<?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-3827055595026169955</id><updated>2011-11-23T17:30:28.111-05:00</updated><category term='fighter'/><category term='boysboysboys'/><category term='wise words'/><category term='melancholy melody'/><category term='words not mine'/><category term='holidays'/><category term='matters of the heart'/><category term='poetry'/><category term='random thoughts'/><category term='bitchiness is part of my charm'/><category term='music'/><category term='the ex-files'/><category term='&quot;fiercees&quot;'/><category term='fashion'/><category term='television'/><title type='text'>Towards the Unknown</title><subtitle type='html'>Music.Art.Poetry.Literature.&lt;br&gt;
Fashion.Culture.&lt;br&gt;
Love.LIFE.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>69</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-3805378573933971147</id><published>2009-10-28T11:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T12:13:58.369-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Chivas*</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;You're not worth it babe;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The trouble you bring, the noise you keep,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And you don't even care.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm so sick of you babe,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nights wasted, I'm through faking.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You don't turn me on,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You don't do anything at all.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Baby, I can't stand the sight of your face.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Baby, I don't even want to hear your name.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't know what I saw, but I ain't seeing it now,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Woke up this morning, bitterness in my mouth.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Guess I fell too fast, guess I learned my lesson,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So much for true love, I'll take the chivas instead.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You're too high maintenance babe,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All the time you spent trying to fit in,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And no one even cares.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's so ridiculous babe,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Watching you turn as I burn.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's like you're not even there.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Baby, don't you try and hold my hand.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe you should keep your eyes on your new girlfriend.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't know what I saw, but I ain't seeing it now,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Woke up this morning, bitterness in my mouth.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Guess I fell too fast, guess I learned my lesson,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So much for true love, I'll take the chivas* instead&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll take the chivas* instead,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Over your bed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It wasn't even good,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Trust me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I must have been so, so, so, so lonely.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are crap,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You should keep your eyes on your new little brat.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's hard not to look I know,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm amazing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I love you chivas*.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;* Replace all instances of "chivas" with "tequila," and this song is golden.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uHaEKbiEjoE&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uHaEKbiEjoE&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-3805378573933971147?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/3805378573933971147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/chivas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3805378573933971147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3805378573933971147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/chivas.html' title='Chivas*'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4465535161281308240</id><published>2009-10-24T23:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T23:30:28.295-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>Believe</title><content type='html'>if i wanted to believe,&lt;br /&gt;if i wanted to be,&lt;br /&gt;something more than the only&lt;br /&gt;one you have,&lt;br /&gt;one that you see...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i could've spent some more time,&lt;br /&gt;i could've given my mind,&lt;br /&gt;i know i arrived&lt;br /&gt;to the point,&lt;br /&gt;but incomplete,&lt;br /&gt;and that is more&lt;br /&gt;than i've ever known.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's not going to be time,&lt;br /&gt;you never could be mine,&lt;br /&gt;so i'm standing back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4465535161281308240?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4465535161281308240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/believe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4465535161281308240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4465535161281308240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/believe.html' title='Believe'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-7365219761772197251</id><published>2009-10-23T12:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T12:32:01.013-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Broken</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am here still waiting though I still have my doubts.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;With a broken heart that's still beating.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In the pain, there is healing,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In your name I find meaning.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm barely holdin' on to you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I still see your reflection inside of my eyes,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm hangin' on another day,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just to see what you throw my way.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I'm hanging on to the words you say,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You said that I will be okay.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sSRg8CTc8m0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sSRg8CTc8m0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-7365219761772197251?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/7365219761772197251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/broken.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/7365219761772197251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/7365219761772197251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/broken.html' title='Broken'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-5043046475914689524</id><published>2009-10-15T13:56:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T14:34:14.866-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bitchiness is part of my charm'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random thoughts'/><title type='text'>All About London</title><content type='html'>I never thought I'd say, but I actually miss London.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. The city I thought I'd never miss, I am feeling deep pangs of longing for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The city where the transit system is a joke, where the street names are confounding (Sunnyside Drive to Sunnyside Crescent to Sunnyside Court), the people have an air of importance, the university students run the downtown bars and there is a whole lotta NUTHIN' goin' on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The things I miss about London, in no particular order:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The fact that I can call a cab at 10:45 p.m., and take me downtown for about $15, in far less time than it would take me to even get to the subway station, let alone ride the subway somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;- And if I wanted to, I could walk to the bar. (Although who the hell are we kidding, there's no way I would do that...)&lt;br /&gt;- I can get poutine at 2 a.m., and then walk home from the bar eating it. Okay, I can get the food, then sit in a cab ride home eating it. Again, for $15! It would cost about $40-60 to take a cab home in Toronto, depending on what bar I'm going to.&lt;br /&gt;- The lack of choice in bars. This both means I don't have to be choosey, and I'll probably see someone I know (for example, a certain namesake in the bathroom at T.J. Baxter's on a random Saturday night).&lt;br /&gt;- Parking. How I miss the days of driving places in less than 15 minutes, and not having to promise my first-born child so I can park my damn car for ten minutes. Now the allure of a place is whether or not it has free parking ("That mall has free parking?! Well, what stores does it have? A Giant Tiger? Well, at least I can park for free!").&lt;br /&gt;- The summer. All of the free festivals (which equals lemonade and food), as well as the UWO students departing, and being able to get into any bar, at any time. The city may be dead, but we have a kick-ass time drinking all the drinks those students would be drinking.&lt;br /&gt;- And for that matter, Western. I can walk to class in under five minutes, instead of having to take some mass transit system, or run. And the campus really is beautiful, instead of some drab space crammed into a downtown block, where I can meet my classmates, as well as some hobos I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;- "Fashionable" Western girls. I don't know which is worse; the Ugg boots and TNA bags of the Western fashion elite, or the fake geek glasses and randomly coloured hair that is favoured by Toronto girls. Either way, it made for an amusing past-time on campus.&lt;br /&gt;- Traffic. Well, the abscence of it. Honestly, why is there a traffic jam on the Don Valley parkway at 9:30 p.m. on a Thursday night? I just want a schwarma, dammit!&lt;br /&gt;- SCHWARMAS! Everywhere. Two in White Oaks, a bunch downtown, and I can park for free and get my fix. Honestly, I would do anything for a good schwarma.&lt;br /&gt;- Crowds on the subway.  Move out of the damn way!&lt;br /&gt;- The JLC.  Okay, the ACC definitely gets better concerts (Justin, Britney, Madonna, Christina, Pink, to name a few), but it sure was nice to get the hell out of the concert at a decent hour (see Traffic).  Oh, and not pay a ton for parking (see Parking).  Everything just comes full circle, here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The things I like about Toronto, and where London is sadly lacking:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The subway (no, not the restaurant, but who doesn't love their meatball subs?!). I can take it anytime during the day, and wait only a few minutes for it arrive (you hear that 13 Wellington?! A few minutes, not every half-hour.), and then go all over the city. And on that note...&lt;br /&gt;- The transit system in general. Again, you can get almost anywhere in the city. Sure, I'm not going to ride it for 90 minutes to get to airport, but it's the idea that I CAN which makes it so appealing.&lt;br /&gt;- The lack of choice in bars. Seriously, if there's a line at my favourite bar, Thorny Devil, I'd probably go to Robinson Hall, and tempt the bouncers upstairs to let me in somehow. But other than that, I don't "do" waiting in line at bars. If there's a line, I'm probably out, and not likely going to hoof it somewhere else. And with all the Western students, good luck getting into anywhere good after 11:30 p.m. on a Friday/Saturday night.&lt;br /&gt;- Creepy London boys. At least, compared to moderately well-dressed Toronto boys who usually don't greet me by staring at my breasts. And these are the guys at the bar who leer and attempt to dance with you when you aren't paying attention. Yes, they exist everywhere, but these boys are often small-towners, who just want to get married and procreate. No thanks.&lt;br /&gt;- Vintage shops. So many, so little time.&lt;br /&gt;- Not working in a job where my job description accounts for the fact that I will likely be yelled at, by people too incompetant to realize their electronic item won't turn on because they haven't hit the "power" button.&lt;br /&gt;- Getting to wear jeans at work. Wearing jeans just about everywhere. Maybe I can finally use the 25+ pairs I own.&lt;br /&gt;- The abscence of "Fashionable" Western girls. Instead I get mature students at Ryerson who wear penny loafers and sweater sets. And I'm in jeans (see above).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if I'm missed anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, I do miss London, and most of all, miss all of the awesome people who live there.  As I've said to some of you, "I live in Toronto, but I party in London!"  While that may be true right now, I know I'll eventually stop coming back every weekend, and begin fully appreciating Toronto.  And then who knows?  I'll probably move somewhere else, and miss Toronto!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-5043046475914689524?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/5043046475914689524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/all-about-london.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/5043046475914689524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/5043046475914689524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/all-about-london.html' title='All About London'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2643003451543787725</id><published>2009-10-14T15:23:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T14:55:33.142-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Telephone</title><content type='html'>Greetings, folks. I'm here today to introduce you to a strange and new phenomenon that is sweeping the nation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's called &lt;em&gt;the telephone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, this may not be a new concept to many of you. But to some, this strange, new object is extremely foreign, or so it would seem. Therefore, I will now explain:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Do's and Don'ts of Telephone Etiquette:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;aka Don't Do What Johnny Don't Does&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;or How to NOT Be a Moron On the Phone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Whilst answering the telegrammophone, the following is proper procedure:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*ring ring*&lt;br /&gt;You: Hello?&lt;br /&gt;Them: Hello...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other telephone greetings may include, but are not limited to;&lt;br /&gt;"Simpson residence, Max Powers speaking."&lt;br /&gt;"Greetings friend."&lt;br /&gt;The Mr. Burns-approved favourite, "Ahoy-hoy."&lt;br /&gt;"Good morning/afternoon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my personal favourite,&lt;br /&gt;"Hey bitch."&lt;br /&gt;(Of course, this greeting is only to be used in conjunction with the novel feature of &lt;em&gt;Caller ID&lt;/em&gt;, whereupon I am completely aware as to whom is calling me, and can therefore greet them as such. This is not to be used with one's mother, grandmother, or family of the like, unless that is the sort of relationship you have with them. In which case, congratulations.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Once you have answered the phone, and completed your greeting, your caller is free to converse at will. If you are said caller, it should be known that cutting off the answerer of the telephone is impolite. The only reasons for you to do so, are as follows;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are female and you are in labour, in which case, time may be of the essence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are in distress of some kind (your foot is caught in a bear-trap, or your beer goggles have worn off, and you need to get the hell out of wherever the hell you are), in which case time may also be of the essence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following are innappropriate responses when the phone is answered:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Silence. Surely you have a reason for actively seeking a phone, picking up the receiver, dialing a number and waiting for someone to answer, and I'm sure it was not to &lt;em&gt;say nothing.&lt;/em&gt; So speak. That is why you have a voice. Unless you gave it away to find some Prince you're apparently "in love" with, but let Hans Christian Anderson deal with that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Responding, "Hellooo??" in confusion. I spoke, now it's your turn. Say something intelligent, or I will hang up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Hanging up. Now this is simply rude, especially when you call right back to do the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Interrupting the person's greeting. It's called taking turns; maybe you didn't learn it in elementary school, but a few episodes of Sesame Street should refresh your memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- There are two kinds of traps that can be created when you are speaking on the telephone with a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Tanya Talks Too Much: This person likely lives alone, with at least one requisite cat, and will keep you speaking with her as long as she can. Well, as long as she can. Despite numerous attempts to convey that you have other, more pressing issues to attend to, she will just keep talking, much like an Energizer Bunny, who keeps going and going...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Debbie Don't Interrupt: This chatterbox is even worse than the former, because she won't even let you get in a word. The second you answer the phone, she's running off on a tangent about her kids, her grandkids, their pets, what school they go to, her favourite place to shop, her favourite place to walk, the gossip from the home, which foods she can and cannot eat, what's wrong with the "yout's" of today, a funny story that happened on her way to pick up groceries, why the kid at the grocery store gave her the stink-eye, and didn't he know that he should respect his elders, and why don't you call me more often, don't you know I'm almost80andIwon'tbearoundmuchlonger (thank GOD). Don't even try to interrupt this type of caller; just mumble some sort of responses, and slowly place the receiver back on the hook, and continue about your business.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2643003451543787725?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2643003451543787725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/telephone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2643003451543787725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2643003451543787725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/telephone.html' title='The Telephone'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4496465346073756453</id><published>2009-10-14T15:21:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T15:22:37.425-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Good To You</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Thought I saw a sign, somewhere between the lines.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe it's me, maybe I only see, what I want.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I still have your letter, to stock up between,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Someone I just invented, and who I really am and who I've become.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I do want you know I hold you up above everyone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I do want you know I think you'd be good to me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I'd be so good to you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You bring me higher.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yeah, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4496465346073756453?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4496465346073756453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/good-to-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4496465346073756453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4496465346073756453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/good-to-you.html' title='Good To You'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-3665064012183046823</id><published>2009-10-14T15:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T15:18:24.520-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Undone</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Take our pictures off the walls tonight;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't wanna see you no more.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't wanna feel you no more.&lt;br /&gt;Take our memories, throw them all aside;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hope you finally get what you want,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now you know...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I didn't wanna live without you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I didn't wanna love without you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I used to think I'd die without you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now it's killing me,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That we can be undone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You're talking now and I'm hearin', &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everything that you say,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I'm holding on, is a real phrase,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And it's dragging me along to my grave, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's dragging me to my grave.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-3665064012183046823?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/3665064012183046823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/undone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3665064012183046823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3665064012183046823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/undone.html' title='Undone'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4754933903357398871</id><published>2009-10-08T10:45:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T10:45:53.685-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Me &amp; My Girl</title><content type='html'>Me and my girl, we're like the modern day Bonnie and Clyde.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4754933903357398871?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4754933903357398871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/me-my-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4754933903357398871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4754933903357398871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/me-my-girl.html' title='Me &amp; My Girl'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-1176008318320856359</id><published>2009-10-06T21:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T21:24:25.970-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise words'/><title type='text'>Life</title><content type='html'>Well, that's what life is.&lt;br /&gt;You get the wind knocked out of you time after time, but you just won't quit, because you don't wanna stop playing the game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-1176008318320856359?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/1176008318320856359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1176008318320856359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1176008318320856359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/10/life.html' title='Life'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2671228966963321174</id><published>2009-09-18T09:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T20:28:18.216-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boysboysboys'/><title type='text'>Alpha Males</title><content type='html'>I have been reading a lot regarding much in the world of "Alpha Males" lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In dicussions with female friends, I have ascertained that the majority of them and myself have realized that the idea of the Alpha Males seems to be going out the window as of late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Alpha Male would be described as strong, powerful men - the kind you see in power-suits, walking to work with a BlackBerry glued to their ear. The kind of man who is not afraid to make the first move. He knows what he wants and he gets it. Every. Time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it then that every guy I've ever dated/hooked up with, has NOT made the first move? That's right - &lt;b&gt;Every. Guy.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know I'm not the only one. Girlfriends have been telling me this for ages - guys do not make the first move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could argue that it's endearing. It's nice that these guys are trying to be gentlemen. Maybe they're just dense, and don't realize that it's okay to make a move unless you explicitly tell them. But I'm also one to enjoy when a guy makes the first move, even though I haven't had many chances to experience it. Because guys just don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be shy too, especially because guys can be tricky, and you never really do know if someone is interested unless they tell you, or drop two tonne hints. But I'm also one who doesn't beat around the bush. I'm the type of person who will give every hint in my arsenal, but eventually just come out and ask, &lt;i&gt;Are you &lt;b&gt;ever&lt;/b&gt; going to make a move?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It usually takes some courage on my part to do that (liquid, medicinal, or the old fashioned cowardly lion kind). If I can do it, why can't men? They're supposed to be stronger of the species (physically at least - I'm not convinced on mentally).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe they're shy. Maybe they're immature. Maybe it's an issue of self-confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where have all the Alpha Men gone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2671228966963321174?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2671228966963321174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/09/alpha-males.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2671228966963321174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2671228966963321174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/09/alpha-males.html' title='Alpha Males'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-7011855050250521286</id><published>2009-06-22T12:09:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T12:13:55.190-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Something for your mind...</title><content type='html'>Something for your mind...&lt;br /&gt;Something for your mind, your body and your soul.&lt;br /&gt;It's the power to arouse curiosity,&lt;br /&gt;The purpose, the goal which one acts on.&lt;br /&gt;A journey of force, hot like the sun and wet like the rain.&lt;br /&gt;Rythmatic movements in unison with others,&lt;br /&gt;Prolonged in acts of Sensation with no limits or boundaries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eternity has passed.&lt;br /&gt;Wrong is right.&lt;br /&gt;It's the point of greatest intensity.&lt;br /&gt;Pleasure of the highest sense.&lt;br /&gt;Feelings of warmth and security.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willing and unwilling sensations of the mind.&lt;br /&gt;The condition, the pulsing, the ultimate seduction.&lt;br /&gt;Something for your mind...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-7011855050250521286?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/7011855050250521286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/06/something-for-your-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/7011855050250521286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/7011855050250521286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/06/something-for-your-mind.html' title='Something for your mind...'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-1290644878919478504</id><published>2009-05-06T17:13:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T17:16:52.770-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>My Lucky Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;In the room where fortune falls,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;On a day when chance is all,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In the dark of fierce exile,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I felt the grace of your smile.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Honey, you're my lucky day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Baby, you're my lucky day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well I lost all the other bets I made,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Honey, you're my lucky day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When I see strong hearts give way &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To the burdens of the day,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To the weary hands of time,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where fortune is not kind. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've waited at your side,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've carried the tears you've cried.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But to win, darlin' we must play,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So don't hide your heart away.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="340" height="285"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/41dBI_FJBu0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/41dBI_FJBu0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="285"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-1290644878919478504?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/1290644878919478504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-lucky-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1290644878919478504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1290644878919478504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-lucky-day.html' title='My Lucky Day'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-6979174312576806767</id><published>2009-04-28T20:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T20:19:15.553-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Dog Days</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Happiness, it hurt like a train on a track,&lt;br /&gt;Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back.&lt;br /&gt;She hid around corners and she hid under beds,&lt;br /&gt;She killed it with kisses and from it she fled.&lt;br /&gt;With every bubble she sank with a drink&lt;br /&gt;And washed it away down the kitchen sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog days are over,&lt;br /&gt;The dog days are done.&lt;br /&gt;The horses are coming so you better run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father,&lt;br /&gt;Run for your children and your sisters and brothers.&lt;br /&gt;Leave all your love and your loving behind you,&lt;br /&gt;Can’t carry it with you if you want to survive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog days are over,&lt;br /&gt;The dog days are gone.&lt;br /&gt;Can you hear the horses, 'cause here they come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I never wanted anything from you,&lt;br /&gt;Except everything you had and what was left after that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness it hurt like a bullet in the mind,&lt;br /&gt;Stuck them up drainpipes by someone who should know better than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog days are over,&lt;br /&gt;The dog days are gone.&lt;br /&gt;Can you hear the horses, 'cause here they come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Run fast for your mother and fast for your father,&lt;br /&gt;Run for your children for your sisters and brothers.&lt;br /&gt;Leave all your love and your loving behind you,&lt;br /&gt;Can’t carry it with you if you want to survive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog days are over,&lt;br /&gt;The dog days are gone.&lt;br /&gt;Can you hear the horses, 'cause here they come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="285" width="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nP_jsy6Trrc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nP_jsy6Trrc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="285"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-6979174312576806767?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/6979174312576806767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/dog-days.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6979174312576806767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6979174312576806767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/dog-days.html' title='Dog Days'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2253245865206598922</id><published>2009-04-21T10:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T10:49:54.987-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Rearview</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I use to tell myself that you would wait.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I borrowed time for two and I twisted fate.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I left us floating in the air for wind to hold on to.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It let me down, it let you go.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I drive around like everything's okay,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I feel the lightning in our own mistakes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I was gonna tell you I wish all our wrongs could be right - &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm too late.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I looked in my rearview,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And now I don't see you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes the things you want are hard to take,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes the ones you love are risks you don't make, yeah.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The dust has settled into nothingness,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I yearn for yesterday.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just look around, I'm still the same. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So many things that we didn't say,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So many reasons the world's not the same.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh, it's not the same.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I drive around like nothing's here has changed,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I know the sky has one more cloud to break.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I was gonna tell you I wish all our wrongs could be right - &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm too late.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I looked in my rearview,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And now I don't see you &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I used to tell myself &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That you would wait.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="285" width="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/24g7rVQgub8&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/24g7rVQgub8&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="285"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2253245865206598922?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2253245865206598922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/rearview.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2253245865206598922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2253245865206598922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/rearview.html' title='Rearview'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4468184514728945801</id><published>2009-04-18T19:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T19:29:46.223-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='&quot;fiercees&quot;'/><title type='text'>Birthday</title><content type='html'>Short and sweet:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Birthday wishes to one of the most incredible people in my life.&lt;br /&gt;I adore you and words simply cannot tell you how much you mean to me, today and always.&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday bella.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ILU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4468184514728945801?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4468184514728945801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/birthday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4468184514728945801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4468184514728945801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/birthday.html' title='Birthday'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-6497012078227586312</id><published>2009-04-16T12:06:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T12:53:21.022-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Devil Wouldn't Recognize You</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;As quiet as it is tonight you almost think you were safe.&lt;br /&gt;Your eyes are full of surprises, they cannot predict my fate.&lt;br /&gt;Waiting underneath the stars, there's something you should know,&lt;br /&gt;The angels they surround my heart telling me to let you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I barely couldn't,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I barely couldn't recognize.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I played right into it,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who am I to criticize?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Somehow I'll get through it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And you won't even realize&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Falling through your own disguise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's like over and over,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You're pushing me right down to the floor,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I should just walk away.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Over and over,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I keep on coming back for more,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I play into your fantasy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now that it's over,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You can lie to me right through your smile,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I see behind your eyes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now I'm sober, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No more intoxicating my mind.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, but I do.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, but I do.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You almost fooled yourself this time, let all the saints be praised.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You hide your sadness behind your smile and you keep your lost heart braced.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The steps that edge along the ledge is much higher than it seems.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I've been on that ledge before, you can't hide yourself from me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's like over and over,&lt;br /&gt;You're pushing me right down to the floor,&lt;br /&gt;I should just walk away.&lt;br /&gt;Over and over,&lt;br /&gt;I keep on coming back for more,&lt;br /&gt;I play into your fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;Now that it's over,&lt;br /&gt;You can lie to me right through your smile,&lt;br /&gt;I see behind your eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm sober,&lt;br /&gt;No more intoxicating my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, but I do.&lt;br /&gt;Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, but I do.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="340" height="285"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dwZmO6_nBY4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dwZmO6_nBY4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="285"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-6497012078227586312?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/6497012078227586312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/devil-wouldnt-recognize-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6497012078227586312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6497012078227586312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/devil-wouldnt-recognize-you.html' title='Devil Wouldn&apos;t Recognize You'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-287353310339233508</id><published>2009-04-09T13:03:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T13:11:03.855-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Dancing Shoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's so nice to see you.&lt;br /&gt;Can we sit and talk for a while?&lt;br /&gt;I have searched forever,&lt;br /&gt;I can't imagine anything better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids upon the stairway,&lt;br /&gt;Couples on the sidewalk squares.&lt;br /&gt;If I get to your heart soon,&lt;br /&gt;I'll call a perfect afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Won't you call my number.&lt;br /&gt;Don't push, but don't hesitate.&lt;br /&gt;Wake me from this slumber.&lt;br /&gt;Rush me, but leave time to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Checkmate on my shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of this win or lose.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm no knight in shining armor,&lt;br /&gt;But I'm no pair of dancin' shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My patience ran away.&lt;br /&gt;Take me with you.&lt;br /&gt;You keep me holding on.&lt;br /&gt;Nothin's understood,&lt;br /&gt;You're so confusing,&lt;br /&gt;Tell it to me straight.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Won't you call my number.&lt;br /&gt;Don't push, but don't hesitate.&lt;br /&gt;Wake me from this slumber.&lt;br /&gt;Rush me, but leave time to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rush me but leave time to wait.&lt;br /&gt;I got nothin' left to lose,&lt;br /&gt;But I'm no pair of dancin' shoes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;object height="265" width="320"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qV9mMNoJl4A&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qV9mMNoJl4A&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-287353310339233508?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/287353310339233508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/dancing-shoes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/287353310339233508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/287353310339233508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/dancing-shoes.html' title='Dancing Shoes'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2682283753024703677</id><published>2009-04-07T23:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T23:16:40.162-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random thoughts'/><title type='text'>Phone</title><content type='html'>Walking across campus tonight to my car, I couldn't find my keys.  I started to shake my bag furiously, to attempt to locate the jingling of my keys, inside my massive purse (which contained my wallet, a book, numerous tissues, a chocolate bar, lip gloss, my phone and the elusive keys).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During my crazy shaking-of-my-large-purse, my phone became dislodged and went flying across the concrete, hitting the ground so hard that the battery door flew off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then screeched like a crazy person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I frightened the people standing nearby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they may have laughed at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, the important matter of this story is that:&lt;br /&gt;1. My phone is okay (thank jeebus)&lt;br /&gt;2. I attended my last class at Western tonight.  Without much fanfare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't feel like four years are over...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2682283753024703677?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2682283753024703677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/phone.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2682283753024703677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2682283753024703677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/phone.html' title='Phone'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-8309529865513685868</id><published>2009-04-07T21:07:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T21:12:35.712-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='words not mine'/><title type='text'>Article: "Why I'm Alone" by Lea Lane</title><content type='html'>An &lt;a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lea-lane/why-im-alone_b_177398.html"&gt;article&lt;/a&gt; printed in the Huffington Post, titled "Why I'm Alone."  Some of my favourite reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;People ask me why I'm still alone, and why I don't seek to date much, eight years after my husband died. I thought about it the other day, and came up with a few of the reasons.&lt;br /&gt;I'm alone because:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I find myself sitting in front of the computer, and three hours later I look up and the sun is down and it's too late to ask someone to go out to dinner, so I spread some cream cheese and mild salsa on wheat crackers and watch Olbermann. And I'm fine with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I sometimes like it, so I won't go out and beat the bushes for some nice-enough fellow who belches so loud I jump and doesn't listen and who doesn't make me smile enough to put up with strange noises and indifference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I'm now used to getting up when I want and drinking from the juice bottles and not shaving my legs and leaving dishes from the night before on my bed and getting up at 3am and seeing a movie and going back to bed at 5am and not hearing a word of scorn, and not that many people can deal with that kind of thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I appreciate solitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I can scratch my own itches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... it's peaceful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I have friends who laugh and go out to concerts and play Scrabble and keep me occupied when I want to go out and we seem to laugh more than our married friends and we even look happier, even if we aren't, but I suspect we might be, at least more so than many.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;... I'm independent and outspoken and most men don't much care for women who debate them and who don't hope to get married and cook for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I don't want to be a nurse for the men who still run after me, who can't even run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I don't want my heart broken again. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I don't find it easy to trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... my memories and dreams are often X-rated and I can return to them when I want a thrill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I'm comfortable in my skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;... you're more alone in an unhappy relationship than you really ever are without a relationship at all.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... my friends don't introduce me to anyone anymore because they know that unlike some women my age who settle, I want a bit more than "mammal" on my wish list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... life doesn't always wind up the way you expect it to, and you roll with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;... I choose to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I'm able to be.&lt;/strong&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/3827055595026169955-8309529865513685868?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/8309529865513685868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/article-why-im-alone-by-lea-lane.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8309529865513685868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8309529865513685868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/article-why-im-alone-by-lea-lane.html' title='Article: &quot;Why I&apos;m Alone&quot; by Lea Lane'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2414652585761437638</id><published>2009-04-06T17:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T17:53:53.243-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random thoughts'/><title type='text'>Female Powers</title><content type='html'>Lindsay: Still waiting for a drink?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man friend: Yeah.  The bartender looked right at me, then served someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay: I'll help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*leans over bar and smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*two bartenders appear*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bartender: What would you like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Works every time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2414652585761437638?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2414652585761437638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/female-powers.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2414652585761437638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2414652585761437638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/female-powers.html' title='Female Powers'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-8594562371635485173</id><published>2009-04-03T12:10:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T12:26:14.386-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>Brand New</title><content type='html'>Smile,&lt;br /&gt;We're seating you among the brave, new and proud&lt;br /&gt;The new kids who hang around here, on the block,&lt;br /&gt;With their brand new paper-bag tees,&lt;br /&gt;Who don't know how to be anything other&lt;br /&gt;Than&lt;br /&gt;Amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're going to be the one to confront&lt;br /&gt;Everyone.&lt;br /&gt;Sun coming up while you try to survive:&lt;br /&gt;"It ain't gonna be easy, kid."&lt;br /&gt;You have no idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you don't know how,&lt;br /&gt;Just turn off the lights,&lt;br /&gt;But don't shut the door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-8594562371635485173?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/8594562371635485173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/brand-new.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8594562371635485173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8594562371635485173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/brand-new.html' title='Brand New'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4053351861866977992</id><published>2009-04-03T12:03:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T12:24:15.547-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Temporary Tattoos</title><content type='html'>Vitamin 8, kick texture out for total, ever to-date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He mentioned my having disappeared... Oops&lt;br /&gt;In addition to too much social in a row.&lt;br /&gt;Then I go out into mass heat to look for bird-thing.&lt;br /&gt;No worries, I assure you we will locate a drunkard,&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't that be a day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The don't-tell policy is not gonna fly -&lt;br /&gt;Literally yours.&lt;br /&gt;He was one of these guys who integrates "cold" into his writing,&lt;br /&gt;And everyone said, "But of the human kind,&lt;br /&gt;Eyes on the dog, ticketing a nice dog."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Demons be gone.&lt;br /&gt;Thursdays at least part of the same week we are in.&lt;br /&gt;My ostensible impodus,&lt;br /&gt;You might have to draw me a picture on a bar napkin&lt;br /&gt;So I get it.&lt;br /&gt;Plural becuase I am going to predict,&lt;br /&gt;Match-to-letters,&lt;br /&gt;Except you would order the sounds,&lt;br /&gt;They are crowded&lt;br /&gt;As are most good things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My clock is close&lt;br /&gt;Disease - I guess I shouldn't share?&lt;br /&gt;But then it would've been a dog-less trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't suppose there's any chance you'd be willing to snap a photo of yourself right now for me?&lt;br /&gt;Whatever that means.&lt;br /&gt;I was agitated even before the super-clever.&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt of a dollbox which keeps getting worse.&lt;br /&gt;We are giving each other temporary tattoos, accidentaly -&lt;br /&gt;You smell like ketchup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;10 am.&lt;br /&gt;I lay in my bed, shoeless and in doorway.&lt;br /&gt;I look back in my head - How did they get there?&lt;br /&gt;I drove. I can drive.&lt;br /&gt;The machines are in my head; they are making something new - all bets.&lt;br /&gt;I think you said, I remember it being in a present tense, ha ha.&lt;br /&gt;Which is, I guess, the thing.&lt;br /&gt;It often isn't coerced by intention.&lt;br /&gt;I was prepared to deflect on the fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put the cigarette out, shut the lights, and went to bed to the sounds of dirty.&lt;br /&gt;Almost went to sleep in my dress, shoes and all the rest,&lt;br /&gt;Under window panes in pool-like, gentle spin.&lt;br /&gt;Sun coming up on red-brick buildings, thinking of the view I used to have&lt;br /&gt;Of the silver lakes, mountains, Hollywood sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here equals signs of life, relief.&lt;br /&gt;When repression becomes survival,&lt;br /&gt;And high becomes crash.&lt;br /&gt;When insanity becomes ruler,&lt;br /&gt;Becomes outside.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When repression becomes survival,&lt;br /&gt;And high becomes crash.&lt;br /&gt;When insanity becomes ruler,&lt;br /&gt;Becomes outside.&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/3827055595026169955-4053351861866977992?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4053351861866977992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/temporary-tattoos.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4053351861866977992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4053351861866977992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/temporary-tattoos.html' title='Temporary Tattoos'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4762950475597405217</id><published>2009-04-01T23:46:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T23:50:23.300-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Set the Fire to the Third Bar</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I find the map and draw a straight line,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Over rivers, farms, and state lines,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The distance from 'A' to where you'd 'B,'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's only finger-lengths that I see.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I touch the place where I'd find your face.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My finger in creases of distant dark places&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hang my coat up in the first bar,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There is no peace that I've found so far.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The laughter penetrates my silence,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As drunken men find flaws in science.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Their words mostly noises,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ghosts with just voices.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your words in my memory,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Are like music to me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm miles from where you are.&lt;br /&gt;I lay down on the cold ground.&lt;br /&gt;I pray that something picks me up,&lt;br /&gt;And sets me down in your warm arms.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;After I have travelled so far,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We'd set the fire to the third bar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We'd share each other like an island,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Until exhausted, close our eyelids.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And dreaming, pick up from&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The last place we left off.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your soft skin is weeping,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A joy you can't keep in.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm miles from where you are.&lt;br /&gt;I lay down on the cold ground.&lt;br /&gt;I pray that something picks me up,&lt;br /&gt;And sets me down in your warm arms.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ReD-7x6k4Go&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ReD-7x6k4Go&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4762950475597405217?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4762950475597405217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/set-fire-to-third-bar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4762950475597405217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4762950475597405217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/04/set-fire-to-third-bar.html' title='Set the Fire to the Third Bar'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-3924098208550939535</id><published>2009-03-20T15:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T16:24:27.513-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random thoughts'/><title type='text'>Gym</title><content type='html'>Note to self: begin working out in the main gym as opposed to the women's only section. It is much more motivating to look at deliciously sculpted eye candy, as opposed to fat, sweaty old ladies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other note to self: four-times-a-week gym excursions are treating your legs and tush very well. Keep up the good work - those jeans look faboosh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-3924098208550939535?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/3924098208550939535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/03/gym.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3924098208550939535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3924098208550939535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/03/gym.html' title='Gym'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4718592601772387451</id><published>2009-03-16T22:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T22:41:20.193-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise words'/><title type='text'>Sports</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;DDG:&lt;/em&gt; Did I tell you about my brother and his sports?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay:&lt;/em&gt; Sports... ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;DDG:&lt;/em&gt; Well, it's like basketball, only gay-er.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay:  &lt;/em&gt;I... don't even know how to respond to that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4718592601772387451?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4718592601772387451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/03/sports.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4718592601772387451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4718592601772387451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/03/sports.html' title='Sports'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-7765722399295613951</id><published>2009-03-08T16:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T17:10:44.716-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random thoughts'/><title type='text'>Sayanora!</title><content type='html'>One of my coworkers, who was never very nice (to anyone, let alone me), is going to work at another store.  He invited everyone out next Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today he came up to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Coworker:&lt;/em&gt; So you gonna miss me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay's Brain:&lt;/em&gt; Hell no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay:&lt;/em&gt; Um, yes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Coworker:&lt;/em&gt; That didn't sound convinvcing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay's Brain:&lt;/em&gt; Because I don't like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay:&lt;/em&gt; No, uh, I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Coworker:&lt;/em&gt; You coming out on Friday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay's Brain:&lt;/em&gt; I'd rather saw off my foot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay:&lt;/em&gt; I, uh, think I may be hanging out with my friend *attempt to look pensive, like I'm concentrating  really hard to remember*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Coworker:&lt;/em&gt; Ohh, suuuure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay's Brain:&lt;/em&gt; I don't have to give you excuses!  I don't like you!!  I'm glad you're leaving!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay:&lt;/em&gt; No, I think I already have plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Coworker:&lt;/em&gt; That's because you don't want to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay's Brain:&lt;/em&gt; Correct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lindsay:&lt;/em&gt; Well, y'know, you stick with the person you made plans with first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Coworker: &lt;/em&gt;Seems like a good excuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I just turned away and tuned him out.  I'm happy to see this guy leave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-7765722399295613951?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/7765722399295613951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/03/sayanora.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/7765722399295613951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/7765722399295613951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/03/sayanora.html' title='Sayanora!'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-9173698237936728421</id><published>2009-03-03T22:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T22:24:30.018-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='matters of the heart'/><title type='text'>Ongoing Strike</title><content type='html'>When we were little kids, it was quite simple to make friends.  &lt;em&gt;That girl has a pink backpack - mine is pink too!  Let's be friends!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendships could be based purely on superficial means - you're neighbours, she sits next to you in class, he has a wicked pool.  Adult things like jobs and relationships weren't there to muddle things up, and make you act more mature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we grow older, we mature; and yet, it seems as if we are sliding backwards in the maturity of our friendships.  I believe we blame surrounding factors - I'm too busy at work, school, with my boyfriend, with my family - but perhaps it could be based on our own selfishness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many people can honestly say they make an effort to contact their friends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My strike continues.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I messaged a friend, stating that I am tired of our one-sided friendship.  I felt a little bad for what I said, so I called, twice.  That was twelve hours ago.  Still no response.  Pretty friendly, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I struggle with this?  Do I have high expectations of what I believe a true friend should be?  Or do people care about no one but themselves?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels rotten to know that the people I consider my "friends," really don't give a damn about me.  Totally, ass-kicking, loneliness-feeling, pit-in-my-stomach, rotten.  I wish they could know this, but they seem too ignorant to care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-9173698237936728421?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/9173698237936728421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/03/ongoing-strike.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/9173698237936728421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/9173698237936728421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/03/ongoing-strike.html' title='Ongoing Strike'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-1014994878857440114</id><published>2009-02-25T10:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T10:41:58.850-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>You Found Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I found God on the corner of First and Amistad,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where the west was all but won.&lt;br /&gt;All alone smoking his last cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Where you been?"&lt;br /&gt;He said, "Ask anything."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where were you when everything was falling apart?&lt;br /&gt;All my days were spent by the telephone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;It never rang and all I needed was a call.&lt;br /&gt;It never came to the corner of First and Amistad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lost and insecure: you found me, you found me.&lt;br /&gt;Lyin' on the floor: surrounded, surrounded.&lt;br /&gt;Why'd you have to wait:&lt;br /&gt;Where were you, where were you?&lt;br /&gt;Just a little late: you found me, you found me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end everyone ends up alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Losing her, the only one who's ever known,&lt;br /&gt;Who I am, who I'm not, who I wanna be.&lt;br /&gt;No way to know how long she will be next to me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Early morning, the city breaks.&lt;br /&gt;I've been callin' for years and years and years and years,&lt;br /&gt;And you never left me no messages.&lt;br /&gt;You never send me no letters.&lt;br /&gt;You got some kinda nerve,&lt;br /&gt;Taking all my world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lost and insecure: you found me, you found me.&lt;br /&gt;Lyin' on the floor: where were you, where were you?&lt;br /&gt;Lost and insecure: you found me, you found me.&lt;br /&gt;Lyin' on the floor: surrounded, surrounded.&lt;br /&gt;Why'd you have to wait?&lt;br /&gt;Where were you? Where were you?&lt;br /&gt;Just a little late: you found me, you found me&lt;br /&gt;Why'd you have to wait?&lt;br /&gt;To find me, to find me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="500" height="315"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VJyyanGYH_I&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VJyyanGYH_I&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="315"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-1014994878857440114?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/1014994878857440114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-found-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1014994878857440114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1014994878857440114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-found-me.html' title='You Found Me'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2960869089765333449</id><published>2009-02-23T11:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T10:25:08.091-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>All I Ever Wanted</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Tear up the photographs, but yesterday won’t let go,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every day, every day, every minute.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here comes the emptiness, just can’t leave lonely alone,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every day, every day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This second-chancin’s really getting me down.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You give and takin’ everything I dreamed about. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It’s time you let me know, let me know, just let go...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All I ever wanted, all I ever wanted,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Was a simple way to get over you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All I ever wanted, all I ever wanted,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Was an in-between to escape this desperate scene,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where every lie reveals the truth.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Baby cause I all ever wanted,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All I ever wanted was you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I’d rather walk alone, don’t wanna chase you around,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every day, every day, every minute. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'd fall a thousand times before I let you drag me down,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every day, every day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your new beginning was a perfect ending,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I keep feeling we’ve already been here before,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It’s time you let me know, let me know, just let go...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tell me with so many out there why I always turn to you?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your goodbyes tear me down every time,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And it’s so easy to see that the blame is on me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="364" width="445"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cPyegpgBZAA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cPyegpgBZAA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2960869089765333449?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2960869089765333449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/all-i-ever-wanted.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2960869089765333449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2960869089765333449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/all-i-ever-wanted.html' title='All I Ever Wanted'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-8297790190967211342</id><published>2009-02-20T22:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T22:58:17.604-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the ex-files'/><title type='text'>Cry</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;If anyone asks I tell them we both just moved on,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When people all stare, I pretend that I don't hear them talk.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whenever I see you, I swallow my pride, and bite my tongue.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pretend I'm okay with it all, act like there's nothing wrong.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Is it over yet; can I open my eyes?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Is this as hard as it gets;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Is this what it feels like to really cry?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If anyones asks I tell them we just grew apart.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What do I care, if they believe me or not?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whenever I feel your memory is breaking my heart,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I pretend I'm okay with it all, act like there's nothing wrong.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm talking in circles, I'm lying way low, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why won't this just stop or wait.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Is it over yet; can I open my eyes?&lt;br /&gt;Is this as hard as it gets;&lt;br /&gt;Is this what it feels like to really cry?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="364" width="445"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NnEcu26shHY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NnEcu26shHY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-8297790190967211342?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/8297790190967211342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/cry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8297790190967211342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8297790190967211342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/cry.html' title='Cry'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-8092448557170562079</id><published>2009-02-19T19:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T19:23:40.348-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fighter'/><title type='text'>Goodbye</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Everyday's the same, I feel them merge.&lt;br /&gt;I try to separate, resist the urge.&lt;br /&gt;But they tell me I'll be fine,&lt;br /&gt;That it will all get better.&lt;br /&gt;Just try to write it down,&lt;br /&gt;Or put it in a letter.&lt;br /&gt;But the words won't play,&lt;br /&gt;And there's no easy way to say:&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep my head on straight and don't look down.&lt;br /&gt;With all I've pushed away, I'm losing ground.&lt;br /&gt;But they tell me I'll be fine,&lt;br /&gt;That it will all get better.&lt;br /&gt;Just try to write it down,&lt;br /&gt;Or put it in a letter.&lt;br /&gt;But the words won't play,&lt;br /&gt;And there's no easy way to say:&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And from the sidelines watch me fall down.&lt;br /&gt;And I don't understand the things I do,&lt;br /&gt;But I'll probably be fine,&lt;br /&gt;As long as I keep moving.&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to write it down,&lt;br /&gt;So things just keep improving.&lt;br /&gt;Still the words won't play,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause there's no easy way to say:&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye, goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jIqj-rhFHYs&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jIqj-rhFHYs&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-8092448557170562079?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/8092448557170562079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/goodbye.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8092448557170562079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8092448557170562079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/goodbye.html' title='Goodbye'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-327762783304430771</id><published>2009-02-19T19:10:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T19:16:09.127-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>Momentarily</title><content type='html'>Did I bring this on myself?&lt;br /&gt;Another day, another night,&lt;br /&gt;Forgotten by the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;Subsisting on the memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When every day is the same,&lt;br /&gt;Merging into one solitary moment,&lt;br /&gt;Suspended in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not waiting for anything,&lt;br /&gt;Or anyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-327762783304430771?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/327762783304430771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/momentarily.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/327762783304430771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/327762783304430771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/momentarily.html' title='Momentarily'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-6593988041007395484</id><published>2009-02-17T20:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T20:17:00.329-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>Images</title><content type='html'>It's hard to look at&lt;br /&gt;Images of&lt;br /&gt;The past&lt;br /&gt;Without thinking of&lt;br /&gt;You/you./YOU.../&lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without thinking of&lt;br /&gt;The days that were,&lt;br /&gt;Now the ones that&lt;br /&gt;Have passed us by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without knowing&lt;br /&gt;That everyone&lt;br /&gt;Everything,&lt;br /&gt;Took all there was to take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The images&lt;br /&gt;That remain now,&lt;br /&gt;Are nothing more&lt;br /&gt;Than tears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-6593988041007395484?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/6593988041007395484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/images.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6593988041007395484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6593988041007395484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/images.html' title='Images'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-7392980141333230646</id><published>2009-02-17T12:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T12:54:55.829-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Umbrella</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;You have my heart, and we'll never be worlds apart.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;May be in magazines, but you'll still be my star.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Baby cause in the dark you can't see shiny cars,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And that's when you need me there, with you I'll always share, because,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;When the sun shines, we’ll shine together.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Told you I'll be here forever,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Said I'll always be a friend,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Took an oath, I'ma stick it out 'till the end.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now that it's raining more than ever,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Know that we'll still have each other,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;You can stand under my umbrella,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;You can stand under my umbrella.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;These fancy things, will never come in between,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You're part of my entity, here for infinity.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When the war has took it's part, when the world has dealt it's cards,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If the hand is hard, together we'll mend your heart&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You can run into my arms, it's okay, don't be alarmed,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Come here to me, there's no distance in between our love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So go on and let the rain pour, I'll be all you need and more.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uHlgAIwWDtg&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uHlgAIwWDtg&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-7392980141333230646?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/7392980141333230646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/umbrella.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/7392980141333230646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/7392980141333230646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/umbrella.html' title='Umbrella'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-3996092826054086920</id><published>2009-02-12T16:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T16:16:55.772-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='matters of the heart'/><title type='text'>Not So Friendly Friends</title><content type='html'>It's become increasingly more difficult to be friendly to people lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by that I mean, I am growing very sick and tired of the one-sided friendships I seemed to have created.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One-sided meaning, &lt;em&gt;I am doing all of the f#$*ing work.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not the first time I've felt this way.  I once messaged my two "best friends," and told them both, quite bluntly, that I am tired of always being the one to call them and make plans.  If they want to be my friend, then they should make some effort too.  Why should it always be me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may bitch; I may be pretty bold-faced; I may have a strong personality.  But I am a damn good friend.  Anyone would be lucky to be close to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I am beginning to realize as of late, that I am struggling to name any "best friends."  My closest friend in the world lives in Toronto.  My sexy single, international friend is, obviously, across international waters at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always prided myself on being an excellent friend.  Call me at two in the morning and I'll listen.  Let me get the check for dinner - you can pay next time!  Let's go shopping for three hours to find the perfect jeans for you!  I'm often the one who makes the plans, orchestrates the night out, invites everyone over for drinks, makes food for everyone to eat.  Most of that is because I'm quite anal, and like everything my way, on my turf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But why do I always have to be the one making the calls?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this past week, I've called my "best friend," about three times, and she still hasn't called me back.  I called my other friend, and when I told her I couldn't come over on Friday (the first time she's invited me out in probably months), I was the one making new plans for next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I crazy?  Am I secretly, actually a really bad friend and person, who doesn't deserve to forge relationships of any kind with people? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or are my friends just lazy?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-3996092826054086920?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/3996092826054086920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/not-so-friendly-friends.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3996092826054086920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3996092826054086920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/not-so-friendly-friends.html' title='Not So Friendly Friends'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-6648296056779703472</id><published>2009-02-05T19:19:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T19:25:07.239-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Tears Dry On Their Own</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;All I can ever be to you is a darkness that we knew,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And this regret I've grown accustomed to.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Once it was so right, when we were at our high,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Waiting for you in the hotel at night.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I knew I hadn't met my match, but every moment we could snatch,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't know why I got so attached.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's my responsibility and you don't owe nothing to me,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But to walk away I have no capacity.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He walks away, the sun goes down,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He takes the day but I'm grown.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And in your way, in this blue shade,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My tears dry on their own.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't understand, why do I stress a man,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When there's so many bigger things at hand?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We could a never had it all, we had to hit a wall,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So this is inevitable withdrawal.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Even if I stop wanting you a perspective pushes through,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll be some next man's other woman soon.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I shouldn't play myself again, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I should just be my own best friend,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Not fuck myself in the head with stupid men.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So we are history, your shadow covers me,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The sky above a blaze only lovers see.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wish I could say no regrets and no emotional debts,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cause that kiss goodbye the sun sets.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So we are history, the shadow covers me,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The sky above a blaze that only lovers see.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/I6LVGcIC1Tc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/I6LVGcIC1Tc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-6648296056779703472?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/6648296056779703472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/tears-dry-on-their-own.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6648296056779703472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6648296056779703472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/tears-dry-on-their-own.html' title='Tears Dry On Their Own'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2945698251988831794</id><published>2009-02-03T23:06:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T23:17:23.589-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Sunday Morning</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Sappy pathetic little me,&lt;br /&gt;That was the girl I used to be.&lt;br /&gt;You had me on my knees.&lt;br /&gt;I'd trade you places any day,&lt;br /&gt;I'd never thought you could be that way.&lt;br /&gt;But you looked like me on Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You came in with the breeze on Sunday morning,&lt;br /&gt;You sure have changed since yesterday without any warning.&lt;br /&gt;I thought I knew you, I thought I knew you, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I thought I knew you well, so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're trying my shoes on for a change.&lt;br /&gt;They look so good but fit so strange.&lt;br /&gt;Out of fashion so I can complain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You came in with the breeze on Sunday morning,&lt;br /&gt;You sure have changed since yesterday without any warning.&lt;br /&gt;I thought I knew you, I thought I knew you, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I thought I knew you well, so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know who I am, but who are you?&lt;br /&gt;You're not looking like you used to.&lt;br /&gt;You're on the other side of the mirror, so nothing's looking quite as clear.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, for turning on the light, thank you, now you're the parasite .&lt;br /&gt;I didn't think you had it in you and now you're looking like I used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You came in with the breeze on Sunday morning,&lt;br /&gt;You sure have changed since yesterday without any warning.&lt;br /&gt;And you want me badly, cause you cannot have me.&lt;br /&gt;I thought I knew you, but I've got a new view.&lt;br /&gt;I thought I knew you well, oh well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EUqTH9e9sQU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EUqTH9e9sQU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2945698251988831794?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2945698251988831794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/sunday-morning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2945698251988831794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2945698251988831794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/sunday-morning.html' title='Sunday Morning'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-178418211089474728</id><published>2009-02-02T17:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T17:31:04.078-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bleeding All Over You</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;There are days when the cage,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Doesn't seem to open very wide at all.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There are others that would shock,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The most indiscriminate lovers of all.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My heart was made for bleeding all over you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You've got a girlfriend and I can only,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Talk about her for so very long.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then my mind turns into my heart,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And whispers into that dark cave that I've been wronged.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My heart was made for bleeding all over you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I know you're married but I've got feelings too,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I still love you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You moved up North and got a farm house,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There's cow shit in your brain and love in your heart.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm in the city and I'm trapped between,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Two buildings then having to start at the start.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You've got a daughter, now you're a father,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You have your pack and they are wild.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My heart was made for bleeding all over you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I know you're married but I've got feelings too,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I still love you, I still love you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've got feelings too,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I still love you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yes, I still love you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oWFm9cj42xU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oWFm9cj42xU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-178418211089474728?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/178418211089474728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/bleeding-all-over-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/178418211089474728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/178418211089474728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/02/bleeding-all-over-you.html' title='Bleeding All Over You'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4640154496267887056</id><published>2009-01-31T14:19:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T14:24:55.961-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise words'/><title type='text'>Long Way To Go</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;We've got a long way to go.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We've got a long way to go;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;His/Her skin wasn't the same color as mine but he/she was fine, he/she was fine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If all men are made equal then he/she was fine, he/she was fine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Up until the time we went out on a date, I was fine, I was fine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now I'm getting dirty looks I wonder what they'd say if we were blind, we were blind people.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We've got a long way to go.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When snow hits the asphalt, cold looks and bad talk come.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We've got a long way to go;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's beyond Martin Luther, upgrade computer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beauty is beauty, whether it's black or white,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yellow or green baby, you know what I mean.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What if Picasso only used one color?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There shouldn't be a rule how to choose your lover.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lovers in love is such a wonderful thing,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe in time we'll get together and sing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I really hope so, there's nothing wrong with this picture.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We got a long way to go, we gotta get there quicker.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What color is love?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All men are created equal.&lt;br /&gt;Children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged,&lt;br /&gt;By the colour of their skin, but by the content of their character.&lt;br /&gt;This will be the day when all of God's children, will be able to sing with a new meaning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4640154496267887056?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4640154496267887056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/long-way-to-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4640154496267887056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4640154496267887056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/long-way-to-go.html' title='Long Way To Go'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4465922531766808087</id><published>2009-01-30T11:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T12:07:00.259-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Love is Hard</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I see lovers in the streets walking, without a care. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They're wearing it out loud, like there's something in the air,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I don't care.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They're treading lightly, no they don't sink in.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There's no tracks to follow, they don't care where they going.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And if they're lucky and they'll, they'll get to see,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And if they're really, really lucky, they'll get to feel.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And it kicks so hard, it breaks your bones. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cuts so deep, it hits your soul. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tears your skin and makes your blood flow. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's better that you know that love is hard. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love takes hostages, gives them pain. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gives someone the power to hurt you again and again,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But they don't care.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And if they're lucky and they'll, they'll get to see.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And if they're really, really lucky they'll, they'll get to feel. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And if they're, they're truly blessed, and they get to believe.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And if you're damned, you'll never let yourself be diseased. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And it kicks so hard, it breaks your bones. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cuts so deep, it hits your soul. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tears your skin and makes your blood flow. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's better that we know that love is hard. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If it was easy, it wouldn't mean nothing though.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4465922531766808087?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4465922531766808087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/love-is-hard.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4465922531766808087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4465922531766808087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/love-is-hard.html' title='Love is Hard'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2394428978630211874</id><published>2009-01-29T19:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T19:23:58.491-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='melancholy melody'/><title type='text'>Almost Lover</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Your fingertips across my skin,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The palm trees swaying in the wind;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Images.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You sang me Spanish lullabies,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The sweetest sadness in your eyes;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Clever trick.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I never want to see you unhappy,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I thought you'd want the same for me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Goodbye my almost lover,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Goodbye my hopeless dream.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm trying not to think about you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can't you just let me be?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So long my luckless romance,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My back is turned on you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Should've known you'd bring me heartache,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Almost lovers always do.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We walked along a crowded street,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You took my hand and danced with me;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Images.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And when you left you kissed my lips&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You told me you would never, never forget,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;These images.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I cannot go to the ocean.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I cannot drive the streets at night.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I cannot wake up in the morning,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Without you on my mind.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So you're gone and I'm haunted,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I bet you were just fine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did I make it that easy to walk right in out of my life?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2394428978630211874?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2394428978630211874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/almost-lover.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2394428978630211874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2394428978630211874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/almost-lover.html' title='Almost Lover'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-6800296977581824708</id><published>2009-01-29T18:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T18:21:16.835-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>Limbo</title><content type='html'>The words that /we/ were never meant to say,&lt;br /&gt;OR&lt;br /&gt;Unable to say,&lt;br /&gt;Buried deep inside,&lt;br /&gt;Pushed down until /we/&lt;br /&gt;Couldn't hear them anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time in months /we/&lt;br /&gt;Felt anything more than ... what?&lt;br /&gt;But the secret is still&lt;br /&gt;Screaming to come forth,&lt;br /&gt;Words s p i l l i n g&lt;br /&gt;From numb lips.&lt;br /&gt;Crash through my door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuck in nothing more than limbo,&lt;br /&gt;HE said//SHE said&lt;br /&gt;Nonesense of the tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When have we ever known&lt;br /&gt;Anything other than this?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-6800296977581824708?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/6800296977581824708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/limbo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6800296977581824708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6800296977581824708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/limbo.html' title='Limbo'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4244112958106978057</id><published>2009-01-27T22:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T22:38:54.617-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Coldest Winter</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;On lonely nights I start to fade,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your love's a thousand miles away.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Memories made in the coldest winter.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Goodbye my friend,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Will I ever love again?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's 4 am, and I can't sleep,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your love is all that I can see.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Memories made in the coldest winter.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Goodbye my friend,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Will I ever love again?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Memories made in the coldest winter.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If Spring can take the snow away,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can I melt away all our mistakes?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Memories made in the coldest winter.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Goodbye my friend,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I won't even love again.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never again.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4244112958106978057?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4244112958106978057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/coldest-winter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4244112958106978057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4244112958106978057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/coldest-winter.html' title='Coldest Winter'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-3653528196296766012</id><published>2009-01-27T22:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T22:21:53.068-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bitchiness is part of my charm'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='&quot;fiercees&quot;'/><title type='text'>Rihanna</title><content type='html'>Dear Rihanna,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a very large fan of the fierce and fabulous-ness that is you, I must say, I am quite disapointed in your "new"est CD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Girl Gone Bad - The Remixes, was recently released.  Now, don't get me wrong, I am not one to argue with remix CDs - I'm sure they can be a pretty good cash grab.  For example, I am quite the fan of Kylie Minogue's newest remix CD, entitled Boombox.  I mean, even the name is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress.  Not that your new CD is not good.  But, it was advertised as being, "&lt;em&gt;All new, never before heard remixes!  New!!  NEW!!!!  Not even the producers heard this shit, you're gonna love it, it's so awesome, buy it, BUY IT NOWWWW!!!!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet, when I began to listen, it was not new material.  No, in fact, other than possibly two, maybe three songs, it was all shit I'd heard before!  As I recall, I went to download your CD, and, through the abyss that is the Bit Torrent website I used to us, I donwloaded some remix CD. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I press play - &lt;em&gt;Wait, this isn't the Rihanna CD... this is some remix shit.  Hey, it's pretty good...&lt;/em&gt;  I then proceeded to play that CD to death.  Yes, it was good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, you are advertising this "new" CD as having "new" material.  I beg to differ, Rihanna, if that IS your real name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.  I least I only downloaded it yet again.  Torrents, how I love thee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely yours,&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Love the hair.  Could you give me your stylist's number?  Thanks babe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-3653528196296766012?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/3653528196296766012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/rihanna.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3653528196296766012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3653528196296766012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/rihanna.html' title='Rihanna'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-1004854491684026008</id><published>2009-01-27T14:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T14:57:42.664-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='melancholy melody'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise words'/><title type='text'>Little Black Sandals</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I'm being dragged down, down by the hand,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The hand of a golden giant man.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He's crushing my knuckles, splitting my skin,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He says he'll let go if only I'd ask it of him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He says Girl, it's your call,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You wanna fly, you wanna fall?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So I shout, I wanna get away from you as fast as I can,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I tell my feet to move it, I hope they have a plan.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;These little black sandals are walking me away,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;These little black sandals are heading the right way.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;These little black sandals are walking me away,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;These little black sandals saved my life today.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So now I'm free, free, from the big bad giant who was stalking me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thank you feet, for guiding me, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm glad somehow I got brains down there, at least.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes I'm tempted, sometimes I am,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would be lying if I said I didn't miss that giant man.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;He was the line between pleasure and pain,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;But me and the feet have some years to reclaim.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;These little black sandals are walking me away,&lt;br /&gt;These little black sandals are heading the right way.&lt;br /&gt;These little black sandals are walking me away,&lt;br /&gt;These little black sandals saved my life today.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-1004854491684026008?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/1004854491684026008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/little-black-sandals.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1004854491684026008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1004854491684026008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/little-black-sandals.html' title='Little Black Sandals'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-836462885731492182</id><published>2009-01-26T14:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T15:06:09.083-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='&quot;fiercees&quot;'/><title type='text'>Killer Queen</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;She keeps Moet et Chandon in her pretty cabinet.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Let them eat cake' she says just like Marie Antoinette.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A built-in remedy for Kruschev and Kennedy,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;At anytime an invitation you can't decline.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Caviar and cigarettes,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well versed in etiquette,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Extraordinarily nice.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She's a Killer Queen -&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gunpowder, gelatine,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dynamite with a laser beam,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Guaranteed to blow your mind,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anytime.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Recommended at the price,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Insatiable an appetite,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wanna try?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To avoid complications she never kept the same address,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In conversation she spoke just like a baroness.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Met a man from China, went down to Geisha Minah,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then again incidentally, if you're that way inclined.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Perfume came naturally from Paris,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;For cars she couldn't care less,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fastidious and precise.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;She's a Killer Queen -&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gunpowder, gelatine,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dynamite with a laser beam,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Guaranteed to blow your mind,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Anytime.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Drop of a hat she's as willing as,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Playful as a pussy cat,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then momentarily out of action,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Temporarily out of gas.&lt;br /&gt;To absolutely drive you wild, wild,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She's all out to get you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She's a Killer Queen -&lt;br /&gt;Gunpowder, gelatine,&lt;br /&gt;Dynamite with a laser beam,&lt;br /&gt;Guaranteed to blow your mind,&lt;br /&gt;Anytime.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-836462885731492182?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/836462885731492182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/killer-queen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/836462885731492182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/836462885731492182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/killer-queen.html' title='Killer Queen'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-5196953982367480700</id><published>2009-01-26T14:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T14:47:07.750-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the ex-files'/><title type='text'>Return of the Ex</title><content type='html'>Why do ex-boyfriends insist on contacting their ex-girlfriends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I can name one self-respecting female I know who would &lt;em&gt;voluntarily&lt;/em&gt; contact any of her ex-boyfriends just to, "Say hi!"  No, we have much more dignity, and have learned to leave the past, in the past, where it fucking belongs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite a few of my ex-boyfriends have attempted to stay in contact with me after we broke up.  To cut them some slack, I do understand the mentality; you spend a lot of time with someone, are very close, and then are expected to cut off all contact?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at the same time, I say, Y&lt;strong&gt;es, &lt;/strong&gt;you &lt;strong&gt;are&lt;/strong&gt; expected to cut off all contact!  We didn't work out.  You need to not exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think part of the reason why females cannot stay in contact with their exes is because we are unable to detach ourselves from the situation, whereas men can.  It's the same with how women cannot seperate love and sex, whereas men can, and therefore some become nothing more than revolving doors of females in their bed.  This isn't a bad thing; it's the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I ponder how to send my exes the message that I want them all out of my life, I also stress the fact that I am not a bitch for wanting this.  Because after all, as Samantha says, &lt;em&gt;Women are for friends, men are for fucking.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-5196953982367480700?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/5196953982367480700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/return-of-ex.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/5196953982367480700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/5196953982367480700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/return-of-ex.html' title='Return of the Ex'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-6998311510757123887</id><published>2009-01-22T21:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T22:01:57.400-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random thoughts'/><title type='text'>Types of Friends</title><content type='html'>THE ATTRACTIVE “BUT HE’S LIKE A BROTHER” FRIEND&lt;br /&gt;Every girl who meets him wants to know if he’s single. Girls laugh flirtatiously when he tells a joke. Why aren’t you dating him? “He’s like a brother!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE BAR FRIEND&lt;br /&gt;You only see her when there are drinks involved. Conversation is little, due to the loud thumping music deafening you. She is usually single and spends the better part of the night staring at guys and flirting. She may have made out with you, partly for fun, partly to get attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE BEST FRIEND&lt;br /&gt;The most coveted friend position. You can tell this girl anything. If you murdered someone, she’d bring over a rug to roll the body up in, and drive you to the nearest river to dump it. She matches you shot-for-shot on your birthday, and you both spend the next day praying to the porcelain gods. She’s the one who will tell you what jeans make your ass look fierce, and which give you muffin-top. The first person you call with good news. The person who holds your hand and threatens to break his balls off, when he breaks your heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE BORROWER&lt;br /&gt;She’s always borrowing your shit. And when you get it back (if you ever do), it’s scratched, ripped, or has some questionable foreign matter on it. Or if she’s your roommate or sibling, she’ll borrow without asking (essentially stealing), and when you go to wear your favourite lamb’s wool sweater, it’s been shrunk to the proportions of a Cabbage Patch doll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHATTY KATHY&lt;br /&gt;You dread seeing her number on the call display because this girl can drone about her favourite subject – herself – for hours. You may have to feign another call/having homework to do/going into a tunnel to get her off the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE COMFORTABLE FRIEND&lt;br /&gt;You two could sit and watch movies for hours. You could go for a drive in complete silence. But you don’t care, because you’re so comfortable together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE DITCHER&lt;br /&gt;Your single, attractive friend who ditches you at the bar to suck face with a random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE EX-BOYFRIEND FRIEND&lt;br /&gt;It didn’t work out as a couple, but this guy stuck it out as a friend. May only be accomplished if you only dated for a short period of time, or if some time has elapsed between your breakup and the friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FACEBOOK FRIEND&lt;br /&gt;She adds you on Facebook because you went to school/Girl Guides/Fat Camp/Alcoholics Anonymous together. You probably couldn’t even guess the number of siblings she has, but you add her anyways because you don’t want to feel mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FLAKER&lt;br /&gt;Every time you make plans with her, something comes up at the last minute and she bails. Consequent plans have the same result. Why bother?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FLIRT&lt;br /&gt;She flirts shamelessly with your boyfriend/brother/father. When you confront her about it, she claims, “I’m just being nice!” But everyone else knows better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FRENEMY&lt;br /&gt;Every catty act is so inconspicuous; you may think you’re just being paranoid. Three hours later, you realize her comment held a backhanded bitch-slap. How did she do that?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FRIEND-BY-PROXY&lt;br /&gt;You’re neighbours; you’re parents are friends; you get stuck together on a project. If you had to pick a friend out of a line-up, you probably wouldn’t pick her, but you’re stuck with her by proxy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GAY FRIEND&lt;br /&gt;He is the Stanford to your Carrie; the Will to your Grace (or Jack to your Karen if you prefer). He gives you the light-hearted approach to life that a girl needs sometimes. And acts as your bitchy fashion police.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GIRLFRIEND WITH A BOYFRIEND&lt;br /&gt;She finally finds the “perfect guy,” and falls off the face of the earth. When you try to regain contact with her, she dominates the conversation with stories about the flowers he got her for no reason, or the cute story about the time they went out for hamburgers and he put straws in his teeth like a walrus: “You just had to be there, it was SO funny.”&lt;br /&gt;Warning: She may only reappear when she and Mr. Right break up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KAREN&lt;br /&gt;“Every group has someone named Karen. And she is always a bag of douche.”&lt;br /&gt;- Dane Cook&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE KID WITH THE KICK-ASS TOYS&lt;br /&gt;When you were little, one person always had the best toys. And you would’ve eaten broccoli for a months to lay yours hands on that Barbie dream-house with the swimming pool, real working fireplace and Barbie’s walk-in closet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE LISTENER&lt;br /&gt;She will listen to you bitch and cry your heart out, while nodding her head and making sympathetic noises. She deserves a cocktail on your dime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE MOOCHER&lt;br /&gt;You get stuck paying for dinner, the movies, and then, somehow, her gas on the way home. Be careful, or she’ll suck you dry. And probably not in the good way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE OUT-OF-TOWNER&lt;br /&gt;He lives out of town for school. You may only see him during the holidays or when it’s yours or his birthday. But when you do see him, man it’s just like old times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OVERSEAS GIRL&lt;br /&gt;She’s fabulous. ‘Nuff said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE PERPETUAL HANG-OUTER&lt;br /&gt;This friend only appears at the most inopportune and awkward occasions, such as you are running late to your yearly gynecological appointment. She will stop you or her high-pitched squeals will. “AwhmiGAWD, I haven’t seen you in SO loooong!” If you can get a word in edgewise around the tales of her “FAWH-bu-less” life, she’ll nod with a big smile. She departs with the promise, “We HAVE to hang out soon! Call me!!” which is accompanied by a fake-phone-to-ear motion. Now you won’t see her for three months, minimum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAD SALLY&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is ever good enough for Sally. “I’m not pretty enough,” “I’m too fat,” “No one will ever love me!” You can’t go shopping with her because she complains everything looks better on you. You can’t go out to eat with her because she’ll order a piece of lettuce and pout because she’s on a diet, and then she’ll eat all of your fries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SECRET ADMIRER&lt;br /&gt;He’s been holding a candle for you for quite some time. But it’s not so secret. You just avoid talking about it because it’s so awkward. And you get teased mercilessly about it when he’s not present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE SCHOOL FRIEND&lt;br /&gt;You make friends with someone in your class. You two discuss assignments, study for the exam together, and then get a drink afterward to celebrate. And you never see her again after the exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHOPPING FRIEND&lt;br /&gt;You only see her within the confines of a store or shopping mall. But she has such a keen eye for sales and cool fashions that you keep her on speed-dial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE SIBLING&lt;br /&gt;You may have hated each other when you were younger. But now you couldn’t be closer. And she may know you better than you know yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE TEXTER&lt;br /&gt;She only corresponds by way of text message. Her thumbs are constantly poised over her phone, ready to fire off another witty remark. Her repartee even continues when you see her in person, and she ignores you in favour of her phone. Her eyes may go beady from constantly staring at her screen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-6998311510757123887?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/6998311510757123887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/types-of-friends.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6998311510757123887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6998311510757123887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/types-of-friends.html' title='Types of Friends'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-3657737831397690193</id><published>2009-01-21T17:03:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T17:13:21.605-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Are You Happy Now?</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Don't just walk away, pretending everything's okay,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And you don't care about me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I know it's just no use when all your lies become your truths,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I don't care.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Could you look me in the eye,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And tell me that you're happy now?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Would you tell it my face,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Or have I been erased?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Are you happy now?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You took all there was to take, and left me with an empty plate,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And you don't care about it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I am giving up this game, and leaving with all the blame,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Cause I don't care.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do you really have everything you want?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You can't ever give something you ain't got,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You can't run away from yourself.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Would you look me in the eye?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've had all that I can take,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm not about to break,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Cause I'm happy now.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Are you happy now?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-3657737831397690193?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/3657737831397690193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/are-you-happy-now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3657737831397690193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3657737831397690193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/are-you-happy-now.html' title='Are You Happy Now?'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-3418605943816683576</id><published>2009-01-21T11:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T22:45:47.953-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='matters of the heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the ex-files'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boysboysboys'/><title type='text'>With Every Heartbeat</title><content type='html'>I got a message on Facebook from an ex-boyfriend of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We dated when I lived in Ottawa. We started dating when I was in grade 10, and he was in grade 11. (To be fair, this is not to send the message that I was an awesome player, dating older guys. I went to an arts high school. The ratio of females-to-males was 7-1. That is, for every seven girls, there was &lt;strong&gt;one&lt;/strong&gt; guy. And many of them were gay, so it was more like 9-1. Sad odds.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I moved to London, halfway through grade 11, we obviously broke up. At first, I didn't want to, but then I realized something; &lt;strong&gt;I hated him.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was rude, inconsiderate, immature and one of the most selfish people I've ever met (it didn't help that he was an only child). He wasn't that good looking either...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The message:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hi! Call me weak but once and a while &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[awhile]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; I think about you and no matter how bad of a parting we had I think its &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[it's]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; nice to say hi ONCE every few years or so haha. I just think its &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[it's]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; kind of weird to be close to someone for a pretty long time and then just NEVER talk to them again. I think I did email you a few months ago and never got anything back.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;[never got said email] &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;It doesn't really matter to me if you don't send anything back. But I'm a good man &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[or so you/your parents would like to believe]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;, and it REALLY wouldn't hurt you just to say hi once and a while! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[sounds like it DOES matter...] &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Either way as far as I can remember the ORIGINAL reason we broke up was because you moved to London. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[um, no. It was in fact NOT.]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; I didn't like drive through your parents living room window or something haha. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[okay, no, I'll give you that, but you did some other shitty stuff]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next part is all about him, how he's in fourth year at Concordia, and got even fatter and uglier than before (alright, that last part is a lie).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the end:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So... anyways I really don't know what you think about me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt; [I still think you're a loser]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; but like I say &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[said]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; I don't really have anything against you and I just thought it wouldn't hurt just to say hi. Let me know how you're doing if you choose! Take care of yourself!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent the message to my friend. He pointed out all of the emphasis he placed on certain things, basically making me out to be the bad guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do ex-boyfriends have to come back into your life? Why can't they all be sent onto a deserted island, where they have to rot and think about all the shitty things they did to you, and then feel reallyreally bad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to take my sweet time in responding, and make him sweat...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-3418605943816683576?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/3418605943816683576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/with-every-heartbeat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3418605943816683576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3418605943816683576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/with-every-heartbeat.html' title='With Every Heartbeat'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2674776611839041194</id><published>2009-01-20T14:46:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T14:51:05.522-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>The Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Now it's time to show who I want to be,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You tried to take the best of me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You had me down, watched me down on my knees,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But you know I can prove,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So right now, what's next, what is there to do?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Feel the love,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Feel the love that's lost,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And lay the blame on you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I better find another love that is really true.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Feel the love,&lt;br /&gt;Feel the love that's lost,&lt;br /&gt;And lay the blame on you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I guess it's time to find a love that is really true.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2674776611839041194?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2674776611839041194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2674776611839041194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2674776611839041194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/love.html' title='The Love'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-1847178247476570849</id><published>2009-01-20T14:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T14:46:35.586-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise words'/><title type='text'>Amen</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;In the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day, when black will not be asked to get back; when brown can stick around; when yellow will be mellow; when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let all those who do justice and love mercy, say Amen.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Dr. Joseph Lowery&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-1847178247476570849?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/1847178247476570849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/amen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1847178247476570849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1847178247476570849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/amen.html' title='Amen'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-793132779643347985</id><published>2009-01-19T21:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T21:49:00.937-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>If You Should Go</title><content type='html'>Tried to swim to shore,&lt;br /&gt;To move past the rising waves,&lt;br /&gt;Threatening,&lt;br /&gt;Ripping me apart.&lt;br /&gt;But as I move,&lt;br /&gt;Getting closer to nothing -&lt;br /&gt;Each time pushing me&lt;br /&gt;Farther,&lt;br /&gt;Farther back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no shore in sight,&lt;br /&gt;Just miles and miles&lt;br /&gt;Of waxy gray,&lt;br /&gt;My mind in search of ground&lt;br /&gt;To rest my feet upon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No centre,&lt;br /&gt;No home.&lt;br /&gt;Fragments of perfection,&lt;br /&gt;Under my throughts and dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-793132779643347985?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/793132779643347985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/if-you-should-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/793132779643347985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/793132779643347985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/if-you-should-go.html' title='If You Should Go'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-6021644571852720655</id><published>2009-01-11T19:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T19:56:17.827-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Decode</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;How did we get here?&lt;br /&gt;When I used to know you so well.&lt;br /&gt;But how did we get here?&lt;br /&gt;I think I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is hiding in your eyes,&lt;br /&gt;And it's hanging on your tongue,&lt;br /&gt;Just boiling in my blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But you think that I can't see,&lt;br /&gt;What kind of man that you are,&lt;br /&gt;If you're a man at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Well, I will figure this one out&lt;br /&gt;On my own.&lt;br /&gt;(My thoughts you can't decode)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you see what we've done?&lt;br /&gt;We've gone and made such fools of ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is something I see in you,&lt;br /&gt;It might kill me,&lt;br /&gt;I want it to be true.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-6021644571852720655?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/6021644571852720655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/decode.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6021644571852720655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6021644571852720655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/decode.html' title='Decode'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2556312238603369365</id><published>2009-01-08T20:29:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T20:38:48.512-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='melancholy melody'/><title type='text'>Be Mine</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;It's a good thing tears never show in the pouring rain,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As if a good thing ever could make up for all the pain.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There'll be no last chance to promise to never mess it up again,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just a sweet pain of watching your back as you walk,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As I'm watching you walk away.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's a cruel thing you never know all the ways I tried,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's a hard thing faking a smile when I feel like I'm falling apart inside.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And now you're gone, it's like an echo in my head,&lt;br /&gt;And I remember every word you said.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;But you never were, and you never will be mine,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;No, you never were, and you never will be mine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;For the first time, there is no mercy in your eyes,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And the cold wind's hitting my face and you're gone,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And you're walking away.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I am helpless, sometimes wishing's just no good,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cause you don't see me like I wish you would.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cause you never were, and you never will be mine,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No, you never were, and you never will be mine&lt;/strong&gt; .&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There's a moment to seize everytime that we meet,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But you always keep passing me by,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;But you never were, and you never will be mine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2556312238603369365?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2556312238603369365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/be-mine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2556312238603369365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2556312238603369365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/be-mine.html' title='Be Mine'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2066918561522083061</id><published>2009-01-05T17:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T17:45:24.268-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='melancholy melody'/><title type='text'>Never Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I hope the ring you gave to her turns her finger green,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hope when you're in bed with her, you think of me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would never wish bad things, but I don't wish you well.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Could you tell by the flames that burned away?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If she really knows the truth, she deserves you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A trophy wife, oh how cute; Ignorance is bliss.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But when your day comes and he's through with you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And he'll be through with you - you'll die together but alone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never again will I hear you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never again will I miss you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never again will I fall to you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never again will I kiss you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never again will I want to,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never again will I love you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2066918561522083061?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2066918561522083061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/never-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2066918561522083061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2066918561522083061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/never-again.html' title='Never Again'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-8356520904273029658</id><published>2009-01-04T13:01:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T13:04:44.360-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='melancholy melody'/><title type='text'>Santa Monica</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;He fills my bed with gasoline,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You think I would've noticed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I think someone's trying to show us a sign,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That even if we thought it would last,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The moment would pass,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My bones will break and my heart would give.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I remember the day when you left for Santa Monica,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You left me to remain with all your excuses for everything.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wanted more than this,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I needed more than this,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I deserve more than this,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But it just won't stop,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It just won't go away...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-8356520904273029658?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/8356520904273029658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/santa-monica.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8356520904273029658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8356520904273029658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2009/01/santa-monica.html' title='Santa Monica'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-8906404465524146492</id><published>2008-12-24T13:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T13:41:34.381-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='&quot;fiercees&quot;'/><title type='text'>Voicemail</title><content type='html'>"Hi Lindsay, it's Lianne.  I don't know what you're doing, so you can always call me.  My number at home is 003-112-452-7648-24252359-3583570-35935235, and my cell number is 002-127-132424-3513387657-19305432-Q-Q-another Q-the Batman symbol-876."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-8906404465524146492?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/8906404465524146492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/voicemail.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8906404465524146492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/8906404465524146492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/voicemail.html' title='Voicemail'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-1027335271585644840</id><published>2008-12-18T21:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T21:34:26.647-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random thoughts'/><title type='text'>Elf</title><content type='html'>"I'm sorry I ruined your life and crammed eleven cookies into the VCR."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-1027335271585644840?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/1027335271585644840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/elf.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1027335271585644840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/1027335271585644840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/elf.html' title='Elf'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-5843065077800330144</id><published>2008-12-16T17:10:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T17:23:14.229-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='matters of the heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='melancholy melody'/><title type='text'>For Good</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've heard it said t&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;hat people come into our lives for a reason,&lt;br /&gt;Bringing something we must learn.&lt;br /&gt;And we are led to those who help us most to grow,&lt;br /&gt;If we let them and we help them in return.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I don't know if I believe that's true,&lt;br /&gt;But I know I'm who I am today&lt;br /&gt;Because I knew you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It well may be&lt;br /&gt;That we will never meet again in this lifetime,&lt;br /&gt;So let me say before we part --&lt;br /&gt;So much of me is made of what I learned from you;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You'll be with me like a handprint on my heart.&lt;br /&gt;And now whatever way our stories end,&lt;br /&gt;I know you have re-written mine by being my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who can say if I've been changed for the better?&lt;br /&gt;I do believe I have been changed for the better,&lt;br /&gt;Because I knew you I have been changed for good.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-5843065077800330144?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/5843065077800330144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/for-good.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/5843065077800330144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/5843065077800330144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/for-good.html' title='For Good'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4959296408349797785</id><published>2008-12-14T21:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T22:01:01.763-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='matters of the heart'/><title type='text'>Lose</title><content type='html'>Did you think that you could just walk away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way,&lt;br /&gt;There is no point in me&lt;br /&gt;Lamenting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because you can't lose something you never really had.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4959296408349797785?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4959296408349797785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/lose.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4959296408349797785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4959296408349797785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/lose.html' title='Lose'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-6373780003529251592</id><published>2008-12-14T21:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T21:55:27.342-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='melancholy melody'/><title type='text'>Man On the Run</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;You stole a kiss and stole my heart,&lt;br /&gt;Made me a fool right from the start:&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn’t have been so bad except,&lt;br /&gt;This little plan it fell apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were you&lt;br /&gt;I’d dare not speak,&lt;br /&gt;I’d run like hell&lt;br /&gt;In hopes of seeing tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;It’s such a travesty:&lt;br /&gt;Think you can just break my heart and leave me.&lt;br /&gt;Well, you better run now,&lt;br /&gt;Man on the run,&lt;br /&gt;Playing for fun.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;These lips are sealed:&lt;br /&gt;I’ll never speak your name&lt;br /&gt;In loving memory,&lt;br /&gt;So don’t you try to make amends&lt;br /&gt;That’s what you gain for playing me...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-6373780003529251592?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/6373780003529251592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/man-on-run.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6373780003529251592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/6373780003529251592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/man-on-run.html' title='Man On the Run'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-477097058464737378</id><published>2008-12-13T23:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T23:55:34.742-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='melancholy melody'/><title type='text'>End</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Don't wanna think about it,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't wanna talk about it,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm just so sick about it --&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can't believe it's ending this way...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Is this the way it's really going down?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Is this how we say goodbye?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What goes around, goes around, goes around, comes all the way back around...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-477097058464737378?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/477097058464737378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/dont-wanna-think-about-it-dont-wanna.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/477097058464737378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/477097058464737378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/dont-wanna-think-about-it-dont-wanna.html' title='End'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2964448163278833990</id><published>2008-12-12T14:51:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T15:05:58.546-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='matters of the heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Hide and Seek</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SULDUsiKuaI/AAAAAAAAAAo/ywXBrK9_BVE/s1600-h/arjanwrites_imogenmj.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278996473550911906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SULDUsiKuaI/AAAAAAAAAAo/ywXBrK9_BVE/s200/arjanwrites_imogenmj.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Where are we?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;What the hell is going on?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The dust has only just begun to form,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Crop circles in the carpet,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sinking feeling...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Oily marks appear on walls&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Where pleasure moments hung before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;What you say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;That you only meant well - &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well of course you did.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;What you say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's it all for the best - &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Of course it is.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;What you say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;That it's just what we need -&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;You decided this.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;What you say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;What did she say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You don't care a bit, you don't care a bit...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2964448163278833990?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2964448163278833990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/hide-and-seek.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2964448163278833990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2964448163278833990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/hide-and-seek.html' title='Hide and Seek'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SULDUsiKuaI/AAAAAAAAAAo/ywXBrK9_BVE/s72-c/arjanwrites_imogenmj.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-2396739005269208714</id><published>2008-12-12T00:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:03:55.166-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random thoughts'/><title type='text'>Fashion</title><content type='html'>The state of fashion in our current day is at an all-time low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is truly saying something. After all, we have previously seen the 80’s – crimped hair, pink lipstick, acid-washed, skinny jeans, with jean jackets on top, even the one-handed, finger-less, lace gloves, worn by Madonna (a fashion icon in herself – who could forget the cone bra?). We have also seen the early 90’s – the birth of Nirvana, and with it, the grunge look, complete with pale, baggy jeans, and flannel – as well as the later 90’s, of which I was able to experience. Looking through photos, I am appalled at the number of cotton “onesies” I wore when I was young, as well as the embarrassing clunky items we once called “shoes.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, I fear that fashion has taken a turn for the worst; a turn into completely inappropriate and frankly embarrassing territory. And by that I mean, the appalling number of females who have chosen to wear shirts as dresses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the Thorny Devil, while listening to some excellent house music, and burning off some unneeded calories on the dance floor, I turned to discover the young lady next to me was wearing a black shirt as a dress. It was definitely a shirt; it was made of cotton, had short sleeves, and extended just past her hips. She had paired it with a pair of black, three-inch mules. All of this combined to make her look like she was either at a very high-class resort, and had thrown this shirt on over her bathing suit, or that she had simply left the house without her pants on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make things even worse, this novel idea seems to have begun in certain stores. At Urban Behaviour, I was greeted by a wall of short dresses. Alright, this is the new fashion trend: short dresses. But I am a girl who is on the taller side – 5’8” to be exact. Therefore I have come to terms with the fact that most short dresses are too short for me to wear without exposing myself in a rather un-ladylike manner. Sadly, other females do not seem to realize this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once purchased a shirt from the aforementioned store. When worn with jeans, it is very flattering, and I’ve gotten several compliments on it. Unfortunately, when back at the same store on another occasion, I witnessed a girl trying the same shirt on as a dress. To be fair, she was shorter than me, but I definitely felt rather uncomfortable watching her prance around the changing rooms in something that could only be described as a shirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is this new overwhelming fashion trend? I do not comprehend it; when did it become acceptable to leave your home without being fully clothed? Am I suddenly unaware of the overwhelming amount of female who have misplaced their pants? I don’t think I will ever understand how a self-respecting female can look at the mirror, as she is wearing a shirt that barely covers herself, and think, &lt;em&gt;Wow, this sure does look good…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-2396739005269208714?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/2396739005269208714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/state-of-fashion-in-our-current-day-is.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2396739005269208714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/2396739005269208714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/state-of-fashion-in-our-current-day-is.html' title='Fashion'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-7847729248161522816</id><published>2008-12-11T22:52:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T23:07:50.896-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='words not mine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise words'/><title type='text'>Idea</title><content type='html'>You cannot restrain or tame an idea with idle threats,&lt;br /&gt;Once it has crept into the mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mouth will not bite the tongue to keep it in silence:&lt;br /&gt;The sheer promise of bondage, and whips&lt;br /&gt;Will not be enough to aprehend a thought,&lt;br /&gt;As it travels from ear to misinformed ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will protest,&lt;br /&gt;Because you cannot tell a concept&lt;br /&gt;Not to raise its fist in anger,&lt;br /&gt;And you cannot censor that which only exists in theory.&lt;br /&gt;You cannot tell anarchy to stop in its tracks,&lt;br /&gt;When it's feet only exist in the minds of the oppressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a force out there:&lt;br /&gt;Greater than the media,&lt;br /&gt;Greater than left or right,&lt;br /&gt;Greater than empty lives or promises,&lt;br /&gt;You can try all night to stop the noise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-7847729248161522816?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/7847729248161522816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/musical-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/7847729248161522816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/7847729248161522816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/musical-thoughts.html' title='Idea'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-3476011880233593515</id><published>2008-12-11T22:49:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T23:08:07.359-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='words not mine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><title type='text'>Universe</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The universe may not always play fair, but at least it's got a hell of a sense of humour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;~ Carrie Brandshaw&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-3476011880233593515?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/3476011880233593515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/universe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3476011880233593515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3476011880233593515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/universe.html' title='Universe'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-3900138391207396278</id><published>2008-12-11T22:09:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:09:45.696-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>Speed</title><content type='html'>We are all moving&lt;br /&gt;At the speed of light&lt;br /&gt;Hoping&lt;br /&gt;For someone&lt;br /&gt;To crash into us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And end the speed&lt;br /&gt;At which we fall&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-3900138391207396278?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/3900138391207396278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/speed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3900138391207396278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/3900138391207396278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/speed.html' title='Speed'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827055595026169955.post-4588216175542744518</id><published>2008-12-11T21:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:09:14.923-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>Holidays</title><content type='html'>The Holidays are upon us, once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with the Holidays, comes the Holiday music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Far from the annoying-ness of hearing the some songs sung repeatedly, by different artists (hello Jessica Simpson butchering "Oh Come All Ye Faithful"), but this music is everywhere you go. &lt;em&gt;Everywhere.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of it doesn't even make sense. What is "figgy pudding?" And why do I apparently want some so badly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd rather take a nap than listen to some of it. But I will settle for some Christmas music sung by Josh Groban and Michael Buble.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3827055595026169955-4588216175542744518?l=towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/feeds/4588216175542744518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/holidays.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4588216175542744518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3827055595026169955/posts/default/4588216175542744518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://towards-the-unknown.blogspot.com/2008/12/holidays.html' title='Holidays'/><author><name>Lindsay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_50tlFufiXfo/SUHYS0ZPHCI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ndAk4ulGB1M/S220/11-1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
