<?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-5035694</id><updated>2011-04-21T11:35:09.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Altered Reality</title><subtitle type='html'>I trace a path in the night, aligning each twinkling light. Spelling out your name, a marquee spanning miles as I draw a map of your frame, letting desire etch the style. I gaze in awe under velvet skies, to the heavens that reveal the passion in your eyes. I watch my spirit dance in spiral grace along the profile of your loving face. I see my ghost touch, gently, the stars like braille. Savoring your name beyond your realm. ~Lady Ostara (c) 2002</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>84</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-112296097151196964</id><published>2005-08-01T22:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T22:36:11.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I need someone to talk to,For the first time in a long time,I've always been a lucky person because i've had peopleto listen to me but now they're goneNo one's listening on the other end of the phone,no one is sitting across from me,Dear wishing wings,Seeing your face today brought all the memories back to me, flooding me with emotion, drowning me in sorrow. I wanted to pretend that it didn't </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/112296097151196964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/112296097151196964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2005_07_31_archive.html#112296097151196964' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-110831908165116512</id><published>2005-02-13T10:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-13T10:24:41.653-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Essay from Amanda TongI entered Sam's car as Clark Kent, and left as Super(wo)man.My friend Sam drove me home every day after school since my freshmanyear.  He was a junior at the time, and accepted me as his littlesister.  He was the conduit that introduced me to his network offriends and activities.The daily ride home never felt routine.  I felt like his car was mysanctuary.  I could rant about</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/110831908165116512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/110831908165116512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2005_02_13_archive.html#110831908165116512' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-109639876624620961</id><published>2004-09-28T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-28T12:12:46.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>i love my baby,new word of the daytschuss</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/109639876624620961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/109639876624620961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_09_26_archive.html#109639876624620961' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-109142637238716302</id><published>2004-08-01T22:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-01T22:59:32.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>people often take for granted the friends they really dont see. the ones that are genuine at heart, the ones that really care at the end of the day, the ones that would come to you at the drop of a dime. people only value those who pay them the least attention because it is they that make them feel inferior, subordinate, and necessary to prove their worth.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/109142637238716302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/109142637238716302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109142637238716302' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-108750917735776996</id><published>2004-06-17T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-17T14:52:57.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Juneteenth HolidayMy editor made me feel beyond ignorant for not knowing what June 19th was. I hope that you are far better prepared than I when the topic comes up.Senior Citizens kick off Juneteenth Celebration-Sam LiDaily Texan Staff      Quoting famous Civil Rights activist Dr. Martin Luther King, Mr. Marvin Massie, a UT alumni said, “Free at last , free at last , thank God Almighty, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108750917735776996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108750917735776996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_06_13_archive.html#108750917735776996' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-108750897641109859</id><published>2004-06-17T14:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-17T14:49:36.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A WriterA tribute to MLKWhat makes a good writer? On what scale should we judge? People have complimented me on my writing. Why? What about my writing sets me uniquely different from anyone else? When I read anothers writing, I often find myself giving the same compliment. However, i can not explain why i like their writing in a uniquely different way than i would explain a seperate piece. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108750897641109859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108750897641109859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_06_13_archive.html#108750897641109859' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-108743805590048415</id><published>2004-06-16T19:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-16T19:07:35.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>If you find the time, you should read this. He is an incredible writer and the piece is worth your time.DIAGNOSING AND TREATING THE OPHELIA SYNDROME By Thomas G. Plummer In Hamlet, Act I, Scene 3, Laertes warns his sister, Ophelia, to avoid falling in love with Hamlet, whose advances, he claims, are prompted by fleeting, youthful lust. He cautions her against Hamlet's "unmastered importunity</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108743805590048415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108743805590048415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_06_13_archive.html#108743805590048415' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-108659079343330473</id><published>2004-06-06T23:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-06T23:46:33.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Shades of GreyMy view on politics is abstract. The very idea of writing on the topic confuses my mind. How does one define their political standing? When I see presidential debates, I do not see politics. When I see election ads or platforms, I do not see the democratic process. When I think of political ideology, I try to focus more on what affects me directly. I can not honestly say that I am</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108659079343330473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108659079343330473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_06_06_archive.html#108659079343330473' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-108369579000985878</id><published>2004-05-04T11:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-04T11:40:13.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Secrets of life: - Marc Lewis1. Pretend to be what you are not, and you become who you pretend to be2. You make your own world, your attitudes define your life3. Look at your strengths, they are also your weaknesses4. You have to risk relationships in order to keep them5. Hold your face a certain way, it becomes that way6. Drop the rock, get rid of your worries7. The way to be happy is to</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108369579000985878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108369579000985878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_05_02_archive.html#108369579000985878' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-108249449537422645</id><published>2004-04-20T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-20T13:58:53.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"Who better knows the worth than he who paid the price" - mesounds quotable doesnt it?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108249449537422645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108249449537422645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_04_18_archive.html#108249449537422645' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-108217546894574665</id><published>2004-04-16T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-16T21:21:42.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Growing upI feel like i am a totally different person. I feel as if i've passed into a new stage in life. What has changed? My priorities and my view on life has completely and totally evolved. Have I become an adult? I feel as if adolescence no longer applies to me. I think i have finally become a college student in the purely academic meaning of the word. To you, my life would seem boring, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108217546894574665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/108217546894574665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_04_11_archive.html#108217546894574665' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-107812020927920041</id><published>2004-02-29T21:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-29T21:53:00.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Love conquers allPlot: Man falls in love with woman, woman cheats on man with best friend, Man is hurt and cannot love again, Man meets another woman, Man pushes her away, Man finally gives in to the power of love. We've all experienced jealousy, we've all experienced pain. What sets us apart is how we handle it. The theme of the play is that "love conquers all". In this specific case, Love </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/107812020927920041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/107812020927920041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_02_29_archive.html#107812020927920041' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-107604564800031999</id><published>2004-02-05T21:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-05T21:36:27.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Growth through painever thought about this.. we work our muscles by straining them and making them sore and then letting them grow back stronger than ever. so ofcourse in order to shape ourselves into the kind of person we want to be: strong, confident, and likeable, we have to test ourselves. Push our emotional muscles over their threshhold and let them heal and grow back stronger. Don't be </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/107604564800031999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/107604564800031999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107604564800031999' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-107604489279094896</id><published>2004-02-05T21:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-05T21:23:52.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>UnderstandingWe as humans have our set human characteristics. we have our nature, its very hard to go agains that set natural order. But alison can do it. Shes ok with the fact that i care about my ex. I doubt i;d be able to do the same but my baby loves me, she knows and understands whats important to me and for that i can't show her enough love. TO have someone understand that for you to have</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/107604489279094896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/107604489279094896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107604489279094896' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-107604433336658910</id><published>2004-02-05T21:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-05T21:14:33.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LostShe asks me why i want to keep in touch with people that i havn't talked to in a long time. She asked me why i dwell so much on the past. She says, "Whats the point? You don't understand the power of a hi." She tells me that people move on, that some people actually move on. She doesn't see a point in keeping in touch with people that you don;t normally talk to. Fuck that, if i havnt seen </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/107604433336658910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/107604433336658910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107604433336658910' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-107247851360122144</id><published>2003-12-26T14:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-26T14:43:18.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Comfortabilitycoming back from college changes the way you think about your past friendships. I found myself nervous as hell seeing the friends who i once saw everyday after a whole semester of absence. I think it gives us a true test of friendship, shows us how easily replaced each other are or rather just how important it is that person is to us and vice versa. Seeing marcus, or albert, or </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/107247851360122144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/107247851360122144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_12_21_archive.html#107247851360122144' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106931942392282916</id><published>2003-11-20T01:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-20T01:11:00.390-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Second chancesI know now that my efforts are useless. I thought that eventually she'll give in and open up her mind. I realize now that she will never let me back into her life. Wanting to be friends with her again was absolutely fruitless. But before i put her in my past, before i let her go, my ex will teach me one last lesson. Everyone of us has someone whos hurt us, everyone of us has that </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106931942392282916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106931942392282916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_11_16_archive.html#106931942392282916' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106878699039801539</id><published>2003-11-13T21:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-13T21:16:58.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Who we really areTheres a problem with being long term friends: we can watch each other change. When we make new friends at college, we present ourselves the way we presently have configured our personality to be. New friends know not our past, know not who we once were. I think i've changed alot since i started high school. I went from being overly shy to obnoxiously cocky to carefree reserved</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106878699039801539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106878699039801539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_11_09_archive.html#106878699039801539' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106868653741542746</id><published>2003-11-12T17:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-12T17:22:44.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>For grantedEvery time i learn a lesson about taking things for granted. Now i take another chapter in that book. Being so close and yet so far is how i feel these days. Not being able to talk to her at all now, not having the ability to call her whenever i want to, or even talk on the phone at all has shown me that nothing is gaurenteed. Now every whisper feels like its my birthday and i get a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106868653741542746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106868653741542746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_11_09_archive.html#106868653741542746' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106723435549078303</id><published>2003-10-26T21:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-10-26T21:59:19.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>An insipired creation:   " Baby if you were made out of glass, i'd wet my finger and make you sing."   - Sam li</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106723435549078303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106723435549078303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_10_26_archive.html#106723435549078303' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106683202228267872</id><published>2003-10-22T07:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-22T07:13:43.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LifeWhat do we want in life? We're busy in college studying our majors, fulfilling ciriculum requirements, but what do we want in life? If you could wish for one thing now, a realistic one, what would it be? alison asked me this and to me my priorities came out to be love, career, kids. I want to have a happy marriage, i want to be a sucessful doctor, and i want to have kids who love me. I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106683202228267872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106683202228267872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_10_19_archive.html#106683202228267872' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106683155879168372</id><published>2003-10-22T07:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-22T07:05:58.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Old friendsHow important is it to keep our friends? If we define love into three categories of intimacy, commitment, and passion, my teacher argues that friendship contains intimacy and passion. She argued that who our best friend was in 3rd grade most likely isn't our best friend now. So friendship lacks the commitment part, and no matter how hard we try to deny it, thats true. No matter how </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106683155879168372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106683155879168372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_10_19_archive.html#106683155879168372' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106683103101232556</id><published>2003-10-22T06:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-22T06:57:10.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Overly happyHappy people piss me off. Have you ever had a bad day just by being around too many happy people? I remember once we had earth day at bellaire, and all i did was paint faces all day around some very energetic and happy people. I was doing a mindless activity while everyone around me was laughing their ass off. I didn't find it funny at all and ended up just being pissed off for no </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106683103101232556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106683103101232556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_10_19_archive.html#106683103101232556' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106542236401894194</id><published>2003-10-05T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-05T23:39:23.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SecurityI have a problem. Let me admit it myself. I have security issues. I find myself overly jealous, overly posessive, and entirely hipocritical. Why? It really shows that our past does define our future. She did it to me not only once but twice. To start out with a blank mind, to be all trusting, to open your heart to someone only to have it slammed in your face plants the seed of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106542236401894194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106542236401894194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_10_05_archive.html#106542236401894194' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106506746659574056</id><published>2003-10-01T21:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-01T21:04:26.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What we want to hear...sometimes we all find ourselves in that position where life is tough. No matter how we look at no matter what other people say, we know that things are tough. Even if other people have it worse and there are plenty of things your taking for granted, you realize that what you have this instant, whats important to you, what your life is about is at a point where its </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106506746659574056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106506746659574056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_09_28_archive.html#106506746659574056' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106433893950958184</id><published>2003-09-23T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-23T10:42:19.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PerfectionI should take my own advice. I often find myself brooding over such trivial things in life, and i fail to see the big picture. I let petty arguments consume me and i allow people to control my state of being. But look at the big picture, i have found a best friend and a roommate in one person stemming from a horrible experience with ann, i have enrolled and set my career path in a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106433893950958184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106433893950958184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_09_21_archive.html#106433893950958184' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106392478384145394</id><published>2003-09-18T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-18T15:39:43.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106392478384145394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106392478384145394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_09_14_archive.html#106392478384145394' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106377963607747823</id><published>2003-09-16T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-16T23:20:36.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You guys are right, even if i wanted to, i;m not good at giving up the past and its most likely because i;m not willing to. Everything that has happened to me has contributed to making who i am today, and i can't say i regret my own personal growth because i think compared to my past, i'm now a better person. and i know that N contributed alot. Her memory will always be with me as a reminder of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106377963607747823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106377963607747823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_09_14_archive.html#106377963607747823' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106352556660467038</id><published>2003-09-14T00:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-14T00:46:06.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Letting go,In psych class, one discussion question that was posed was what should we do about ex's. One guy sitting across from me proposed that as we are developing new relationships, old relationships must be left in the past and gotten rid of. He suggested throwing away letters, getting rid of gifts, and never mentioning the other person again. Instantly i found myself arguing with him as if</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106352556660467038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106352556660467038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_09_14_archive.html#106352556660467038' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106316712723031663</id><published>2003-09-09T21:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-09T21:12:07.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I need this for a writting... everyone tell me what they think love is.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106316712723031663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106316712723031663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_09_07_archive.html#106316712723031663' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106316368168881927</id><published>2003-09-09T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-09T20:14:41.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Funny freshman college experience;June and daniel invite me out to have dinner halfway across campus. I being the resourceful person that i am decide to hitch a bus during dinner time which is probably the most high traffic bus time of the day. Realizing that the regular bus WC will not be comming behind that huge line of traffic i quickly dodge into a neighboring bus. Thinking burton drive is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106316368168881927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106316368168881927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_09_07_archive.html#106316368168881927' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106277796733463198</id><published>2003-09-05T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-05T09:06:07.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Since this author is a little shy, i thought i;d put her words here.. debut: my love, alison "What is love?If you start from the beginning, love is two friends sharing an evening together. Love is the feeling of safety at the top of a Ferris wheel. Love is sharing a large melting ice cream Sunday. Love is letting the girl drive for a change. Love is art museums and art films. Love is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106277796733463198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106277796733463198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_31_archive.html#106277796733463198' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106256440403577831</id><published>2003-09-02T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-02T21:46:44.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VanityHowever i claim to be above the superficiality of society, i always find myself in a contradictory situation. Like random thoughts that someones fat or someones not very pretty and the thought just disgusts me. How can i have thoughts like that when my self confidence in my own physical appearance lacks in completeness. I still have no clue what any girl would find attractive in me </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106256440403577831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106256440403577831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_31_archive.html#106256440403577831' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106196405821727960</id><published>2003-08-26T23:00:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T23:00:58.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Like becomes LoveThe Story of UsPRELUDE:			Emotional Evolution	Human beings have evolved over the centuries to become the most advantageously adapted species. We have developed such things as verbal communication, written language, religion, technology, and physical structures. With each development, our social well being becomes stronger. Religion gives us faith, communication brings out </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196405821727960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196405821727960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_archive.html#106196405821727960' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106196404725785846</id><published>2003-08-26T23:00:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T23:00:47.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Chapter ONE:			Mundane Life	The great thing about life is that one day you could be eating food out of a trash can and the next you could be served a ten course meal by a naked cook in 3 inch heels. From the thousands of people around you, to the millions of individual events that occur every second, your life is never written in stone. You can expect something to happen, see it happening, and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196404725785846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196404725785846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_archive.html#106196404725785846' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106196403506843482</id><published>2003-08-26T23:00:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T23:00:34.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Chapter TWO:			Social Interaction	Social interaction is perhaps the most complicated aspect about human nature. I once quoted a poem which said that “one way love is the heaviest weight found on earth”. The emotion of love between two people is definitely far more complex than say differential calculus or mechanical physics. Love can make us blind and do things in which we know to be </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196403506843482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196403506843482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_archive.html#106196403506843482' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106196402306443156</id><published>2003-08-26T23:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T23:00:22.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Chapter THREE:		First impressions	Life is truly like a rollercoaster, one minute you’re breezing by the peak of a look and the next your wallowing in self pity at the base of a dip. Sometimes its better to be down on your luck because eventually your luck will change. Sometimes, it changes in the most unexpected ways. For example, let’s take a few regular coins and place them in the back pocket </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196402306443156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196402306443156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_archive.html#106196402306443156' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106196401097543262</id><published>2003-08-26T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T23:00:10.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Chapter FOUR:		Communication	The invention of the internet not only brought about a technological revolution of advancements in every industrial industry, but also redefined the limits of telecommunication. From the development of writing to the telephone and now to electronic transfer, human beings have made it easier and easier to form contacts. One question that has human beings have faced is</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196401097543262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196401097543262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_archive.html#106196401097543262' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106196399785827595</id><published>2003-08-26T22:59:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T22:59:57.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Chapter FIVE:			Breaking out of the ordinary	I recently talked to my friend who has newly established a relationship liaison with her boyfriend. When questioned how long they have been together, she merely answered that because they hung out every day it was all mixed together and she couldn’t remember. It put a smile on my face knowing that my girl would have something better to say then that. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196399785827595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196399785827595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_archive.html#106196399785827595' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106196398429751808</id><published>2003-08-26T22:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T22:59:44.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Chapter SIX:			Indulgence	Soon, it became obvious how into each other we both were. From kissing her neck and arms to having her bite on my lower lip and suck on my tongue, we indulged in our inner most desires and allowed our passion to be set free and unrestricted. Now the music has stopped and our communication methods have yet to change, if a picture is worth a thousand words then a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196398429751808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196398429751808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_archive.html#106196398429751808' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106196397082190952</id><published>2003-08-26T22:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T22:59:30.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Chapter SEVEN:		Three little words	They always say that happiness can’t last forever, well they were wrong. You’d think distance and time apart would depress you and be death to a relationship. But that only occurs to the weakest of all social bonds. Time apart should be the best test for a relationship; the people who have no complications are the ones who become least appreciative of each </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196397082190952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106196397082190952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_archive.html#106196397082190952' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106195137658556322</id><published>2003-08-26T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T19:29:36.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>University Of Texas At AustinSN: kryptoniteSamEmail: Superman_Sam13@yahoo.comTEL: 5124952786ADDY: M0433 Jester, 201 East 21st street, Austin, Texas 78705</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106195137658556322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106195137658556322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_archive.html#106195137658556322' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106078932441913592</id><published>2003-08-13T08:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T15:47:48.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Cool feelings...Sitting together listening to music downtown with the wind blowing, feet dancing, and voices singing...Walking around in twilight hours steping over waterfalls, arousing imaginations, and eager exploration into each other's soulsFirst rides on a ferris wheel, hands clutching the sides, eyes wandering, only to be caught and held in place in safety high above           the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106078932441913592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106078932441913592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_10_archive.html#106078932441913592' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106078885354389415</id><published>2003-08-13T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T08:39:00.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>RomanticismChivalry is dead... no, no, chivalry lives on in the hearts of many people and its ppl like them that will keep this world from becoming a superficial mindlessly reproducing brothel. One of my friends asked me what my idea of a perfect date would be, i took a long time to answer and random images poped into my head: walk on the beach, ride on a ferris wheel, dinner overlooking the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106078885354389415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106078885354389415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_10_archive.html#106078885354389415' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106078826909701242</id><published>2003-08-13T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T08:29:16.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>TimingLife gives us many oppourtunities to better our social well-being. Although we're plagued with problems with relationships, friends, family, and just life in general, every once in a while we're given a break. Just having set my mind about starting new at college, filled with excitement, i couldn't wait till UT starts and i move in on the 22nd. I felt that i had finally achieved closure </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106078826909701242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106078826909701242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_10_archive.html#106078826909701242' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106029573987203218</id><published>2003-08-07T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-07T15:35:39.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Wat you can and can't do anything aboutIF you were dealing with something that you want to achieve for urself such as ambitious goals in life, then you should definitely expect the damn near impossible out of your potential or else you'll never get anywhere. IF its something you can control, or you have the power to manipulate the circumstances, then ofcourse you have to be first motivated </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106029573987203218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106029573987203218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_03_archive.html#106029573987203218' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106026121676874328</id><published>2003-08-07T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-07T06:00:16.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Deal with itHaving to fight for something always makes it better except sometimes it'd just be nice for something to work out. But it doesn't, i wish it would, things would be so much easier but its not going to and i';m just going to have to deal with it. There are so many things that each one of us complain about every day because we're so wrapped up in our lives that we fail to see the whole</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106026121676874328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106026121676874328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_03_archive.html#106026121676874328' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106023348503085320</id><published>2003-08-06T22:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-06T22:18:04.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>my name is sam!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106023348503085320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106023348503085320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_03_archive.html#106023348503085320' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106009163114132802</id><published>2003-08-05T06:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-05T06:53:50.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Happy Birthday Quentin</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106009163114132802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106009163114132802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_03_archive.html#106009163114132802' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-106009127377947788</id><published>2003-08-05T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-05T06:47:53.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Expectations,After senior year, pessimism for me has to be second nature. I hafta assume that the worse can always happen. There are so many times during senior year where i thought, "This is incredible, i;m so lucky to be where i am right now" only to find the next day to be completely dissasterous. I remember how i felt during spring break, the first time that i had so much fun on spring </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106009127377947788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/106009127377947788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_03_archive.html#106009127377947788' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-105992417075237645</id><published>2003-08-03T08:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-03T08:22:50.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Second chances...we get so few second chances in life. wait no, we come to realize those real second chances a little too late and then when we are ready for that chance we find that its already too late. YOu hafta go through life attentive and ready to sieze the day. OF all the things i regret, most of them i had a chance to make them right, thats how life usually goes, we bitch and we </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105992417075237645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105992417075237645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_08_03_archive.html#105992417075237645' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-105968744147450977</id><published>2003-07-31T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-31T14:37:21.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>INdependencenot having to rely on thers for happiness. makes sense that you should advise that i should achieve that instead of looking towards others to satisfy my needs. Thats what im trying to do but my thoughts sometimes do linger back to memories and thats all my blog reflects so thank you for your insights. Your absolutely right, i have to move on and be able to find happiness regaurdless </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105968744147450977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105968744147450977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_07_27_archive.html#105968744147450977' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-105952444593292429</id><published>2003-07-29T17:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-29T17:20:45.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What is love? U know that saying that if you love something, let it go, if it comes back thenyou know its true love. ONly one folly in that thought process, how are you supposed to let someone you love go, let them go out and see if there is anything out there better than you only to find that they made a mistake and come back to you. Would you be able to take that person back after they've had </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105952444593292429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105952444593292429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_07_27_archive.html#105952444593292429' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-105829752905104750</id><published>2003-07-15T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-15T12:32:08.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>sounds better in chinese</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105829752905104750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105829752905104750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_07_13_archive.html#105829752905104750' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-105829311472182352</id><published>2003-07-15T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-15T11:18:34.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Anyone will become sad for one way loveWe always think that love is very very heavyand is the heaviest weight one finds on earthOne day, When we look back we find that It has always been very very lightWe thought our love was very very deepbut in the future you will knowit was indeed very very superficial</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105829311472182352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105829311472182352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_07_13_archive.html#105829311472182352' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-105784260260522839</id><published>2003-07-10T06:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-10T06:10:02.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Going to boston made me want so many things, what impacted me most was randomly encountering this teenage couple in the subway. They couldnt' keep their hands off each other, every step they took, they took in unison in fear of losing that physical connection between their lust for each other. Even while conversing with me, their gazes shot back to assure themselves of the continual presence of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105784260260522839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105784260260522839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_07_06_archive.html#105784260260522839' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-105784210646614393</id><published>2003-07-10T06:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-07-10T06:01:46.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Summers almost over, or at least i feel that way and i really havn't been able to do much with my friends, we talked about not letting go and hanging out all summer and all that stuff but we end up leading our own lives seperate from one another too busy to realize that when we do find the time to miss each other, it'll be too late. Am i the only one that feels this way? Clearly what i say has to</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105784210646614393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/105784210646614393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_07_06_archive.html#105784210646614393' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-95968803</id><published>2003-06-23T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-06-23T20:53:13.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Randomness...I feel like i jump from one random emotion to the next, living on the pure rollercoaster of whatever pops into my mind. This weekend i had a blast at marcus's barbeque, let loose and drank my ass off friday night, i ended up really opening up and just saying anything that came to mind and the topics i talked about probably reveal how i feel about life. If so, i'm obviously still </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95968803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95968803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_06_22_archive.html#95968803' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-95781019</id><published>2003-06-17T22:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-06-17T22:42:40.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I used to inspire poetry, what kinda great feeling is that? I'mma be proud for a moment..Great memories.. no matter where i stand with her now, we always had great memories" "letters to superman"sweet hello, sweet expectance... the amber streaks across the eyes, as the chariot rose and fell... you rearranged the stars, you rearranged my heart. something heralded your defiance, and i </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95781019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95781019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_06_15_archive.html#95781019' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-95674194</id><published>2003-06-14T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-06-14T18:56:18.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Natasha..You realize how much value something has until after you've lost it. I wish i could of realized how much she loved me,.. and just how rare that was.I wish i wasnt so cocky and blind and seen the way she cared for me.I wish i realized that she was the best thing that happened to me at bellaire.. sooner.I wish she could look into my eyes and realize exactly how i feel now... I wish </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95674194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95674194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_06_08_archive.html#95674194' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-95673934</id><published>2003-06-14T18:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-06-14T18:42:26.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dance..Last nights remix party was great, i only hope everyone else had as much fun as i did, being the tech guy, after setting everything up i have no role during the dance except having fun which is super great while albert has to fix the drinks and jonathan has to dj. Dancing with lots people was even better and its then i truely shed myself of the jealousy of people with girlfriends or </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95673934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95673934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_06_08_archive.html#95673934' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-95143600</id><published>2003-05-31T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-31T22:47:45.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Albert, Adam, Jonathan, guy best friends..Why is it that at the very end of having four years of high school with these guys do i only now become such close friends with them? I had four years to get to where i am now and now they're all leaving me. Alberts going to cornell, adams gong to BU, Jonathan is going to Rice, whatever happend to me rooming with adam and albert rooming with jonathan at </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95143600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95143600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#95143600' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-95143393</id><published>2003-05-31T22:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-31T22:39:54.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm caught up in the swirl of life. Schools over and i;m trying desperatly to capture every last ounce of my friends in the slight chance that i never get to see them again. These past few weeks have just been a string of parties and get togethers. They've all been a blast but i feel so empty, i'm stuck in a paradox, everyone has someone now and they're all off in their own little world. Nobody </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95143393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/95143393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#95143393' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-94475643</id><published>2003-05-16T16:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-16T16:31:23.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>happiness is an emotion, emotions are a state of mind, thus at any given moment, with any circumstances, if we learn how to change our state of mind, we can obtain perpetual happiness. Live life that way, i am and i realize that i am not as alone as i had thought, i have so many friends which i should be grateful for, and I am, thank you all. Especially q.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/94475643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/94475643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_05_11_archive.html#94475643' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-94294738</id><published>2003-05-13T16:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-13T16:36:00.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>thanx q. i've let it go.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/94294738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/94294738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_05_11_archive.html#94294738' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-94229520</id><published>2003-05-12T15:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-12T15:34:03.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>i dont know what hurt more, when she didnt say my name when the lady asked which one of us was her date. or being ditched at afterprom. john warned me, and i didnt think it would happen, but my naieveness made me blind. but stuff like this only make you stronger as a person. so, thank you. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/94229520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/94229520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_05_11_archive.html#94229520' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-93523919</id><published>2003-04-30T04:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-30T04:02:15.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Deal with it,What am i doing? I'm acting like a little bitch, complaining left and right. How did this happen? I've prided myself in not pulling shit like this and here i am complaining about every little thing. I have everything i could ask for, I don't need anything else. Life is good. And we're alll going to have a great end of senior year. I guess i'm planning beach sunday, tell me whos up </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/93523919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/93523919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_04_27_archive.html#93523919' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-93328567</id><published>2003-04-26T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-26T21:49:19.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>alone...Senior year, who woulda thought. Everyones with someone, the single people wait person sits on the side watching the couples. All our proclaimations of partying and having so much fun senior year; big game hunts; the clubbing guys; everyone has now become part of a pair. Its kinda scarry when everyone around you has a bf or a gf. The other person whos single ignores me like i have a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/93328567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/93328567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_04_20_archive.html#93328567' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-92956111</id><published>2003-04-20T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-20T18:33:56.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Strength...We define strength in so many different ways. They are catagoraized into physical and mental. When we want to build up physical strength, we push our muscles beyond their normal range of motion to cause it pain. We stretch the tendons and ligaments to extremeties never before felt and through which they grow back stronger and more durable. It should thus be that our mental strength </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/92956111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/92956111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_04_20_archive.html#92956111' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-92752401</id><published>2003-04-16T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-16T19:22:08.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PromI have built prom up so much, i don't know why. I think the splendor and gossip about how grand prom should be comming from books, magazines, movies, and general commentary has built prom up so much in my mind. I have developed an almost utter obsession in making it my funnest memory of high school for both myself and my date. What makes it even better is the complexity and forbiddeness of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/92752401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/92752401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_04_13_archive.html#92752401' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-92752037</id><published>2003-04-16T19:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-16T19:15:15.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Independence..Our lives revolve so much around other people. If u asked me whether or not i cared for what other people think, i'd have to say yes. To some degree we all live our lives through the eyes of someone else. What is it about the construction of the human soul that makes us long for the approval of others? Can you not be happy alone? To appreciate life we've all found that it is best </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/92752037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/92752037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_04_13_archive.html#92752037' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-92188241</id><published>2003-04-07T18:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-07T18:26:10.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Life..."have you ever noticed that the word "if" is in the middle of life?" - the russian in heart of darkness. Sitting here looking at my day, I try to remember all the things that made me laugh or made it a good day. Most of which is random quirks that my friends do or just frivolous making fun of other people. Our lives are so ordinary, we're trapped in a mundane world full of repetition and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/92188241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/92188241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_04_06_archive.html#92188241' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-91387777</id><published>2003-03-25T19:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-25T19:32:55.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've had a bad day again...she said i would not understandshe left a note and said I'm sorry I had a bad day againSpilled her coffee broke a shoelacesmeared the lipstick on her faceslammed the door and said i'm sorry Ihad a bad day again...no profound thoughts this time. my mind's empty. it hurts. but i;m independent, i;m strong, i can get through this. i had a bad day again...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/91387777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/91387777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_03_23_archive.html#91387777' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-91317006</id><published>2003-03-24T18:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-24T18:06:53.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>college::However borring philosophy class may be, it still brings up thoughts that you never really sit down and consider. We're all so wrapped in our senior year that we follow the traditional paths that everyone takes. Scrable to get your applications in to the schools that you would want to go to and pray that you get in. We either get dissapointed or for some reason our school of choice </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/91317006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/91317006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_03_23_archive.html#91317006' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-91025437</id><published>2003-03-19T16:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-19T16:51:07.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>blank starelonging eyesquivering lipmind racingtorturous silencewhen you look at the person standing infront of you, you are overwhemled with memories of the past where you've spent countless hours talking, having fun, and just being with your friend. Somehow, you ended up here, with a detached long time no see look on your face. When we fade out of a close friend's life, we do it so </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/91025437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/91025437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#91025437' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-90560069</id><published>2003-03-11T18:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-11T18:28:47.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PROMI don't understand the date concept for prom, people say prom is a "date" dance. Why? "because its prom!" annd? "you want to go with someone special" so your friends arn't special? "its not that, its prom." If prom truely is the last dance we have in our high school time period, why should we confine ourselves to one date? If its the last chance for me to dance with someone i;m gonna take </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/90560069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/90560069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_03_09_archive.html#90560069' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-90154017</id><published>2003-03-04T19:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-04T19:46:18.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Learning through mistakes... is there a better way to learn? I am thoroughly convinced that human beings learn best from trial and error. I'm ashamed to say but in elementary school, all of us were infatuated with the cool pens and pencils. Yes i went to alief, give me a break. Since my parents would never buy me the "cool" pens and pencils, i somehow got into the habit of shoplifting. I never </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/90154017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/90154017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_03_02_archive.html#90154017' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-90030025</id><published>2003-03-02T19:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-03-02T19:51:43.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Feeling of insignificance... Why do we want a boyfriend or a girlfriend? why is it so important? why do we get so jealous? Philosphy class asked us whether or not something exists when you don't look at it. How do you know the sun exists when its night time? You only believe that its still there, u do not have any proof that it actually is. We natually want to exist not only in our own minds but </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/90030025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/90030025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_03_02_archive.html#90030025' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-88956262</id><published>2003-02-11T21:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-11T21:11:18.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>is it possible to end a relationship and stay as friends? i can't say it is possible and i can't say it isnt. I have contradictory ideas on this subject. and based on mr.phillip's fundamental mathematical proof, my contradiction makes me crazy. A realtionship cannot function as a sole friendship because the relationship was ended in which one person wanted the break and the other person did not. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88956262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88956262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88956262' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-88954233</id><published>2003-02-11T20:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-11T20:27:31.543-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>my theory on religion: in the beginning there was a supreme being, (not associated with the universe) but more like a watcher over mankind. he presented himself to all the people on earth in many different ways. These ways have been termed christianity, islam, judaism, buddhism, etc... having the goal to spread moralistic and ethical foundations among man, this supreme being decided that the best</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88954233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88954233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88954233' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-88953474</id><published>2003-02-11T20:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-11T20:12:20.073-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Jjsslsqls:  true story?cookie5825:  !??!  cookie5825:  are these estories true? do i really strike you as the kind of person who would sit here, think up a story like that, and try to pass it off as true if it weren't true? yes its a true story. jezus christ, the fact that you people think i;d make this up insults me. the second one is even more unbelievable. wtf is wrong with ya;ll. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88953474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88953474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88953474' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-88952304</id><published>2003-02-11T19:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-11T20:59:29.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>... guess not....</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88952304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88952304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88952304' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-88832056</id><published>2003-02-09T20:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-09T20:25:45.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>asdfasdf</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88832056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88832056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88832056' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5035694.post-88832055</id><published>2003-02-09T20:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-02-09T20:25:39.350-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>sam's blog</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88832055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5035694/posts/default/88832055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteredreality.blogspot.com/2003_02_09_archive.html#88832055' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07594876404992697320</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
