoopwoop"&gt;Mira&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112700087578388065?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112700087578388065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112700087578388065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112700087578388065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112700087578388065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/open-driving-utensil.html' title='Open the driving utensil!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112662572903508827</id><published>2005-09-13T10:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-13T17:21:53.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Song For A Savior</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;In open fields of wild flowers,&lt;br /&gt;she breathes the air and flies away&lt;br /&gt;She thanks her Jesus for the daises and the roses&lt;br /&gt;in no simple language&lt;br /&gt;Someday she'll understand the meaning of it all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's more than the laughter or the stars in the heavens&lt;br /&gt;As close as a heartbeat or a song on her lips&lt;br /&gt;Someday she'll trust Him and learn how to see Him&lt;br /&gt;Someday He'll call her and she will come running&lt;br /&gt;and fall in His arms and the tears will fall down and she'll pray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to fall in love in love with You! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-Jars of Clay-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;It's far too tempting, with all the changes taking place around me, to want to find something new myself. Several of my friends seem to be getting involved with new relationships, and it makes me really want that back. The thrill of finding out that someone is attracted to me, the joy of feeling special to someone, the ability to grow closer to Christ with and through another while making sacrifices for their sake... I miss all of these things. But this song helps to remind me that I have soooo much growing to do before I get into my next relationship, and I need to fall soooo much more deeply in love with the Lord before I can even attempt to give my heart to someone else. He's just waiting to show me what it feels like to be loved by a King, and how to love like a true Princess. Christ is the essence of perfection, the most ideal man to walk the earth. Imagine what kind of love story Love incarnate could write! It blows my mind to think of it. Praise God!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112662572903508827?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112662572903508827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112662572903508827' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112662572903508827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112662572903508827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/love-song-for-savior.html' title='Love Song For A Savior'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112624322631558376</id><published>2005-09-09T00:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T00:20:26.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Roma Roma Roma!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/rome03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y165/CelestialJuliet/rome03.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Rome. The Trevi Fountain.&lt;br /&gt;In case y'all didn't know this already, I decided like last week that I'm definitely moving to Rome at some point in my life. Dude, daily Mass at the Vatican. Beautiful scenery. Epicness up the wazoozoo. Pope. Pope's friends. Good bread. No tornados or blimps. I win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This kind of coincides with Skippy's future jobs post: If you had the opportunity to live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? (I feel like an essay question when I ask it that way...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112624322631558376?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112624322631558376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112624322631558376' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112624322631558376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112624322631558376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/roma-roma-roma.html' title='Roma Roma Roma!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112615322420893175</id><published>2005-09-07T23:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T23:20:24.213-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Call to Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Men are called to act as Christ acted for the Church. Women are called to act as the Church acts for Christ. What do we have, then?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Men-called to sacrifice, leadership, headship, assertiveness, chivalry, love and respect of womanhood and all women, willingness to give up their whole lives for their wives, teaching their children and others in the way of faith in a paternalistic role (giving the faith and outlining it), humility (in order to lead properly and not lord it over), willingness never to let the wife fall, etc.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Women-called to love, humility (in order to follow and trust), trust, hope, willingness never to give up (as the Church persists), comforting, nurturing, ever-faithful, disciplining, caring for spiritual children by supporting and preserving the faith in them, overing herself completely over to the husband (so that she may all the more receive him, who must offer the same to her), etc."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read this on the Phatmass forum today, and it really kind of got to me. I think it's something I rarely take into account, the fact that in all my tomboyishness my vocation is to be the female that I was created as. Interesting. Any thoughts?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112615322420893175?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112615322420893175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112615322420893175' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112615322420893175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112615322420893175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/our-call-to-love.html' title='Our Call to Love'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112606777284244909</id><published>2005-09-06T23:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-06T23:36:12.846-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I love writing essays!</title><content type='html'>OH!  My poor little blog, I have missed you so! The internet, in its vile, villainous ways, lefteth you wounded and bleeding a sea of white upon the screen that should have been your home. Yet I rejoice... Thou wert dead (for two hours), but now thou art alive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Thou wert? Justin, what the crap kind of Olde English is that? You and your litters and throne-seat-thingies-held-up-by-2-shirtless-men-for-the-king-dude need to perish in the bowels of grammatical hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that Southern accents mix well with made up knock-knock jokes, but I still don't know what a powdermuffin is...   definitely another word for aphrodisiac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living in a box,&lt;br /&gt;BS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.-talks are hard. Pray for me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112606777284244909?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112606777284244909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112606777284244909' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112606777284244909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112606777284244909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-love-writing-essays.html' title='I love writing essays!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112598323637248401</id><published>2005-09-06T00:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-06T20:35:36.020-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="postbody"&gt;&lt;span style="color: brown;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;From Underneath I wanted you&lt;br /&gt;To see the first thing I ever poured my heart into&lt;br /&gt;You’ll never know the pain that I’ve been through&lt;br /&gt;I’m not so sure you’ll ever know&lt;br /&gt;And so I’ll make you understand the words that built my life&lt;br /&gt;Were not from you, but from my father’s hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember that cold day in December&lt;br /&gt;Leaving everything you knew behind&lt;br /&gt;I may never know how it feels to stand beside you&lt;br /&gt;Or take your hand when I need some direction&lt;br /&gt;And I may never know what it’s like to see you smile back at me&lt;br /&gt;Or know you’d be proud of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From underneath I promise to erase the past&lt;br /&gt;And let my heart forgive the former you&lt;br /&gt;Replace the dark of old and start brand new&lt;br /&gt;I never thought I’d see the day&lt;br /&gt;I walk toward the end of life and turn the other way&lt;br /&gt;I’m reaching out to take my Father’s hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;From Meryl to Me. By Hawk Nelson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meryl, thank you for the whack of poetic empathy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&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/8317662-112598323637248401?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112598323637248401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112598323637248401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112598323637248401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112598323637248401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/from-underneath-i-wanted-you-to-see.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112590428740343157</id><published>2005-09-05T02:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T21:56:32.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow, what a freewrite.</title><content type='html'>I'm cold and too tired to sleep&lt;br /&gt;so I'll wait till I'm too deep to fall anymore&lt;br /&gt;I know the more that I think&lt;br /&gt;is the more that I sink to the floor&lt;br /&gt;hard notes are flying&lt;br /&gt;put them together&lt;br /&gt;glued on the solid white walls&lt;br /&gt;here I fall&lt;br /&gt;singing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Save me&lt;br /&gt;heartache is too much&lt;br /&gt;all I need is Your touch&lt;br /&gt;to save me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I'd been advised&lt;br /&gt;but my ignorance seemed so wise at the time&lt;br /&gt;now I walk in the valley&lt;br /&gt;I stumble and can't seem to climb&lt;br /&gt;It's my own mistake&lt;br /&gt;but the error's unknown&lt;br /&gt;and the longest way around&lt;br /&gt;is the shortest way home&lt;br /&gt;crying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take me&lt;br /&gt;Hidden in sorrow&lt;br /&gt;You'll find my tomorrow and&lt;br /&gt;take me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foolish tears, don't fall for no one&lt;br /&gt;don't fall for someone who won't care&lt;br /&gt;No more running in circles&lt;br /&gt;telling ourselves that they're square&lt;br /&gt;I blame myself&lt;br /&gt;for every reaction&lt;br /&gt;I've always known I'm a mess to be made&lt;br /&gt;Begging&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Break me&lt;br /&gt;shatter my hope and&lt;br /&gt;I will be open so&lt;br /&gt;break me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Save me&lt;br /&gt;Take me&lt;br /&gt;Break me&lt;br /&gt;all for You&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112590428740343157?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112590428740343157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112590428740343157' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112590428740343157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112590428740343157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/wow-what-freewrite.html' title='Wow, what a freewrite.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112586428341607267</id><published>2005-09-04T14:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-04T15:08:39.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bittersweet September</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;"Those who try to hang on when God is trying to move on will always be miserable. "&lt;br /&gt;-Joyce Meyer&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How am I to talk about being made &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In His Image&lt;/span&gt; if I know not who I am myself? September will be so beautifully bittersweet, discerning my identity in Christ while slowly recalling who I was before the summer. Such is the art of letting go, learning to live like a child, without the concept of yesterday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112586428341607267?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112586428341607267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112586428341607267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112586428341607267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112586428341607267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/09/bittersweet-september.html' title='Bittersweet September'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112545833296185757</id><published>2005-08-30T20:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T23:20:35.926-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Beauty Is Outside the Eye of the Child</title><content type='html'>I went for a walk in the beautiful almost-autumn air yesterday, and I was absolutely astonished by the evening sky. Smeared across the ceiling of blue appeared whisps and smudges of the most radiant pinks and golds I have ever seen, casting an ethereal glow on everything below. The intricacy was amazing, more detailed and concise than any work of man, yet carefree and liberated in itself. It was upon stopping at the top of my street to get a good look that I was beside myself in awe. The clouds were waves, an upside-down ocean in the sky. They curled and tumbled outward, expanding to meet an undefined horizon somewhere above my head; I could almost hear the crashing, and I wished to open my arms and dive upward into the sea. Who else, I thought out loud, could have ever imagined such a scene? No fine-tipped brush in Photoshop or earthly artists' tool could ever accomplish such magnificence, or even come close. It was a work of objective beauty that held in itself a distinct song. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"The heavens are telling the glory of God, and all creation is shouting for joy..." &lt;/span&gt;How true! How sad it is that so many can behold something like this and yet deny the existence of its Creator. The artist had crafted at whim a piece more perfect than words can describe, and each stroke proclaimed His love to the world! It was not just a simple delight for Him, it was a way for Him to communicate with us, His children. "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Be still, and know that I am God&lt;/span&gt;," He beckoned with each shape and shade.&lt;p&gt; But we are, at times, like Helen Keller as a child. Blind, deaf, and mute to the Father's true presence, we absorb the scenery with our limited senses, only understanding a fraction of what is there. But God does not leave us. In His infinite love beyond comprehension, He grabs our hands, spelling it out and repeating His lesson: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"L-o-v-e. This is what love is." &lt;/span&gt;But we do not make the connection, we simply sign it back and eat our cake. So often we look to the sky, nod in approval, and move on, not taking time to contemplate what the Lord has so aptly placed in front of us. The water pours forth from the pump and splashes everywhere, like the clouds from some unindentifiable vanishing point. It is there, tangible and real, but so many still do not know its name. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"L-o-v-e," &lt;/span&gt;the Lord cries to the world, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;it is who I am and why I come, it is the living water that pours forth, it has a name!" &lt;/span&gt;Christ has poured forth His Spirit upon the earth, and given His life so that we might know His name. He has revealed Himself through the world in which we live. How long will it be till we make the connection?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;blockquote&gt;   &lt;p&gt; Praise the Lord from the earth, you sea monsters and all deep waters;&lt;br /&gt;You lightning and hail, snow and clouds, storm winds that fulfill his command;&lt;br /&gt;You mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars;&lt;br /&gt;You animals wild and tame, you creatures that crawl and fly;&lt;br /&gt;You kings of the earth and all peoples, princes and all who govern on earth;&lt;br /&gt;Young men and women too, old and young alike.&lt;br /&gt;Let them all praise the Lord's name, for his name alone is exalted, majestic above earth and heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;-Pslam 148:7-13&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;dl compact="compact"&gt; &lt;dt&gt;&lt;a name="v11"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/dt&gt; &lt;/dl&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112545833296185757?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112545833296185757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112545833296185757' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112545833296185757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112545833296185757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/beauty-is-outside-eye-of-child.html' title='Beauty Is Outside the Eye of the Child'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112524953176722653</id><published>2005-08-28T11:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-28T13:51:44.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I LOVE OLD SPICE.</title><content type='html'>I have discovered a magic power that has long been hidden from the world. I can detect the faintest hint of Old Spice from 10 feet away. Really, even if someone put it on 12 hours ago, I can totally tell they're wearing it. That stuff is soooooooo good. I think I'm obsessed with it. Quick, intervention!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additionally, I love my friends. They are indubitably the coolest people ever, which is obviously why they're friends with me. Cool people attract, yo. Yesterday was ridiculously fun, even though it took us a half an hour to decide upon doing anything. We went to Blair's and watched Secondhand Lions, which is a pretty mediocre movie, but the best part was cramming Blair, Timmy, Aaron, Mary Cate, Bunsalot, Tuskey, Will, Justin, Eric, Joe and me into the teensy basement. Much fun! And MC and I totally need to spend more time together, I miss our SMS days *sniff*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woooonder how the Steubie peeps are doing... I haven't talked to any of them since Wednesday, which is enough to make me cry bloody murder. Skippy says to call 'em, but I think that's pretty ridiculous because if they wanted to talk, they'd call or get online or whatever. Oh well, I think Claire and Jags and Blair and I are all heading over in September sometime, so it's all good. Oh yeah, and I'm pretty sure Skippy and Nat are coming home for Labor day, yaaaaaay! Praise God!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDIT: Talked to Monsieur Miller en le phone. Now feeling: Stupid, juvenile, and a little more stupid. I suppose it shall all pass, but sometimes all I can do is put on the mask of indifference and hope that eventually I won't be worth it anymore. The Lord is revealing to me, however, that this mask isn't as comfortable as it once was, and the drama that I create to veil my own fear is going to tear away soon. *sings* &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It was a beautiful letdown...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, by the way, that really sweet post is still under construction, I'm making it into an uberpost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AWKWARD TURTLE! (We're totally doing it at prom)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough of me for one day,&lt;br /&gt;BS&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112524953176722653?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112524953176722653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112524953176722653' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112524953176722653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112524953176722653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/i-love-old-spice.html' title='I LOVE OLD SPICE.'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112511396128331373</id><published>2005-08-26T22:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-26T22:39:21.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Life Is Complete</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Giant Penguin says:&lt;/span&gt;'you win'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112511396128331373?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112511396128331373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112511396128331373' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112511396128331373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112511396128331373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/my-life-is-complete.html' title='My Life Is Complete'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112495210056043507</id><published>2005-08-25T01:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-25T18:31:29.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;I am the faith in your believing&lt;br /&gt;I am the color of truth&lt;br /&gt;I am the dreamer of your dreams&lt;br /&gt;I am the falling in your love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Danielle Rose, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;God Is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112495210056043507?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112495210056043507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112495210056043507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112495210056043507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112495210056043507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/i-am-faith-in-your-believing-i-am.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112477149747391211</id><published>2005-08-22T23:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-22T23:31:37.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ta da! New linkie! I am so happy. Kinda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate stuff. Kinda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I l*** (lol Meryl) stuff, without a doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uber cool post will be coming around on Thursday or Friday, I just need some time to pray and get Michael out of my hair before I write it. Adieu y'all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112477149747391211?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112477149747391211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112477149747391211' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112477149747391211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112477149747391211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/ta-da-new-linkie-i-am-so-happy.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112448349202813152</id><published>2005-08-19T15:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-19T15:31:32.503-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>As per usual, I am lacking in punctuality. Link hasn't changed yet, but oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112448349202813152?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112448349202813152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112448349202813152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112448349202813152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112448349202813152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/as-per-usual-i-am-lacking-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112424680335831071</id><published>2005-08-16T21:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-16T21:46:43.406-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beginning Should Have Ended Long Ago</title><content type='html'>Lord,&lt;br /&gt;My timing's faded, fallen out of style&lt;br /&gt;but I still wait for Your holy breath&lt;br /&gt;Like a child, I sit&lt;br /&gt;and drink up the silence&lt;br /&gt;that You have poured&lt;br /&gt;I pick up my insecurities,&lt;br /&gt;lay them in piles at your feet,&lt;br /&gt;and finally surrender with a single conscious thought-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I am not mine to fix.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112424680335831071?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112424680335831071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112424680335831071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112424680335831071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112424680335831071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/beginning-should-have-ended-long-ago.html' title='The Beginning Should Have Ended Long Ago'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112400479485687266</id><published>2005-08-14T02:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-14T12:13:36.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dear Watermelon Lippy,&lt;br /&gt;    You do not taste as yummy as I thought. You taste like watermelon on my lips, but in my mouth you taste like plastic. Please do not tempt me so, as I think ingesting too much of you may be a bad thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Erin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112400479485687266?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112400479485687266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112400479485687266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112400479485687266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112400479485687266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/dear-watermelon-lippy-you-do-not-taste.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112374319188250021</id><published>2005-08-11T00:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T01:56:21.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wake Up And Smell The Sheepiness!</title><content type='html'>Hokay, so. This is my new and improved-ish blog. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Breakaway Blue Sheep.&lt;/span&gt; Yippee, I love it very much. However, I have neither the time nor the energy to describe it in much detail, so I guess it all comes down to the fact that I am a breakaway blue sheep. Not your boring old white, but not bad and black either. Something different from the norm, yet acceptable and bright. And although I am a sheep, I am not a follower sheep. Screw the flock, I shall forge my own paths. That said, onward we go!&lt;br /&gt;As you can see, the layout is quite simple. It probably won't change much in the future. The banner, however, will be changed frequently. The cute little sheep logo will remain, but the font and subtitle will change according to season, holiday, event, mood, or any other weird ideas that may pop into my head.&lt;br /&gt;  As for the domain and link, I'll be changing it next Thursday. Got it? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thursday!&lt;/span&gt; I'm still undecided as to what to do for the address, though. There are several options, including &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;breakawaybs.blogspot.com&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;breakaway.blogspot.com, BBsheep.blogspot.com, breakawayblue.blogspot.com, and several others.&lt;/span&gt; Comment with ideas and stuff, or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luff,&lt;br /&gt;Moi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.-Dude, I could totaly use BlueSheep as a pseudonym. Oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112374319188250021?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112374319188250021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112374319188250021' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112374319188250021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112374319188250021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/wake-up-and-smell-sheepiness.html' title='Wake Up And Smell The Sheepiness!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112313845064790578</id><published>2005-08-04T01:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T02:44:41.833-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The end of the technological line</title><content type='html'>I don't know what's happened between me and my computer, Presario. Things just aren't the same anymore. Today I sat down and tried to have a nice chat with him, but he wouldn't respond, just mumbled something about being busy and overloaded. Perhaps the fact that we spend so much time together has made us too comfortable, or maybe he's getting sick of taking all my orders. (I can be rather bossy when I want to get things done my way.) Regardless, I think I'm going to have to break it off. He's just not keeping up with my needs anymore, always lagging and wanting to sleep. I don't know how he'll handle it though. He's worried that I'm leaving him for a younger, faster, no-cords-attached relationship (which I may very well do). I'm going to miss him though. I mean, I may push his buttons every time we're together, but we've had some good times. *sniff* Maybe we just need some time apart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112313845064790578?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112313845064790578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112313845064790578' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112313845064790578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112313845064790578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/end-of-technological-line.html' title='The end of the technological line'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112305394313133132</id><published>2005-08-03T01:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T02:00:33.636-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's been one of those days&lt;br /&gt;that I just can't explain&lt;br /&gt;unbreakable sorrow&lt;br /&gt;ignited with pain&lt;br /&gt;The shadows around me&lt;br /&gt;are no longer sleeping&lt;br /&gt;they dance and they speak of&lt;br /&gt;the secret they're keeping&lt;br /&gt;My smile has held it&lt;br /&gt;so long that I'm jaded&lt;br /&gt;fumbling for words that&lt;br /&gt;have worn, torn, and faded&lt;br /&gt;This something is nothing&lt;br /&gt;so why does it thrive?&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it's my terror&lt;br /&gt;that keeps it alive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDIT: My apologies guys, haha my day wasn't half as horrible as I made it sound!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112305394313133132?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112305394313133132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112305394313133132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112305394313133132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112305394313133132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/08/its-been-one-of-those-days-that-i-just.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112286663574676316</id><published>2005-07-31T22:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-02T12:18:47.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This isn't erin!!!</title><content type='html'>This is awesome. Erin made that last blogpost on my computer, and didn't log out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for today, your host will be none other than &lt;strike&gt;Michael, otherwise known as leahciM at www.nakedants.blogspot.com.&lt;/strike&gt; Erin, who has returned to her blog and discovered the absolute basketcase it has become after being kidnapped by a random stranger. It was shuddering in a corner humming lullabies to itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For today, I shall list Erin's &lt;strike&gt;deficiencies. Her MANY deficiencies.&lt;/strike&gt; wonderful qualities&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. She's &lt;strike&gt;fat&lt;/strike&gt; got an amazingly attractive body&lt;br /&gt;2. She talks a lot&lt;br /&gt;3. She has no idea when she is being &lt;strike&gt;annoying&lt;/strike&gt; cute&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strike&gt;She has no idea I'm doing this&lt;/strike&gt; He has no idea I'm doing this&lt;br /&gt;5. She's &lt;strike&gt;awful at magic&lt;/strike&gt; learning Magic with much celerity&lt;br /&gt;6. She's &lt;strike&gt;not very smart&lt;/strike&gt; more intelligent than I could ever hope to be&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;strike&gt;She thinks&lt;/strike&gt; People like her &lt;strike&gt;(LOL)&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. She &lt;strike&gt;tries so hard to be funny... but she just simply isn't&lt;/strike&gt; is incredibly funny when she gets hyper, random, or tired&lt;br /&gt;9. She looks like &lt;strike&gt;old cabbage&lt;/strike&gt; Liv Tyler mixed with Anna Kournikova&lt;br /&gt;10. She &lt;strike&gt;can't take care of herself-&lt;/strike&gt; lets me feel like I'm important. -I &lt;strike&gt;have&lt;/strike&gt; get to drive her everywhere!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There, I think 10 is enough, what do you guys think. Now that I've commandeered her blog (I'm thinking of changing her password), please leave helpful comments so I know where you want this blog to go (it was so horribly boring before earlier).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;leahciM, the &lt;strike&gt;new host&lt;/strike&gt; bane of the existence of Deaf World Megaphone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EAT THAT, LEMURBOY.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112286663574676316?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112286663574676316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112286663574676316' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112286663574676316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112286663574676316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/07/this-isnt-erin.html' title='This isn&apos;t erin!!!'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112261707512911174</id><published>2005-07-29T01:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T01:14:03.820-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Thee Behind Me</title><content type='html'>Darkness, bury your sinister face&lt;br /&gt;this smile is scared of the silence of space&lt;br /&gt;Your venom is stale like the bread I devour&lt;br /&gt;Each morsel so empty, so vile and sour&lt;br /&gt;Out of the pocket and onto the trail&lt;br /&gt;reminders that you'll be the first one to fail&lt;br /&gt;I'll dance in the moonlight and sing your mistake&lt;br /&gt;You've forgotten that this soul is not yours to take.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112261707512911174?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112261707512911174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112261707512911174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112261707512911174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112261707512911174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/07/get-thee-behind-me.html' title='Get Thee Behind Me'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112218993610289915</id><published>2005-07-24T02:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T02:25:36.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Burning flesh feels ironically like having all circulation cut off. How quaint.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112218993610289915?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112218993610289915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112218993610289915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112218993610289915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112218993610289915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/07/burning-flesh-feels-ironically-like.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112210477550399806</id><published>2005-07-22T21:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-23T02:55:55.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You Give Me Joy That's Unspeakable, and I Like It</title><content type='html'>Unspeakable joy... ever felt it? It is an emotion so far beyond human comprehension or description that it can only be manifested in outward acts of elation: smiling, laughter, dance. The word itself is comprised of only three letters, a name altogether fitting for a sensation so irresistibly simple. Ignited by an intangible spirit and fed by a lust for life, it is by far the most wonderful feeling in the world. And it is mine. As I sit here enclosed by the same four walls that I've seen for 9 years, enveloped in light and the scent of vanilla incense, I am truly who Christ intended me to be. And it is an unspeakable joy that makes me so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112210477550399806?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112210477550399806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112210477550399806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112210477550399806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112210477550399806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/07/you-give-me-joy-thats-unspeakable-and.html' title='You Give Me Joy That&apos;s Unspeakable, and I Like It'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112201662587457901</id><published>2005-07-22T00:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T01:43:30.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Night I Dreamt Of Sombreros</title><content type='html'>To numb the boredom...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i spend entirely too much time staring at a computer screen.&lt;br /&gt;i have a superiority complex.&lt;br /&gt;i never play dumb. never.&lt;br /&gt;i always want the best of everything.&lt;br /&gt;i derive joy from making people smile.&lt;br /&gt;i actually &lt;i&gt;like&lt;/i&gt; speaking in front of large crowds.&lt;br /&gt;i enjoy ego boosts.&lt;br /&gt;i am way too hard on myself.&lt;br /&gt;i love to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;i therefore am addicted to flash animations, stupid videos, and pointless comics.&lt;br /&gt;   i work crossword puzzles in ink.&lt;br /&gt;i think courting is one of the best things ever.&lt;br /&gt;   i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.&lt;br /&gt;   i am militantly pro-life.&lt;br /&gt;   i know a little bit about alot of things.&lt;br /&gt;   i usually enjoy the company of men more than women.&lt;br /&gt;i dwell on everything. always.&lt;br /&gt;i am a horrible one-upper.&lt;br /&gt;i taste colors.&lt;br /&gt;i can't wait to own my own house.&lt;br /&gt;i like it when people use my name when speaking to me. it makes me feel special!&lt;br /&gt;i love duckies.&lt;br /&gt;i am a shameless flirt.&lt;br /&gt;i love interior design.&lt;br /&gt;i enjoy singing in front of strangers, but get nervous in front of friends.&lt;br /&gt;i like to make telemarketers feel loved.&lt;br /&gt;i am 32 flavors. and then some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Name three things you can't live without. &lt;em&gt;God, music, books&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What fictional character would you like to hang out with? &lt;strike&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hm, wow. Georgia Nicholson.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strike&gt; Legolas or Frodo, definitely.&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What are you most afraid of? &lt;em&gt;turning into my mother, being unsuccessful, a nobody&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What song always makes you cry? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On Fire by Switchfoot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What makes you laugh harder than anything? &lt;em&gt;Standup comedy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What would you choose to come back as in your next life?&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Well, if I'm reincarnated then something is certainly wrong...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the best advice you were given by yourself or someone else? &lt;em&gt;"Never leave the one you love for the one you like, because the one you like will leave you for the one they love." Not the best, but the first that came to mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What still surprises you? &lt;em&gt;The absolutely retarded attitudes that most girls come equipped with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What quality can make you instantly connect with someone? &lt;em&gt;intelligence, faith, or thoughtfulness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What turns you off right away? &lt;em&gt;insensitivity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;If you could read the works of only one person, who would that be? &lt;em&gt;C.S. Lewis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What's really difficult for you? &lt;em&gt;getting out of bed in the morning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What do you wish you had done differently? &lt;em&gt;Not really anything.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where do you do your most creative thinking? &lt;em&gt;Talking to random people, at Adoration, in the shower (weird, I know)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What motivates to many of your actions? &lt;em&gt;emotions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. My uncle once:&lt;/strong&gt; lifted me up by the ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Never in my life:&lt;/strong&gt; have I driven a car, done actual karaoke, smoked any type of drug, been to a professional sports game (I don't count the SilverHawks), been in a serious relationship, broken a bone, been to jail, the list goes on....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. When I was five:&lt;/strong&gt; I had night terrors that still bug me today and wasn't allowed to watch the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. High School was:&lt;/strong&gt; and still is a 4-year-long distraction from impending college years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. I will never forget:&lt;/strong&gt; my childhood, Antioch, or the friends I've made this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. I once met:&lt;/strong&gt; Terry and Maureen McFadden, but that's about it. No famous people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. There’s this girl I know:&lt;/strong&gt; who's always crying, always upset about something. I pray for her every night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. Once, at a bar:&lt;/strong&gt; somebody got drunk. I've never been into a bar, but I'm sure it happens all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9. By noon I’m usually:&lt;/strong&gt; playing piano and convincing myself that 12 is a perfectly acceptable hour to eat breakfast&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10. Last night:&lt;/strong&gt; I went swimming when it was lightning out, jumped on a trampoline for the first time, and finally talked to Michael. Oh yeah, and dreamt of sombreros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11. If I only had:&lt;/strong&gt; more time to do what I want and need to do. Read, write, sing, dance, serve, and talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12. Next time I go to church: &lt;/strong&gt;I'll be relieved to finally get there but I'll probably space out within a half hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13. Terry Schiavo: &lt;/strong&gt;was inspiring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14. What worries me most:&lt;/strong&gt; is the future. Always. I think about it often, so shoot me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;15. When I turn my head left, I see:&lt;/strong&gt; A green and blue feather boa, a Chinese calendar, and a room that is waaay too organized for my liking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16. When I turn my head right, I see: &lt;/strong&gt;white slats. My closet. Guitar.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;17. You know I’m lying when:&lt;/strong&gt; My eyes get all teary and I'm wringing my hands. I'm a good liar, but I&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; hate it&lt;/span&gt;, and do it close to never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;18. What I miss most about the eighties:&lt;/strong&gt; Not one single thing. Heck, I wasn't born until '89.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;19. If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I’d be:&lt;/strong&gt; smarter than Juliet. The bimbo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;20. By this time next year:&lt;/strong&gt; I won't be at a computer. I'll be freaking out because all my friends will be back for the summer and I won't be able to sit still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;21. A better name for me would be:&lt;/strong&gt; something that has to do with talking extremely fast or being the poster girl for hyperactivity. Or maybe Thunder Thighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;22. I have a hard time understanding:&lt;/strong&gt; my faith, and people who don't have any yet enjoy senselessly insulting mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;23. When I go back to school I’ll:&lt;/strong&gt; actually apply myself, do homework, not get into debates with teachers and do more extracurriculars so Steubie won't be as much of a longshot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;24. You know I like you if:&lt;/strong&gt; I tell you. I typically don't play games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;25. If I won an award, the first person I’d thank would be&lt;/strong&gt; God, duh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;26. Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens &amp; Geraldine Ferraro:&lt;/strong&gt; Evolutionist, genius, and two people I've never heard of before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;27. Take my advice,&lt;/strong&gt; I'm not using it anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;28. My ideal breakfast is:&lt;/strong&gt; waffles and strawberries, egg whites, and a very small cup of orange juice. Perferrably eaten with someone who can make me laugh out on the porch on a sunny summer morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;29.  A song I love, but do not have is &lt;/strong&gt;... I have every song I've ever loved.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;30. If you visit my hometown, I suggest:&lt;/strong&gt; seeking medical help. You must be out of your mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31. Tulips, character flaws, microchips &amp;amp; track stars:&lt;/strong&gt; beautiful, are all over the place, cool looking, one of my best friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;32. Why won’t people: &lt;/strong&gt;just be happy???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;33. If you spend the night at my house: &lt;/strong&gt;the clock has magically turned back to 8th grade, the last time anyone spent the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;34. I’d call off my wedding for &lt;/strong&gt;absolutely nothing and no one. Maybe a death or terrorist attack. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Maybe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;35. The world could do without: &lt;/strong&gt;self-indulgent, whiney, overemotional, dramatic, hypersensitive, bitchy, fake, and/or otherwise irritating girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;36. I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than:&lt;/strong&gt; die, see a blimp, lose the people I care about, have my computer taken away for 2 months.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;37. My favorite blonde is&lt;/strong&gt; the old neighbor boy who I never got bored enough to introduce myself to before he moved. Ironic, no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;38.  Paper clips are more useful than&lt;/strong&gt; twisty ties on a loaf of bread. &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;39.  If I do anything well, &lt;/strong&gt;it's writing. And living happily ever after. I'm pretty freaking good at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;40. And by the way...&lt;/strong&gt;goodnight, I'm sleepy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well, if that wasn't the most pointless thing I've ever posted....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112201662587457901?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112201662587457901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112201662587457901' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112201662587457901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112201662587457901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/07/last-night-i-dreamt-of-sombreros.html' title='Last Night I Dreamt Of Sombreros'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112192637883788306</id><published>2005-07-21T00:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T19:08:25.806-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Breathe in these breezes of&lt;br /&gt;time in its glory&lt;br /&gt;a great realization&lt;br /&gt;the shift in the story&lt;br /&gt;All that I know now&lt;br /&gt;are misplaced reactions&lt;br /&gt;and hearts in their wisdom&lt;br /&gt;well on their way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something has changed&lt;br /&gt;let me be like the lily&lt;br /&gt;lives rearranged&lt;br /&gt;dawn&lt;br /&gt;the light and the echo of&lt;br /&gt;mercy is flowing&lt;br /&gt;it's going, it's going&lt;br /&gt;it's gone&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112192637883788306?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112192637883788306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112192637883788306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112192637883788306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112192637883788306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/07/breathe-in-these-breezes-of-time-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8317662.post-112184047790667745</id><published>2005-07-20T01:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T11:42:17.240-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Learned To Love The Bomb</title><content type='html'>Ladies, gentlemen, and cannon fodder. I have finally been released from the pits of hell (formerly 'the Cove') until the beginning of next week, and after a 10-hour-long double-header workday with extra innings, I don't know if I shall ever return. I am very, very sore. A massage and a smoothie sound really wonderful right now, though I thoroughly doubt I will be getting either at any point in the near future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, a post of some substantial value. Maybe. I'll keep it short though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about time and fate and all that lovely stuff a lot lately, and I started pondering whether or not there are such things as mistakes. If you think about it, every action we make guides us down one of a million paths, leading to one of a million outcomes. If we were to make any given decision differently, it could change everything. We make our own decisions and choose our own paths, but each one is woven throughout time and space perfectly, brillinantly. This fact, along with my firm belief in God's plan, has led me to the conclusion that there truly are no mistakes, no coincidences. Am I alone in this mindset? Comment and let me know, I'm quite interested!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, a preview to my next couple posts:&lt;br /&gt;-A cool religious analogy (not really, but I like it) involving golf&lt;br /&gt;-A cool religious analogy (really, it's brilliant) involving a mosaic and a story&lt;br /&gt;-A cool religious post about innocence&lt;br /&gt;-A cool religious post about satisfaction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The previous list is subject to change at any time, and will likely be interrupted by several random, boring, nonsense posts. Enjoy! Oh and yes, I changed the layout again. Sorry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, that sky looks like ground...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8317662-112184047790667745?l=breakawayblue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/feeds/112184047790667745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8317662&amp;postID=112184047790667745' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112184047790667745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8317662/posts/default/112184047790667745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://breakawayblue.blogspot.com/2005/07/how-i-learned-to-love-bomb.html' title='How I Learned To Love The Bomb'/><author><name>Erin Marie Hall</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08848163535313020067</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_NcAMJnnitMw/R6XmR46w98I/AAAAAAAAABY/MVwHPNYd9Sg/S220/bonjourfinal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
