<?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-5832659745846935712</id><updated>2012-02-16T00:06:15.484-08:00</updated><category term='Alex Woodrow'/><category term='Robbie Ernst'/><category term='The Closing of the American Mind by Allan Bloom'/><title type='text'>Anything And Everything, All Of The Time</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>77</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6784468306892991412</id><published>2011-03-09T22:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T23:20:43.667-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time to just be honest, and say whatever the hell I want.</title><content type='html'>It has been quite a while, and rightly so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a break from writing in my blog, though unofficially. It came to the point where I lost track of my purpose. Started writing to get my thoughts out so I could look at them. Turned into a way to express myself through words. Then it became some sort of pattern that I automatically went along with which didn't flesh out my thoughts or allow expression. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still don't know the point of a blog, some put a crap load of pictures up, videos, "art projects" that kind of thing. I guess this is more of a selfish type blog in that I write in it not for people to read but so that I can just say what I want to say....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Some of the thoughts that have been going through my head...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"girls with blond hair, like really really naturally blond hair and ice blue eyes. yowza." (See lead singer of the knife Karin Dreijer Andersson for reference.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"girls with dark hair and light eyes. yowza."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've forgotten what it feels like to create something. I think it feels good. a painful sort of good."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Need, need, need, need, need, to help people before I lose myself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good Lord."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm glad I don't have to worry about a girl."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wish I could love someone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" :) "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm glad I'm not married. I'm glad I don't have kids. I'm glad I can do whatever the hell I want."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't deserve this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"People who are hypercritical or cynical or angry or hypersensitive or bitter make me very, very, very sad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I love freckles."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wish I had bigger eyes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wish hard work yielded success. Seems luck has more to do with it than anything."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of explaining myself, elaborating till I'm exhausted. Succinct is sweet. I'm tired of caring about what other people think about me, I just care. I've stopped trying to be nice, I'm just myself, I don't need to try to do anything. I've found I don't like the natural me. I'm content, though not in my short comings or lack of self control, just in what I've already attained and what I will attain in the future. Success defines me, it's the manifestation of God's blessing in my life. It's Grace, it's forgiveness, it's love. It's God's hand on my life. It's Joseph as the second in command of Egypt. I've spent my time in the dungeon's, in the bottom of a pit. Though I don't doubt I may be lowered into a pit again, it won't be by my hand, it will be by the caring hand of God. He shapes me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J'espere je sourrais parler mieux francais que je parle maintenent. J'espere je pourrais recontrer un(e) ami(e) que parler francais. Etre le mien. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6784468306892991412?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6784468306892991412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6784468306892991412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6784468306892991412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6784468306892991412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2011/03/time-to-just-be-honest-and-say-whatever.html' title='Time to just be honest, and say whatever the hell I want.'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4928610109446045955</id><published>2009-11-29T19:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T20:35:36.962-08:00</updated><title type='text'>12 hours later</title><content type='html'>don't wanna clean the dirt from my fingernails&lt;br /&gt;don't wanna sleep cuz I won't remember I was there&lt;br /&gt;don't wanna dream cuz my memories will fade&lt;br /&gt;don't wanna stay here, I'll never be the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;broken hearts, and smiling faces&lt;br /&gt;dirty streets and dirtier faces&lt;br /&gt;don't wanna leave but we're needed in other places&lt;br /&gt;set it up, tear it down and then we leave&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't wanna leave the land of rolling tongues&lt;br /&gt;don't wanna leave the need I better come back soon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my heart is there but my head is here&lt;br /&gt;it's tearing away but the end is near&lt;br /&gt;I hear the promise that i'll go back soon&lt;br /&gt;oh please let it be sooner rather than later&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm needed, I'm needed.&lt;br /&gt;You're need, You're needed.&lt;br /&gt;Oh please let me go back soon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much can be said to sum up my trip. But I'll try. &lt;br /&gt;We set up make-shift clinics in 6 spots throughout Mexicali. Basic triage, consultation with physicians and prescription/administration of meds; it was the most reaffirming trip of my life.  I had fun struggling with the language and actually picked up quite a bit.  Made a lot of friends with local kids and adults and learned some very valuable and applicable skills towards my future profession.  Before I left I told myself and God that this trip would determine the role of medicine in my future, which might have been a bold declaration, but I feel it was necessary.  Needless to say I could have stayed in Mexicali, at the clinic we were based out of, for the rest of my life.  To serve with the professionals around Mexicali to meet the needs of the locals reaffirmed my mission in life which is: To serve with the people of a different culture to meet the needs of those who normally do not receive medical attention.  I developed my mission statement before going to mexico without having experienced what its like to serve the medical needs of the people of a different culture, but I am sure of my mission now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only qualm is I want to work in a more fast paced medical environment, life and death kind of situations.  So I'm thinking ER. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Highlights of my trip:&lt;br /&gt;-Three local women were in the triage station and Mitch, Rakan and myself were attending to their vitals and they started to make fun of Rakan.  The amazing thing is that wherever Rakan goes he is made fun of, but in a good way, you know?  He is kind of a big loveable teddy bear and has the best laugh I have ever heard, definitely one of my best friends down at APU, and so I joined in with the women and we made fun of Rakan.  At one point, I tried to communicate to the women that we do NOT speak very much spanish and they said "we do NOT speak english!!!" (in spanish of course) and so we kept gesturing to each other our inability to communicate and we ended up laughing at each other and our shared predicament. It was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The last night we were in Cuernavaca several girls on the special needs team were in the sick bay because of a bug or food poisoning and we were injecting them with fenigrin (an anti-nausea medication) so that they could maintain healthy hydration levels and one girl was unstable, borderline hypothermic and horribly dehydrated, so katie (our PA) decided to get her on an IV saline drip.  [I don't want to seem like I am tooting my own horn in this story but it was a very exciting moment for me, so keep that in mind] Anyways, for those who don't know my background, I'm a phlebotomist (one who draws blood, works with needles) and volunteered my skills, but the doctor insisted he try as well as his fiance (a nurse) and they both missed.  This poor girl was stuck five times.  Then I tried and got it first try.  I've never been the clutch person in a medical situation but to be that person and get it first try, felt really good.  I won't go on and explain all the details, but she (the patient) was very grateful and within half an hour and 500 ml of saline she looked soooo much better.  It felt great to have been the key player in the recovery of a patient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The second day we were set up in a poor community for the whole day.  Since we were there for so long, all of the kids around the area came and played with us.  Rakan was made fun of by the kids (they called him gordito, or fat haha) and they called me nacho libre.  One of the little kids, estephania, became really attached to us and brought us candy and all sorts of little things.  Rakan gave her a prayer in arabic he bought in Jordan and I was going to give her my HPI bracelet from Hume but couldn't find it.  The cutest thing was she brought Rakan and I bracelets that say "Orgullosamente mexicano" or proud to be a mexican and tied them onto our wrists.  To sum it up we had a real connection with the kids and spent most of the day playing with them, playing soccer, throwing the paquito ninos y ninas up in the air and chasing them around.  It was amazing.   :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now here I am, at starbucks, around 12 hours after we got back.  We got in at 6am and I slept until 6pm.  All I can think about is how I want to go back and I have so much to do to finish up the semester.  One of these days I'll serve long term, ideally for the rest of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4928610109446045955?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4928610109446045955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4928610109446045955' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4928610109446045955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4928610109446045955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/11/12-hours-later.html' title='12 hours later'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-1840156743213904668</id><published>2009-11-06T23:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T23:34:35.377-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two posts in one night...</title><content type='html'>Crazy night.&lt;br /&gt;Gave cigarettes to a minor, unknowingly. definitely need to be more careful. also talked with a friend who is in need of some major prayer. he wants to kill himself, doesn't think that God loves him, has some major MAJOR deep pain due to horrible things people in his life has done to him. my heart grieves for him and I pray that God touches him tonight. If you are reading this, please please pray for him, right now. he needs to heal and I know it is only God who can do that. jeez. sometimes I feel so helpless and unable to mend anything. I try my best to bless people, but I have limitations. I have a soft heart and it is taken advantage of. I am ok with that. God. will you speak for me and act for me. that is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-1840156743213904668?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/1840156743213904668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=1840156743213904668' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1840156743213904668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1840156743213904668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/11/two-posts-in-one-night.html' title='Two posts in one night...'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-8943000946990135362</id><published>2009-11-06T21:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T23:22:32.055-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Works in Progress</title><content type='html'>Can Somebody tell me,&lt;br /&gt;tell me how to be free.&lt;br /&gt;Free from all the things that I do&lt;br /&gt;to hurt me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You've got to control your&lt;br /&gt;emotions, son. You should know&lt;br /&gt;that you are much wiser&lt;br /&gt;than you let yourself believe."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can somebody tell me,&lt;br /&gt;tell me how to believe.&lt;br /&gt;Believe that one soon she'll&lt;br /&gt;be next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're lonely, you've told me&lt;br /&gt;but when it's right I'm sure you'll see.&lt;br /&gt;But 'till then you've got to,&lt;br /&gt;you gotta set yourself free."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is freedom a place? Is freedom a state?&lt;br /&gt;Is freedom a sound I cannot hear?&lt;br /&gt;Make a blind man see, make a doubter believe&lt;br /&gt;Make me free!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;while on the sea&lt;br /&gt;sailing further from the beach&lt;br /&gt;I saw an angel touch down on the shore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with one wave &lt;br /&gt;of her hand&lt;br /&gt;the last glimpse &lt;br /&gt;of the land&lt;br /&gt;disappeared once again&lt;br /&gt;as we traveled onto ports unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blessed wind &lt;br /&gt;fill our sails&lt;br /&gt;and match our fins&lt;br /&gt;with the speed of the waves below&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-8943000946990135362?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/8943000946990135362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=8943000946990135362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8943000946990135362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8943000946990135362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/11/two-works-in-progress.html' title='Two Works in Progress'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-561237094609004543</id><published>2009-10-17T14:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T14:23:27.768-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An amazing story, great idea, for halloween</title><content type='html'>"I grew up in a college town, and one Halloween our doorbell rang and we opened the door expecting to see trickortreater—but what was in front of our open door—was another door! Like, a full-on wooden door, that had a sign that said “Please knock.” So we did, and the door swung open to reveal a bunch of college dudes dressed as really old grandmothers, curlers in their hair, etc, who proceeded to coo over our “costumes” and tell us we were “such cute trick or treaters!” One even pinched my cheek. Then THEY gave US candy, closed their door, picked it up and walked to the next house." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-anonymous&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-561237094609004543?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/561237094609004543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=561237094609004543' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/561237094609004543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/561237094609004543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/10/amazing-story-great-idea-for-halloween.html' title='An amazing story, great idea, for halloween'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4470682905190426439</id><published>2009-09-27T15:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T15:50:25.782-07:00</updated><title type='text'>start of first novel: Failure</title><content type='html'>Is to fail to lose? No, to fail is to be given the opportunity to try again, to give up is to lose. Even the bravest men fear failure, as if a definite end were attached to it. To lose a battle, to lose a love, to lose victory, there is some amount of loss in all of these, but if failure meant to lose indefinitely, none would be strong enough to try again. I say to fail is to win; to win the opportunity to succeed, to triumph, to learn, to change. To lose is to give up. True bravery is found in the ability to stand up after a crushing defeat or to learn to live after choosing the easy way out. The bravest man is not the one who wins the most and thus never faces failure, but the one who fails the most and repeatedly tries again. True bravery, true valor, true fortitude and strength are found in those who have never won, but have never lost the will to try again. Only those who lose the will to carry on are those who truly fail, who truly are defeated. Brevity is measured by failures, not by victories.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4470682905190426439?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4470682905190426439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4470682905190426439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4470682905190426439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4470682905190426439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/09/start-of-first-novel-failure.html' title='start of first novel: Failure'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4833503352868880121</id><published>2009-09-24T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T17:02:17.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>video dating</title><content type='html'>Tuesday I was watching this ridiculous dating video from 87 that was probably the funniest thing i've seen in a long time. Go and watch it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here it is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQ-O3c1sjjI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I was so inspired that I decided to create my own dating video and started gaining some momentum by writing all of the one-liners I could think of in one sitting. I think they are real winners. I will be single no-mo babay!!! the ladies be flockin to meeeeeee....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here they are...&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is like jungle and I am Tarzan. will you be my Jane?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is like a fish tank without other fish. Very lonely. Please, join me in my fish tank?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello, I am looking for a man... I mean, a woman. Really any woman, that is muscular, with well built calves, and while body hair isn’t a must, I wouldn’t mind something to grab a hold of, or braid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is like the ocean. and I am like a lobster, the last lobster. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is like the ocean, and I am like a whale. I may be big, but I have a lot of lovin to give.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine living your life feeling like everybody is afraid of you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is like shark infested water, you never know if you’ll live until to take a risk and dive in. Well, I am Alex and I am looking for a certain someone, who will dive in with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not too picky, and am very flexible. for example I don’t like leg hair, if you have leg hair, I just... I just can’t handle it... no offense. however I wouldn’t mind lending a razor in the case that you do have leg hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, life is like a cage that I am stuck in. I am looking for someone to let me out of my cage. We could run, like wild horses, and make love like pigs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking for someone who is caring, doting, and compassionate. If you look at it this way, Life is like a race, and I started it with a broken leg. Will you heal me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi my name is Alex, you have probably already noticed my muscular build and thick beard. If you like lumberjacks, then I am your man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi my name is Alex. I am a student by day, and party animal by night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi my name is Alex, I am looking for someone who likes to toboggan, go ice fishing and and go frozen tundra camping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello, do you ever find yourself wondering, “Will I ever meet a real man”, well now you have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello, I am a doctoral student studying the mating patterns of gerbils. I have quite a lot I could show you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m looking for someone with a good sense of humor, who likes to have fun, and can joke around. its, this is important to me, because I have a truly wild sense of humor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4833503352868880121?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4833503352868880121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4833503352868880121' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4833503352868880121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4833503352868880121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/09/video-dating.html' title='video dating'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-7998172194833347152</id><published>2009-09-10T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T13:26:12.384-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Acting</title><content type='html'>I am perplexed by my place in acting. Being in the fundamentals of acting for theatre majors was kind of disheartening. I am glad that will be allowed to stay and learn, but to be learning with a highly focused group of students and with a teacher whose focus is to motivate and challenge future professionals is challenging my place as an actor at APU. I love acting. I love it. Everything about it. I want to learn more, I want to act more, I want to be challenged; but one thing that I cannot do, which was demanded by Jill, is attain total commitment to training. I just can't. Because of schedule and money, I am too far into the collegiate process to switch focuses. But oh how I love acting. My learning is limited, the amount that I will be taught is limited for Jill's focus is on theatre majors, while she is not cold enough to disinclude me, I am on the side burner-not a priority- a theater minor. I found myself questioning my major, questioning my reasons for being in the class. Sure I have passion, I have a hell of a lot of it. But I fell victim to the circumstances that limit me from interaction with the department. Oh woe is me. Not to say that I won't get a lot out of the the classes I am taking, but as to where I will go with them, that is the question. There is really crappy spanish worship music in the background. The sound of lower classmen giggling wildly about God knows what, who knows if they even really care about school. I am not bitter. I am perplexed. I am in an acting limbo. Limping my way through my college career with each limb dipped into different academic pools. A brain too immersed in learning, too interested in too diverse of fields, desiring complete commitment to each, cruely torn between passions. I lack the ability to determine what my future holds. Should I stay another two years to complete a BFA? Should I commit my life to acting, to pursue the technique, form and discipline of a professional? The passion is there, the innate yearning to improve is there; some would say that that is all that is necessary. I've heard it said that talent is simply courage, they are one in the same. I am courageous, but how courageous. Damn...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-7998172194833347152?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/7998172194833347152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=7998172194833347152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7998172194833347152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7998172194833347152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/09/acting.html' title='Acting'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4896352405805370957</id><published>2009-08-20T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T22:13:07.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The new heroes journey</title><content type='html'>The heroic journey usually goes as follows:&lt;br /&gt;1. Departure&lt;br /&gt;This is usually when the main character is presented with the journey ahead of him, namely his fate, if looked at from that perspective. The main character can then accept his fate, deny it, or any other combination therein. This may occur in several ways. He could deny it first, then go through circumstances that force his choice (through good or bad forces), he could deny then be begged by those in need, or he could be asked by a higher authority (old man, God, spirits, ancestors etc...) which may or may not give him supernatural powers or the courage to continue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Initiation&lt;br /&gt;This stage is as simple as it sounds. The main character must face odds, obstacles of some kind must be overcome to prove his worthiness and ability to continue the journey. This may take their shape in several ways. I won't go into detail, you can fill in the blanks just fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Return&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the main character faced, he must make a choice, whether to return or not to return. He may not want to return. This may be due to love or to inability (such as death). But may return as well. The reasons are left up to the reader, in this case, and the author in most cases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What occurred to me as I was thinking about the typical heroic journey is what ones life would be like if they had chosen to not undertake the journey. I mean really, without redemption or a second chance. I think going through the emotions that he/she may feel would be very interesting. Guilt, regret, relief, fear, really who knows how one would feel. But I can't think of a story that begins with a hero who did not have the courage to begin at all, and chose to reject the call. Wouldn't we be able to relate with that more? Failure is more familiar to us than courage and brevity. Not to say that we aren't capable of doing great things, but many of us daydream about not taking chances as much as we dream that we do. Anyways, I think that one would have as great of a heroic journey dealing with that choice as one who battled dragons or traveled to a distant land. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to write a story surrounding that concept. I also do want to write about far distant lands with magnificent imagery and heroics, but I myself would seem more likely to back out of an opportunity to do such a thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways, just an idea. Let me know what you think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4896352405805370957?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4896352405805370957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4896352405805370957' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4896352405805370957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4896352405805370957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/08/new-heroes-journey.html' title='The new heroes journey'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-589969871950403267</id><published>2009-08-06T01:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T01:14:24.532-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Schedule :)</title><content type='html'>I've noticed a routine consisting of leisure and borderline sloth-like activities develop over the past months. My days go as follows.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up: 11am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eat breakfast. Smoke cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then: either read [pick one of following: Animorphs, CS Lewis or LOTR] or watch food network until "lunch" usually accompanied by cigarettes and some type of summery drink&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 or 3 pm: eat some sort of "lunch", usually sandwich or another lighter option&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;rest of afternoon: read or watch t.v.     see the pattern ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7pm: eat dinner with my family, then watch more t.v. or read more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest of night: stay up stupid late watching more t.v./reading while smoking cigarettes and snacking occasionally or hanging out with friends (mainly the first option)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2-3am: go to bed finally, exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aaaaaaaannnnddd repeat. Hopefully if I keep this up I will end up actually wanting to go back to school when the time comes ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-589969871950403267?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/589969871950403267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=589969871950403267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/589969871950403267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/589969871950403267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/08/summer-schedule.html' title='Summer Schedule :)'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-927454214509342940</id><published>2009-06-27T18:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T18:21:18.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A question to ponder</title><content type='html'>What identity need did she satisfy that led to this obsession?&lt;p&gt;Step 1: Write to her, tell her I am over her.&lt;p&gt;Step 2: Find out how to deal with this.&lt;p&gt;Step 3: Get a map. Try not to get too lost.&lt;p&gt;"As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape." - John Lancaster Spalding&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-927454214509342940?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/927454214509342940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=927454214509342940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/927454214509342940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/927454214509342940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/06/question-to-ponder.html' title='A question to ponder'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4005972476468239878</id><published>2009-06-16T22:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T22:26:34.205-07:00</updated><title type='text'>summer-beauty</title><content type='html'>This time last year I was infected with good vibrations and an obsession with a certain someone. Life is much sober this time around. Life is good. But definitely not anything to get excited about. No love interest. No adventures... yet ;)... No, I'm just working and writing. I'm working on a project that I am calling Terra belle. The purpose is to focus on beauty. Things that I, as well as other people, find beautiful. Like the earth. Terra belle roughly translates into earth beauty. I find that nature, especially the ocean or any body of water, the mountains, the sky (especially when covered by clouds), and let me tell you, clouds are my favorite things in the whole world. They are never the same, never still, always graceful; truly they are a miracle!! I think my favorite memories as a child were when my family would go on long road trips. We would travel non-stop (with the occasional bathroom break) from northern california to central oregon and the sky was my muse. From San Jose to the oregon border, flat expanses of farmland and pastures set against the golden foothills would entertain me for the first few hours. But as soon as the landscape morphed into glorious pine laden mountains I knew it was time to snuggle into a blanket and keep my eyes on the sky. The sky would turn from an open void to a tumultuously turning canvas of grays and purples. At times the cloud bank would break and a few hundred miles ahead...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4005972476468239878?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4005972476468239878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4005972476468239878' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4005972476468239878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4005972476468239878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/06/summer-beauty.html' title='summer-beauty'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-5309647235861715091</id><published>2009-05-19T23:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T00:04:35.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am lazy and selfish</title><content type='html'>It is a fact and I can't escape it. Over the past few days it has become obvious how selfish I am. Everything I do is about me and I don't want to change that. Even at the very foundation of who I am as a person I ultimately only care about myself. To the point that I don't want to change it. This may seem simple and common but I am serious about this. It is a problem. A very serious problem. I mean I can't think of one thing that I have done that in the end didn't have something in it for me. When I help people, I do it because it feels good. I have never been in a relationship with a woman before because I just can't accept imperfections and if its not perfect than I don't want it because it would be too hard. I am a child. I don't want to change. Honestly I think the one thing that would teach me to love someone unconditionally without getting anything out of it is to be in a relationship. It would be hard as hell. I would have to ignore everything I felt and thought and just say to myself, stop being a baby and love this woman. God I am so selfish. All I can write about is me, all I can think about is me. God doesn't even have a hand in my life because I don't want to make an effort!!! It sickens me and yet I don't move. God's actions aren't limited by mine though. Jeez grow up alex. grow. up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-5309647235861715091?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/5309647235861715091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=5309647235861715091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5309647235861715091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5309647235861715091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-am-lazy-and-selfish.html' title='I am lazy and selfish'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-7460979864083697279</id><published>2009-05-12T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T11:35:06.743-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Freakin out for no reason</title><content type='html'>So I know it's stupid. But I am freaking out. I got a couple of my grades back. B+ in physiology (when it should've been an A) and a B- in applied calc. &lt;p&gt;the reason why I say I am stupid is because I am not happy with those grades...... I am not happy!!!!!!&lt;p&gt;I am being a baby though, I know it. Those are good grades. Sure they aren't A's, but they are good. I did well. I always tend to compare myself to others and their 3.75 and 3.8 gpa and the only reason why I am doing that is because I have this idea in my mind that you need an extremely high gpa to get into a med school.&lt;p&gt;Here is the deal, I have two years left, so I have plenty of time to raise my gpa. But I want to go to oxford next semester and they require a 3.4 minimum... A 3.4 for a science major is the equivalent of a 3.8 for a non-science major. They are asking for a lot. And I don't want... I mean I don't know about... &lt;p&gt;OK control is an issue. I have a huge problem with control in my life. Control over my future, control over my past, control over my present... I am a control freak, in a very passive-aggressive way. I just need to Chill!!!! That is what I need to do. Relax. Give it to GOD and stop being so damn arrogant and prideful.&lt;p&gt;Let God's grace be all that matters!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-7460979864083697279?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/7460979864083697279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=7460979864083697279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7460979864083697279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7460979864083697279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/05/freakin-out-for-no-reason.html' title='Freakin out for no reason'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4419484681310794793</id><published>2009-05-05T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T21:00:50.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Long Time No Talk</title><content type='html'>So it has been a while.  And a lot has happened.  I have moved on past a couple issues that seemed daunting to me and am concentrating on new ones. Mainly, surviving the summer. As if it is going to kill me... right. I will be doing research on cystic fibrosis biofilms with Dr. Tallman. It is an honor to be chosen to do research, I know it will be extremely beneficial. Plus I'll be make bank yo!!! 3k for 8 weeks of work. Not bad huh?!? After that I will be visiting some friends on the big island and possibly oahu. I am really looking forward to recording this summer. I recently finished a song purely with midi instrumentation, I think it sounds hokey but hey I'm learning the necessities and that's why I'm doing it. I'll hopefully have a full-length album demoed by the end of the summer, if not all of it, most of it.&lt;p&gt;Last night were the Director's Scenes. I thought they was absolutely fabulous. I was so proud of all the actors (even though I don't know them well haha) and I was thoroughly pleased with Ashley and my performance. &lt;p&gt;I think it is safe to say that I am hooked on acting. Learning the ins and outs of a character is so thrilling, and to rehearse to a point where it simply pours out of you at a performance is so satisfying. I am excited, soo very excited, for the opportunities I have in the future to tell the stories of men and women through acting. I feel like I have found the one thing that has been missing from my life.&lt;p&gt;I think that is all... Oh, today I broke down again. Man, I am such a selfish brat. I had a conversation with my parents and my Dad basically said, "Alex. You are being selfish when God has given you so many gifts. Be grateful." He was really right. I have been given so many gifts. Like friendships, good friendships. A great school with amazing professors (both science and otherwise). The ability to take out loans. Now, theater! Musical abilities. The desire to learn how to act. A loving God. A car. A computer. Health! Two amazing parents and an awesome sister!&lt;p&gt;Yeah he was right. I have a lot to be thankful for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4419484681310794793?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4419484681310794793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4419484681310794793' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4419484681310794793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4419484681310794793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/05/long-time-no-talk.html' title='Long Time No Talk'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-5535497089285676978</id><published>2009-04-19T17:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T17:46:02.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yup</title><content type='html'>So I know that the last couple of posts have been very depressing.  Yesterday, things came to a point where I finally broke and cried for the first time in a very long time.  I still feel lonely at times but I can see a reason for hope.  Thank you to anybody who said a prayer for me in my stupidity.  It is because of you that I can now see the goodness of God, I have moved out of the way and am looking back at him.  So again thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-5535497089285676978?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/5535497089285676978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=5535497089285676978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5535497089285676978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5535497089285676978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/04/yup_19.html' title='yup'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-8822953165731082560</id><published>2009-04-18T19:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T19:17:41.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yup</title><content type='html'>Just so you can get to know me a bit better.&lt;p&gt;I am really sad.  I am really discouraged.  I am really lonely.  I am really stupid.  I am really selfish.  I am really weak.  I am in a state of sadness.  Not a creative sadness, but a dead sadness.  I can't help but only mourn.  God is with me in this.  I can feel him.  &lt;p&gt;I should be able to control myself.  I can't though, I can't be anything but sad when I'm left with myself.  I am so very lonely.  I am stupid for feeling so lonely.  I shouldn't be lonely.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-8822953165731082560?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/8822953165731082560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=8822953165731082560' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8822953165731082560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8822953165731082560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/04/yup.html' title='yup'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-69170403201476825</id><published>2009-04-14T11:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T11:15:24.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dream time</title><content type='html'>I was in my room working on homework, and my mom came in and said Alison wants to talk to me. I thought she was talking about my sister so said, "yeah, sure. come in." But it was Alison Daily. she walked in and explained to me that she bought a big blanket for her birthday on behalf of me and was now seeing if that was ok. I was stoked to see her so I said "yeah sure!" we spent the rest of the day together, then she left and I said bye to her. God you gotta stop these dreams from happening or else I'll never recover.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-69170403201476825?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/69170403201476825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=69170403201476825' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/69170403201476825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/69170403201476825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/04/dream-time.html' title='dream time'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-1455551800995715800</id><published>2009-04-13T02:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T10:21:47.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Control [the song]</title><content type='html'>While on a plane, flying south&lt;br /&gt;I demanded we talk this out&lt;br /&gt;“Please tell the truth just this once.”&lt;br /&gt;“Haven’t I done enough?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quietly you looked at me,&lt;br /&gt;with veiled eyes filled with secrecy&lt;br /&gt;“How could I still be loved&lt;br /&gt;When you won’t open up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without a word you looked away&lt;br /&gt;and we don’t talk to this day&lt;br /&gt;will the pain stop&lt;br /&gt;if my eyes shut&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cuz when the plane spirals down&lt;br /&gt;when the smoke rises and &lt;br /&gt;we land in a field and are consumed by flame&lt;br /&gt;we have no choice, but to feel the pain&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-1455551800995715800?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/1455551800995715800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=1455551800995715800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1455551800995715800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1455551800995715800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/04/control-song.html' title='Control [the song]'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6499618390211635265</id><published>2009-04-12T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T12:22:12.578-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shit.</title><content type='html'>Shit. Lately I've been going through a lot of it. I don't want to react any other way than I have though. I need to feel crappy, I need to remain hopeless for a while, I need to lament. I got f***ed over by a girl that I was holding out for. I was stupid. I should have known it was going to end this way. It always has. I think it always will. I'm the guy that always gets screwed over. I did everything right too. I gave her space, which she asked for. I don't know. It's just I have never experienced a situation where I have lost so much trust for a person.  I started out trusting that it would work out, in a good way, not like this. Lesson learned: the faithful get f***ed and burned, discarded and forgotten. The nice get run over and pushed aside. The genuine unnoticed and under-appreciated. And in the end I will recover and then it will happen all over again. I've reached a new level of pessimism.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6499618390211635265?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6499618390211635265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6499618390211635265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6499618390211635265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6499618390211635265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/04/shit.html' title='Shit.'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-413599603287386406</id><published>2009-04-10T11:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T11:42:19.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Control</title><content type='html'>I didn't want to post this but I think transparency in this time in my life is very necessary&lt;p&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My dad was laid off of work yesterday by a coward and we might lose the house.  I am taking it the hardest out of anybody in our family, though nobody knows it.  Things have been going pretty crappy lately.  By that I mean life has been normal but I have lost my grip on optimism for the moment.  When I let small things get to me my emotions compound and swell and my judgement becomes impaired and I become bitter and angry.  I’m trying to stop it before it gets to that point.  My dad is a true inspiration.  I know it hurts to be laid off for no good reason, especially when the past couple months have not been too easy, but my Dad is taking it in such stride, it’s amazing.  I found an old pokemon card in the stuff I cleaned out from my room the other day.  It was my favorite one, Venasaur, a hologram.  I also found a fair pile of doodles and essays from high school and jr. high that are worth keeping.  God is pretty good at beating you into the ground.  First a chapter 11, now a chapter 7.  He is doing some serious pruning of the family tree.  It’s not my burden to bear though.  God has a plan, the result will be more than we could have ever imagined. But God Damn it, we’ll be losing so many memories. I already feel disconnected from the house.  The period of transition has started.  He knows what He is doing though.  Lord give me strength.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-413599603287386406?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/413599603287386406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=413599603287386406' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/413599603287386406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/413599603287386406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/04/control.html' title='Control'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4807772383040494451</id><published>2009-03-23T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T19:19:34.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>APU</title><content type='html'>To know that I am alone would be better.&lt;p&gt;that isn't a finished idea. I wish me being alone was my reality so that I could accept it and cope with it, but to have people who remind me of friends in my past makes my situation much more disagreeable. I find myself thinking thoughts and then checking my pride by saying, "I know this sounds arrogant, or boastful, or... prideful. But it's the truth. I am alone and it is because of the way God made me." as if to say I can disagree with the omniscience of God in designing me. He made me to be this way and it is for a purpose, albeit one that is unforeseeable, but a purpose that makes me special and different from anyone else at this school to the point of loneliness. Could I be any more different, any more set apart, any more special than I am among "christian" students. Not that I lack tools necessary to befriend entertain or swoon anybody I come across, in fact I am very capable of those tasks, but I am not meant to use my gifts in that way. &lt;p&gt;a cloud of the knowledge of my potential shadows everything I do and seems to block the son. typo intentional. It bogs me down and prevents me from enjoying little things I encounter in my day. Smiles don't mean a thing here. They are whored out, swung around like cheap and meaningless necessities, items that are purchased, just like designer clothes, with the blood of Christ. Currency has never been more valuable than what is used here, yet I do not see the worth in the eyes of those who hold it. I see the bottom of the pool, I see the end of the ruler they measure good works by; and I see myself in them and it makes me sad. &lt;p&gt;If anything my stay here is a good reminder that this is not my home. I am meant for somewhere more suited for my purpose. A clever analogy arranged by the hands of God with my life as the medium to remind me that I am meant for places that are not here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4807772383040494451?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4807772383040494451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4807772383040494451' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4807772383040494451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4807772383040494451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/03/apu.html' title='APU'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-8387329868911213778</id><published>2009-03-18T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T23:22:23.999-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Song</title><content type='html'>It's not finished... but i'm happy with what I have so far&lt;p&gt;"I've settled a lot."&lt;br /&gt;and "I haven't done."&lt;br /&gt;are things i've said&lt;br /&gt;too many times to you&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mistakes I've made."&lt;br /&gt;and "Lies I have told"&lt;br /&gt;have shaped the way&lt;br /&gt;I look at you&lt;p&gt;but you could care less&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-8387329868911213778?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/8387329868911213778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=8387329868911213778' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8387329868911213778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8387329868911213778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/03/new-song.html' title='New Song'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-2560193605818342499</id><published>2009-03-16T19:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T20:24:42.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>Tonight I was complimented. In succession. Apparently I look not only "Good" but "Very Good". I am told I am funny, I am told that I have a warm heart, I am told that I make people feel comfortable and loved, I am told that I challenge people intellectually and spiritually, yet I feel very alone a lot of the times.&lt;p&gt;But then I remind myself that I wouldn't want it any other way. I seek ambiguity, I desire isolation, social situations drain me and unwanted affection is one of the worst imaginable things to me. Yet I do feel unequivocally lonely most of the time.&lt;p&gt;Timing can't be rushed. I know that. I try though, to rush it in my mind. I do this by convincing myself that the timing is right when it is not, even when it is horribly wrong. Some would call this desperation but it's normal for me. I sink and rise through tides of solitary contentment and waves of strongly desired intimacy as if on a piece of driftwood. I allow myself to think I am trapped on the surface when I could easily enough dive down into the beauty that lies beneath my soggy driftwood raft. &lt;p&gt;"It is so deep, though, I know it is beautiful. I can see how it molds and shapes my feet through the refraction of light and the hue of the blue, from the tired normality of flesh to something dark, mysterious and new. If I were to dive into the deep perhaps it would shape my whole body too. But is this something I can even do? I can swim, yes, and I am strong, but I dare not think about what could possibly go wrong."&lt;p&gt;I need to risk more I have protected myself for way to long it is time to venture and seek heartbreak and betrayal and turn them from adversaries into companions, for didn't Shakespeare pen, "It is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all." And I might add that it is with great courage and proportionality of talent that success soon follows with a valiant dive into life, whether weigh-able or not, by man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-2560193605818342499?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/2560193605818342499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=2560193605818342499' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2560193605818342499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2560193605818342499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/03/untitled.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6884495318825894237</id><published>2009-03-11T00:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T00:47:58.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dream + tobias and austin</title><content type='html'>I know this is a little late but whatever. I had a dream last night that I got a violin as gift from someone, and it was amazing. The End&lt;p&gt;On another totally different subject two of my best buds austin lewton and tobias were at apu today. They are men that I have a special kinship with. They are passionate dreamers, they are ambitious lovers, they live life in a way that makes me want to live life, they are completely and utterly the most charismatic people, they make me realize that I am not crazy for wanting more than what the world has to offer for my life, they make me realize that other people are weird and not me and that other people are stuck up and coincidentally stuck in complacency and mundane-ness and if I want more than what they have then that is ok and I will get that. They are so gifted and so care-free and so everything a christian should be, they are what I talk about when I mention apocalypse they see the world through God's eyes with joy and freedom and they voice these things and I don't have to force it out of them like i do with people around here. God it feels so good to know that I am not the one who is crazy. It is so funny to realize that I can be at christian school with so many people who don't act like christians, who are so stuck in their own lives that they fail to look past their front step to see what God's creation can offer them. I feel like I am crazy sometimes because of how boring and how vain and how conceited and how petty and how selfish [not that I'm not] and how complacent a lot of the people around me are, because I am so everything that they are not. &lt;p&gt; i feel like after I graduate I should move down to be around them. I know that I will be more inspired and fulfilled and released and will be encouraged to follow my dreams and let God do amazing things with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6884495318825894237?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6884495318825894237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6884495318825894237' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6884495318825894237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6884495318825894237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/03/dream-tobias-and-austin.html' title='dream + tobias and austin'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-8676354329298421378</id><published>2009-03-03T22:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T22:22:25.284-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One Year [new song]</title><content type='html'>I had the best intentions throughout my bitterness&lt;br /&gt;so how could I say that I am not content&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took the better part of three long years &lt;br /&gt;to pull me out of dissonance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well it proved&lt;br /&gt;that you&lt;br /&gt;are always near&lt;br /&gt;and there’s&lt;br /&gt;no need to fear&lt;br /&gt;it’s when I &lt;br /&gt;attempt to try&lt;br /&gt;it on my own&lt;br /&gt;that has always shown&lt;br /&gt;I need you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told my folks how I would hold my head up high&lt;br /&gt;and keep it brave and clear and always by your side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why would those memories appeal to me &lt;br /&gt;how could I recollect those tears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well they’ve dried &lt;br /&gt;I’ve recognized &lt;br /&gt;But I don’t want to to say good-bye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;could i please keep these&lt;br /&gt;for I don’t really have the heart&lt;br /&gt;to see where we’ll be&lt;br /&gt;in one year from the start&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-8676354329298421378?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/8676354329298421378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=8676354329298421378' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8676354329298421378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8676354329298421378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-year.html' title='One Year [new song]'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-1498433978216456605</id><published>2009-03-03T12:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T12:45:31.927-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Dream</title><content type='html'>Basically there was a boat that was sinking, very slowly and nobody could decide on what to do, so I decided to drive it to land. theres more but i don't remember it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-1498433978216456605?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/1498433978216456605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=1498433978216456605' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1498433978216456605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1498433978216456605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/03/another-dream.html' title='Another Dream'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6284345362056894362</id><published>2009-03-02T06:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T06:46:14.132-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream</title><content type='html'>Got a chunk of muscle cut out of my cheek, some soldier died by accidentally eating licorice with acid in it I watched his body decay someone poisoned him, I was up at hume, I was performing at a huge outdoor venue or was waiting to, I saw Bree. That is all I remember. Weird.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6284345362056894362?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6284345362056894362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6284345362056894362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6284345362056894362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6284345362056894362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/03/dream.html' title='Dream'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-8370462350464294184</id><published>2009-02-28T15:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T16:11:31.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'>music</title><content type='html'>epiphany-music is a means to meet an end&lt;p&gt;Most music while separated by genre is all very similar, at least to me. This makes me sick of music from time to time. But the amazing things you can convey with music, the power that is possesses to inspire and move, brings me back around every time.&lt;p&gt;how original.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-8370462350464294184?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/8370462350464294184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=8370462350464294184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8370462350464294184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8370462350464294184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/music.html' title='music'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-141485616488062280</id><published>2009-02-26T22:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T22:46:12.002-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rant... please read.</title><content type='html'>Probably the worst and best thing that has ever happened to me is College. I know that I will look back and say, "I want to go back. If only I had taken my time to enjoy everything." I am a rash man. A very thoughtless and impulse driven man. I have discovered creation... Or rather creation has discovered me. I have always created. In small, simple ways and never in consistent or predictable patterns. But now I am overwhelmed with creation. I create and want to create all the time. Apocalypse has taken over me. I don't mean the end of _______ - the world or my life or anything like that, but I mean apocalypse in a way that pervades the reality that we [humans] have painted for ourselves. Life as we know it is not the way it is meant. It is not the way we were meant to live, to experience, to love, to breath, or die in. There is more out there. Every human being contains in them the ability to create and through that we are connected with the God who creates. I truly and deeply feel for those who either are not gifted [if that is at all possible] or who were subjected to a life where creation is not possible due to burdens or uncontrollable life scenario's but creation is the gateway to what life is truly like. To create, to make something new, unique [like each one of us] instead of repeating or copying or learning we are birthing a new thing. To live life only to create - "how unproductive, how unplanned, how mismanaged and undisciplined. How escapist and how irresponsible." How sad... We are twisting the world into a cycle of traditions and practices and forgot the freedom we have to use our hands minds and hearts to sculpt and breath life into something that did not already exist instead of beat into the ground the creations of other people; men and women before us or with us. How empty are we who take advantage of the beauty of creation and use it for our own mechanical desires.&lt;p&gt;How blessed am I to know people that create and inspire me to create. I am very very very blessed. A thousand times blessed. I will create. I will create and I will create to wipe away the fears and the aprehension that plagues me. I will do for my God and I will do it for who God made me to be because I am capable and I am impassioned and I am more than willing to create and create. Why oh why, and how oh how, are questions I have been trained to ask, and so I ask them. But I know I am not meant to think that way I meant to praise and give glory. I am meant to never worry or wonder. I am meant to know I am not meant to know all the time. I love all of you who create alongside with me. Desiree, Angela, Mitch, Dan, John, Stephen. We are brothers and sisters. Consider me converted from the ways of the world and the production-minded society of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-141485616488062280?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/141485616488062280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=141485616488062280' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/141485616488062280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/141485616488062280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/probably-worst-and-best-thing-that-has.html' title='Rant... please read.'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-8863818672400134413</id><published>2009-02-23T21:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T21:12:14.577-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Building A Fire</title><content type='html'>This is the finished version of the song below&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Distance has never affected me this way&lt;br /&gt;I can’t remember the last time my heart reached this weight&lt;br /&gt;Will you, Will you feel it too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s cuz I always will give you all of me&lt;br /&gt;That I am willing to start at the beginning&lt;br /&gt;Will you, Will you feel it too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In spite of the signs that this is in vain&lt;br /&gt;I could not do less I’d say it is worth the pain&lt;br /&gt;I’m starting a fire inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I won’t be staying home &lt;br /&gt;putting on final touches&lt;br /&gt;to the god forsaken brush-fire &lt;br /&gt;I’ve cultivated&lt;br /&gt;that fire has eaten up all my energy&lt;br /&gt;(no I won’t be holding onto the misery)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-8863818672400134413?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/8863818672400134413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=8863818672400134413' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8863818672400134413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8863818672400134413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/building-fire.html' title='Building A Fire'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6217885405577155563</id><published>2009-02-22T00:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T00:42:12.985-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Song</title><content type='html'>Here is part of a new song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s cuz I always will give you all of me&lt;br /&gt;That I am willing to start at the beginning&lt;br /&gt;In spite of the signs that this is in vain&lt;br /&gt;I could not do less I’d say it is worth the pain&lt;br /&gt;I’m starting a fire inside &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I won’t be staying home &lt;br /&gt;putting on final touches&lt;br /&gt;to the god forsaken brush-fire &lt;br /&gt;i’ve cultivated&lt;br /&gt;that fire has eaten up all my energy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other side of day-light&lt;br /&gt;is coming over me&lt;br /&gt;I’ve stopped feeling weightless&lt;br /&gt;and am getting used sleep&lt;br /&gt;no I won’t be holding onto my misery&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6217885405577155563?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6217885405577155563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6217885405577155563' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6217885405577155563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6217885405577155563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/new-song.html' title='New Song'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-3484184373415249944</id><published>2009-02-19T16:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T17:15:13.997-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I need to slow down</title><content type='html'>It's times like these that I need to slow down. It's times like these that I am irresponsible with my emotional well-being. I have let myself become too tired and too overwhelmed with life I to set some time aside and make sure that I am rested and re-centered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-3484184373415249944?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/3484184373415249944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=3484184373415249944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/3484184373415249944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/3484184373415249944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-need-to-slow-down.html' title='I need to slow down'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-924672016404011240</id><published>2009-02-18T10:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T10:25:14.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Feb 18 1987</title><content type='html'>So on my birthday I have two labs, both four hours, and a huge paper to finish. Happy birthday, to me. But seriously it is not that big of a deal. A birthday is a birthday and you can celebrate it anywhere in anyway just as long as it is a "day"!! so in that sense I am really excited! But to be completely honest I kind of wished I followed through on. I was planning on doing my b-day differently (and the only reason why I am writing this is because I know that only three people read this, occasionally). I wanted to rearrange the way I celebrated my b-day.&lt;p&gt;I wanted to buy gifts for the important people in my life and thus switch the focus of my birthday from me to them. Because while today was the day I was born, I want my birthday to represent a celebration of the day I got do meet such amazing people!!! Birthdays in america are (ulteriorly) very self-centered celebrations. This is the DAY I was born!!!!! GIVE ME STUFF!!!!! I may be over-exaggerating but there is some truth to it. I think that is backwards.&lt;p&gt;It should be this is the day I was born and I have already been show blessed with your presence in my life that I want to bless you!!!!! I want to do this for the rest of my life. I am switching things around to the way they should be. Instead of a celebration of self, it should be a celebration of others.&lt;p&gt;The greatest gift my parents have given me is life!!! among many other, truly very valuable things! The last thing I deserve is a gift from them! I should show my appreciation for them! and that is just an example of how grateful I am for so many people in my life.&lt;p&gt;But alas I did not follow through and I feel guilty... I don't think I should, but I do nonetheless. This is motivation for me to make sure I do it next year... s;fjklasdf&lt;p&gt;So to you who read this... don't tell anybody I am going to do it. Its not meant to be something that people should know about, but I figured I needed to air it out. Happy birthday me because I am so so so very blessed to have such very good friends (that would mean you).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-924672016404011240?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/924672016404011240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=924672016404011240' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/924672016404011240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/924672016404011240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/feb-18-1987.html' title='Feb 18 1987'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-3797674062879030139</id><published>2009-02-14T20:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T21:27:17.511-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>For the past two weeks I have had a dream every night. 9 days ago I had a dream that I got a mac book.&lt;p&gt;Two days after the dream my parents came to visit and wanted to know what I wanted for my birthday. I told them that if I got a mac book I could do a lot of recording but I can't afford one. They said that they couldn't afford one either. Today I drove up to San Jose for the weekend and tonight my family and I went out for sushi. At the sushi place my Dad told me that God had had blessed him with an unexpected gift and that they were going to get me a mac book.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God is faithful to provide.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-3797674062879030139?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/3797674062879030139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=3797674062879030139' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/3797674062879030139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/3797674062879030139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-7413611986281396862</id><published>2009-02-13T15:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T15:16:31.879-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Short Story idea</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Here's an idea I have for a short story... I recently told a friend it on facebook so this is the chain that lead to the description of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;its about a boy who's single mother protects him from the sea and he does not know why&lt;br /&gt;i still have to develop what his everyday life is like&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:04pmAlex&lt;br /&gt;his next door neighbor is an old sea man who has a connection with the sea too but was driven from it because of the loss of his wife&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:05pmAngella&lt;br /&gt;ooh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:06pmAlex&lt;br /&gt;there is something magical that connects the two and after the initial set up (everyday life and what not) the boy has to rely on the experiences of the old man in order to conquer what the sea represents in his life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so... thats very vague&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:06pmAngella&lt;br /&gt;i like it&lt;br /&gt;lots of metaphor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:06pmAlex&lt;br /&gt;yeah&lt;br /&gt;im going to tie in some mythology&lt;br /&gt;im thinking the boy is a demigogue and his mother is afraid of losing him&lt;br /&gt;and the old man has a tie with the same mythology&lt;br /&gt;the sea is just such a magical mystical place so i think it could make for a very inspiring story&lt;br /&gt;lots of loss, lots of heart break&lt;br /&gt;and only enough redemption in the end to make it seem like hope is possible&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-7413611986281396862?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/7413611986281396862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=7413611986281396862' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7413611986281396862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7413611986281396862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/short-story-idea.html' title='Short Story idea'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-8717641080592511832</id><published>2009-02-12T16:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T18:04:54.523-08:00</updated><title type='text'>For two weeks</title><content type='html'>I had yet another dream last night. This time it was horribly emotional.&lt;p&gt;If there is anything that would strike me as interesting about myself, it would be my obsession with Audrey Hepburn. It is hard to explain, as most emotional things are, but I have this deep connection with her and I go through phases about this time every year where all I can think about is her. The whole situation is very inspirational. Audrey Hepburn is my muse and for some reason my dreams are plagued by her during these late winter months. I almost hate the way my heart is trapped by her, I am most assuredly embarrassed by it, but for whatever reason Audrey Hepburn is a poltergeist in my subconsciousness in a very spiritual way.&lt;p&gt;The dream itself was very simple, short and nondescript. I was in the lower story of some house, to which I could relate to but not completely identify. There was quite a lot of history between Audrey and I in the dream, for a lot of emotional energy came with the situation that was not already in existence in reality. It was clear we had history, a past; whether fruitful or futile, romantic or platonic it was not clear, but there was tension. She had texted me and I was shocked to see her speak to me. It was not a discussion nor was it a friendly request on her part. I knew not the subject matter nor was I entirely sure if it was important to know what it was about, but the significance of her texting me was in her contacting me. Her mode of existence was unclear, whether dead or alive, young or old all I knew was that I was talking to her. It only became clear to me after I had woken up that I would have been content talking to her at any point in her life if only to see her in person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-8717641080592511832?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/8717641080592511832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=8717641080592511832' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8717641080592511832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8717641080592511832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/today.html' title='For two weeks'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-33860702875624796</id><published>2009-02-08T23:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T00:07:40.743-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I should go to bed.</title><content type='html'>I had a dream two nights ago that isn't important enough to share on this. Who am I to say that one dream is more important than another though. Either way I don't feel like typing it up. &lt;p&gt;One of my dreams came true, we lost to SDSU. I don't want to get too into it, but we should have won, in every way. That's that.&lt;p&gt;I wonder if any of my other dreams will come true. Well I sure do wish that I would get a mac, then I could finally start recording on my own. God, would that be a amazing.&lt;p&gt;I have a friend who told me it might be a good idea to slow down and stop thinking too much. I think that is excellent advice, but I do not know how to slow down my thought process. Thinking is what I do, as a human, especially as an expressive human. How does one suppress thought and just exist. My heart does need some peace and quiet. I think, for my minds sake, that I need to just be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-33860702875624796?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/33860702875624796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=33860702875624796' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/33860702875624796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/33860702875624796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-should-go-to-bed.html' title='I should go to bed.'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-7553547499830254386</id><published>2009-02-06T13:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T13:57:24.115-08:00</updated><title type='text'>mmmm</title><content type='html'>I have had a dream every night for the past two weeks. &lt;p&gt;Last night, I had a dream that we lost to SDSU on saturday. The night before, I had a dream that I got a mac and finally started recording. &lt;p&gt;I shared a story with one of my classes yesterday and as a result I have never felt more conflicted about my interests/callings in my entire life. I feel over-emotional, out-of-control, too energized and misdirected. I know God has given me gifts for a reason. But I don't know how to use them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-7553547499830254386?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/7553547499830254386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=7553547499830254386' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7553547499830254386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7553547499830254386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/02/mmmm.html' title='mmmm'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4063439027202499474</id><published>2009-01-30T10:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T10:22:59.492-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream</title><content type='html'>I was with my sister (imagine a Bonny and Clyde situation). We were holed up in a broken down hotel. I was in the room alone and my sister came back and told me, "Some big-time music guys heard your music over somewhere and said that they wanted to give you some air-time (on t.v.)." Of course, I was over-excited to hear this...&lt;p&gt;The next thing I remember was kind of fast forwarding through some idyllic scenery (large-decked restaurants with ivy covered terraces, surrounded by winding alley-ways) where I was trying to find shows to play. I then came to a stop in a church during Sunday morning service and I was sitting in a pew (I didn't recognize the church). Then I was dragged to the front (by someone), given a guitar (in the middle of the service), and then people and a giant T.V. camera (a moving unit, the kind where the camera man sits behind it on a built-in seat) moved up to the front; all while the congregation was staring in absolute horror at what their Sunday service had turned into... and I'm assuming all this was because I was a huge super-star and the only place they could find me was at church... ?? or something like that &lt;p&gt; and that is about all I remember...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4063439027202499474?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4063439027202499474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4063439027202499474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4063439027202499474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4063439027202499474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/dream.html' title='Dream'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-2949997665914834063</id><published>2009-01-28T20:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T21:47:11.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>hmm mmm</title><content type='html'>Last night, at the moment where I entered actual sleep, I had a split second dream/nightmare/whatever. Something fluttered from my body (that is the point where I woke up) and flew to the ceiling and I was afraid that it would fall on me, so I stood on my bed (half awake) and started swatting at the air around that area on the ceiling. I kept at it, and then thought that I couldn't hit it because it was dark. I then got my phone and started to shine it on the ceiling to better see it. Right after I started, my roomate woke up and asked me, "Alex, are you alright?" Apparently I looked frantic enough or the act I was caught in looked bizarre enough for his inquiring, but as soon as I explained to him what I was doing I realized how ridiculous it sounded. So I got off of my bed, put my phone away, and I got back under the covers. &lt;p&gt;it's only now that I realized what that thing could have been... I didn't imagine it, it really happened. I am convinced. But I am not haunted by it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-2949997665914834063?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/2949997665914834063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=2949997665914834063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2949997665914834063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2949997665914834063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/hmm-mmm.html' title='hmm mmm'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-5386448289800970633</id><published>2009-01-25T22:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T22:43:58.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts</title><content type='html'>I am too connected. I need to remove dissonance from my life. I think I might fast from my blog for a little while. I miss pen and paper anyways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-5386448289800970633?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/5386448289800970633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=5386448289800970633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5386448289800970633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5386448289800970633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/thoughts.html' title='Thoughts'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-2412321658867018015</id><published>2009-01-25T18:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T18:58:58.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm freakin out right now.</title><content type='html'>This guys name is Alex Woodrow. He is a musician, He is bald, He wears glasses... ITS MY TWIN!!!!! I am Fuh-Reaking out... here is his facebook page. please check it out.&lt;p&gt; http://www.facebook.com/s.php?q=alex+woodrow&amp;init=q&amp;sid=8b57e1d10cc8e8316b45b40b9a41be89#/pages/Alex-Woodrow/10804914642?sid=8b57e1d10cc8e8316b45b40b9a41be89&amp;ref=s&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-2412321658867018015?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/2412321658867018015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=2412321658867018015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2412321658867018015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2412321658867018015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-freakin-out-right-now.html' title='I&apos;m freakin out right now.'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4971666629510144703</id><published>2009-01-24T17:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T17:27:53.534-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Night</title><content type='html'>Last night I was challenged to rethink the tireless analysis that I constantly am doing in regards to my life. But even in that I am analyzing.&lt;p&gt; My career choice... it does not fit, but I tell myself that medicine is the best option out there for someone like me. Ultimately I do not know what I am supposed to do. I mean I have been given gifts: intelligence, a big heart, wisdom (in some ways), passion, self-control (again, only in some ways), but there is no niche or manufactured role that I can fit into. I am going to be a P.A.. I am going to whore myself repeatedly to my patients so that they know that I am more than a medical professional, but a friend, someone who can and will comfort them in times of need. But I have a distinct need for deep and meaningful relationships and, well, medicine, in all of its facilities, is more like a burlesque house than a commune. Will I survive? Or will my soul slowly deteriorate, lending itself to a new suitor every requisition presented only to be stripped of any progress with each release form finished. I do not know. I seem to be limited by what man has created "work" to be. And it sure seems to me that I am destined to never reach my full potential. Praise God for His wisdom! Praise God for the providence of His mighty right hand! For all my wisdom can show me is how limited my future may be and all my right hand can do is finish the sentence needed to conclude this thought. Other than that I am through. It's God's turn&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4971666629510144703?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4971666629510144703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4971666629510144703' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4971666629510144703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4971666629510144703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/last-night.html' title='Last Night'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-7214073046832876598</id><published>2009-01-23T14:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T14:12:41.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New song</title><content type='html'>i don't like it just yet, i haven't put enough work into it yet. i don' want to misrepresent my ability to create... sd;fljk so i'm still working on it.&lt;p&gt;I had the best intentions throughout my bitterness so how could I say that I'm not content&lt;p&gt;It took the better part of three long years to pull me out of dissonance&lt;p&gt;but you have proved that you are always near and there's no need to fear. It's when I try it on my own that's always shown I need you.&lt;p&gt;I haphazardly declined to see the misery that hung over my head...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-7214073046832876598?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/7214073046832876598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=7214073046832876598' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7214073046832876598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7214073046832876598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-song.html' title='New song'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-2444486836470765007</id><published>2009-01-22T22:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T22:28:45.672-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I just don't get it</title><content type='html'>I've realized that there is no point in being ambiguous in my blog posting. It is not always true to myself if I consistently hide how I feel or what I think, but I do admit that sometimes I am in need of ambiguity and so write to suit that need. &lt;p&gt;I believe it right to say it plainly that I do not understand everything that I believe. It has been three years since I accepted Jesus as the Ruler as my life and committed all that I may do to His will, but there are times when I am at a loss to what I even believe. I know that if one were to read this it would appear that I made a poor and possibly misinformed decision regarding my loyalty to the Prince of Peace, but I assure you that information has nothing to do with such a decision. Information while it has a place, does not lay hold to all of the necessities of faith. As any child may know. A child when young has complete faith in their parents. Do they know this for sure? Have they had ample experience with their parents to know that they deserve trust? No, they don't. A 4 year old has neither the capacity nor the experience to prove to themselves that their Mother and Father are trustworthy. They just do. They simply trust them. I trust God. I do. I just am at a loss to how I lose track of how the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross is sufficient. Or how the love he exercised through his being on earth is so beautiful. I forget and it seems to me that I shouldn't... But I am human... Here I come to the gravity like inevitability of my falling short of anything close to what is necessary for me to deserve anything from God. I deserve nothing more than... I come short of an answer. In fact I deserve nothing. Nothing is what I am and yet he loves me... That is amazing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-2444486836470765007?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/2444486836470765007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=2444486836470765007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2444486836470765007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2444486836470765007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-just-dont-get-it.html' title='I just don&apos;t get it'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6786579113996069990</id><published>2009-01-16T12:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T12:43:56.781-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandparents</title><content type='html'>I just got a card from my grandpa. It carried with it the meditations of his mind on scripture. My grandpa is a man of few words. Fewer, than one might think, are his words found in person than on paper. He is wise in this point. He doesn't speak unless it is worthwhile and to him the only things worthwhile in this world are the words of God. How privileged am I to hear the meditations from a man's most prized possession. How stupid would I have to be to ignore the rarity of his thoughts. My Grandpa's only request after the detailing of his meditations was this, Be Obedient. "Obedience is the only way to experience God's best for your life". Obedience in will, in heart, in mind, in action. While these are not original words, I couldn't imagine a harder concept to flesh out. Obedience is what God requires of me and Obedience is what my Grandpa demonstrates. How blessed am I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6786579113996069990?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6786579113996069990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6786579113996069990' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6786579113996069990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6786579113996069990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/grandparents.html' title='Grandparents'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-92955310265123759</id><published>2009-01-15T21:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T21:50:48.772-08:00</updated><title type='text'>just plain ole dog tired</title><content type='html'>fourth day of school and I am sick, tired, and beat up. My spirits are not beat yet though. For the first time i had a class that was a true pleasure and not a chore. But before that I had the worst class I have ever had, with probably the worst professor (for me) yet. No specifics necessary. I discovered that I have a true need to express myself by delving into nothing to pull out something, in order to connect with who I am and who my God is. I also discovered that I still need to find the courage to face classes that are impossible and emotionally frustrating. I can find that courage in God... I need to remind myself that my answers are found in Him. My answers are found in Him... My answers are found in Him... Just &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;be &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Alex. Just be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-92955310265123759?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/92955310265123759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=92955310265123759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/92955310265123759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/92955310265123759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/just-plain-ole-dog-tired.html' title='just plain ole dog tired'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-7986646592019535578</id><published>2009-01-14T17:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T17:16:06.836-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robbie Ernst'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex Woodrow'/><title type='text'>Show Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/?action=view&amp;current=454117541_img_1874.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/454117541_img_1874.jpg" border="0" alt="Lakes Show"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/?action=view&amp;current=454118431_img_1883.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/454118431_img_1883.jpg" border="0" alt="Lakes Show"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/?action=view&amp;current=454142578_img_2088.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/454142578_img_2088.jpg" border="0" alt="Lakes Show"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/?action=view&amp;current=454142624_img_2091.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/454142624_img_2091.jpg" border="0" alt="Lakes Show"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/?action=view&amp;current=454143640_img_2109.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/454143640_img_2109.jpg" border="0" alt="Lakes Show"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/?action=view&amp;current=454144176_img_2114.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/454144176_img_2114.jpg" border="0" alt="Lakes Show"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/?action=view&amp;current=454144701_img_2116.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i727.photobucket.com/albums/ww273/amwoodrow/454144701_img_2116.jpg" border="0" alt="Lakes Show"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-7986646592019535578?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/7986646592019535578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=7986646592019535578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7986646592019535578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7986646592019535578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/show-pictures.html' title='Show Pictures'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-5259205212633995844</id><published>2009-01-06T17:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T17:27:23.921-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...Title...</title><content type='html'>I am determined to beat this. I can feel how close I am to attaining a creative state... I just need a little nudge...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-5259205212633995844?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/5259205212633995844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=5259205212633995844' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5259205212633995844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5259205212633995844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/title_06.html' title='...Title...'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-7899630048691247801</id><published>2009-01-06T02:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T02:45:27.553-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sterile like a T-shaped uterus</title><content type='html'>I feel as impotent as a eunuch, and as sterile as a hermaphrodite.&lt;br /&gt;It's been almost 1 year since I've written new music and I'm starting to wonder if i have focused on this world to that point that I've left that one behind... What does it take to write. It doesn't seem possible right now. I'm just not convinced that all the shit that is out right now can make me content. It is all crap. The best attempt at music, only coming off sounding sup-par unoriginal and over-influenced by popular culture whether by acceptance or rejection. Great, I can see why I am having trouble writing, my expectations are too high. But how do you get rid of expectations.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-7899630048691247801?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/7899630048691247801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=7899630048691247801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7899630048691247801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7899630048691247801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/sterile-like-t-shaped-uterus.html' title='Sterile like a T-shaped uterus'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-2317993418461017536</id><published>2009-01-04T23:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T00:15:02.952-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...Title...</title><content type='html'>There are times, after slipping into an ideal dream-like alternate reality, i have to remind myself that life isn't as perfect as I'd like it to be.  Life doesn't take you by surprise, love doesn't sweep you off your feet, and things don't go always as planned. But I sure as hell wish they did.&lt;p&gt;It always seems like the pessimist inside of me always gets the upper hand, It always seems like the selfish child inside of me always gets the upper hand, it seems like my shortcomings seem to get the upper hand, and it sure seems like things may never change.&lt;p&gt;Hope (verb)- The discipline of believing in those things that are "not yet".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-2317993418461017536?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/2317993418461017536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=2317993418461017536' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2317993418461017536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2317993418461017536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/title.html' title='...Title...'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-7024521102205410327</id><published>2009-01-03T12:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T13:18:01.863-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Closing of the American Mind by Allan Bloom'/><title type='text'>Music and Literature - how it all fits in</title><content type='html'>I'm at odds with myself about music. Is everything I know when it comes to music only a result of capitalistic/consumeristic influence?  Have I been led astray when emotions take the priority in music instead of the brilliance, ingenuity and hard work?  It has been ruminating in my mind that the music that I listen to and invest in today is the watered down perverted version of what music was at first.  Music is meant to move the soul.  All would agree to that.  I assert that it is not intended to move the soul closer to oneself though but closer to something inaccessible and beyond what a human can reach.  Music draws people together, it draws their souls together.  Music unifies minds and desire and music draws humankind closer to the divine.  All that I have known music to be is a self-serving entity in American culture.  Music today surrounds the topics of sex, anger, love, and any range of emotions that in themselves are amazing gifts but they are all self-centered.  Abused human emotion and instinct to better the wallet of suppliers.  Of all this I am not entirely sure, but my desire for purity in this musical sense is so great that I am stripping down the paradigm of music for my generation, starting with myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is not a vendetta against American culture in itself, but it is against what American culture has done to me.  Influenced by popular music, no doubt my ideals are perverted and true music is something that I have to search for, to define.  So to cut all popular inputs to my mind, I think, will bring clarity to my opinion.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this I recall Radiohead's anti-popular, pure presentation.  Yet even they play only for themselves.  True music must combine self, creator and creation.  That is, purpose and subject must encompass all and praise all; God for his glory and power (this above all), man for the creative entity (s)he was made to be, and creation for the beauty and complexity it exhibits.  Truth is what music must praise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-7024521102205410327?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/7024521102205410327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=7024521102205410327' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7024521102205410327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7024521102205410327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2009/01/music-and-literature-how-it-all-fits-in.html' title='Music and Literature - how it all fits in'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4153360319725558973</id><published>2008-12-24T16:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T16:51:47.534-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter Break Cont...</title><content type='html'>Green and gray are two colors that define Oregon.  The intoxicating power of Oregon affects me even before I reach it.  First I lose my voice... not in a physical sense, but metaphorically speaking, where before I would have felt free to share my thoughts to anyone, my future thoughts would have been content to stay indoors.  Soon after my eyes open wide, awakening fully, spurned by the dull yet vivid wet green, to take in the beauty around me.  Next as if from a hidden well, my heart begins to fill until its contents spill.  This spillage is invaluable to waste nothing the pages of a blank notebook hold the contents until they can be returned.  On several occasions in my youth, when i was till too naive to know the impact of my emotions I fell into deep depressions from where i could only be stirred by the warm dry days of CA...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4153360319725558973?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4153360319725558973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4153360319725558973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4153360319725558973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4153360319725558973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/12/cont.html' title='Winter Break Cont...'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-1720629534614245079</id><published>2008-12-15T19:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T14:46:33.959-08:00</updated><title type='text'>winter break</title><content type='html'>Three months have never gone by faster and i now find myself in a season that represents some very dark memories in my past. By dark i don't mean that i have been subjected to horrible circumstances or anything of that nature, i simply imply that my emotions are a lot like the weather during this time of year. Clouds always seem to accompany everything i do from December to February. For most of the break i'll be in oregon, which doesn't hold the greatest memories either, but i intend to change that. Over the past couple of years i've learned a lot about myself and how I work. If i leave my mind to fate and allow my emotions to rule, turmoil follows. For most of my life i lived subjected to this tendency and as a result my mood swung drastically throughout the seasons... I am naturally a really joyful person. I take pleasure in people around me, both those i know and those i don't know. i appreciate small things in life as well as the big and I am thankful for everything that comes my way. But I am also very contemplative, which in itself can only lend good to any given situation, but i can take extreme turns into introversion and contemplation where i have to dig myself out. Overcast skies and green landscapes are two of the things that capture my eyes and draw me into a deep state of thought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to be continued...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-1720629534614245079?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/1720629534614245079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=1720629534614245079' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1720629534614245079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1720629534614245079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/12/winter-break.html' title='winter break'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-2639776505268900636</id><published>2008-12-14T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T14:47:42.404-08:00</updated><title type='text'>shifting some bits</title><content type='html'>this artist out of New York, NY by the name of Bit Shifter has been rocking my socks off with a pair of game boys, some loop gear and a beat maker. Muy Talentado if do say so myself. check it out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="400" height="225"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1255509&amp;amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;amp;show_title=1&amp;amp;show_byline=1&amp;amp;show_portrait=0&amp;amp;color=&amp;amp;fullscreen=1" /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1255509&amp;amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;amp;show_title=1&amp;amp;show_byline=1&amp;amp;show_portrait=0&amp;amp;color=&amp;amp;fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/1255509"&gt;Bit Shifter // Blip Festival 2007: The Videos&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/twoplayer"&gt;2 Player Productions&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-2639776505268900636?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/2639776505268900636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=2639776505268900636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2639776505268900636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/2639776505268900636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/12/shifting-some-bits.html' title='shifting some bits'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-1396365556568562890</id><published>2008-06-24T21:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T22:01:15.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>half a glass of water (unfinished)</title><content type='html'>i went to a lake today &lt;br /&gt;its fish sang melancholy tunes &lt;br /&gt;yesterday i went to my sink&lt;br /&gt;the dishes sang gritty blues&lt;br /&gt;earlier days i would've cried, &lt;br /&gt;"Its empty, we are all gonna lose!!!"&lt;br /&gt;but today i got some particularly bad news&lt;br /&gt;and i didn't complain at all&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-1396365556568562890?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/1396365556568562890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=1396365556568562890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1396365556568562890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1396365556568562890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/half-glass-of-water-unfinished.html' title='half a glass of water (unfinished)'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4035749306265430495</id><published>2008-06-24T00:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T01:03:00.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>untitled</title><content type='html'>she puts on &lt;br /&gt;blush too much&lt;br /&gt;red too rough&lt;br /&gt;and a pout enough&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4035749306265430495?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4035749306265430495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4035749306265430495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4035749306265430495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4035749306265430495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/little-girl.html' title='untitled'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-8524446084177092117</id><published>2008-06-24T00:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T11:01:13.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'>green fields</title><content type='html'>I look out at water blue, &lt;br /&gt;bordered by flowers in bloom and grass green &lt;br /&gt;yet not more than her eyes. &lt;br /&gt;Oh I wish I could sit there with you, &lt;br /&gt;dream of future plans, &lt;br /&gt;of stupid aspirations &lt;br /&gt;and revel in the moment; drink it in like water. &lt;br /&gt;Hold your sun freckled hand, &lt;br /&gt;play with your sun-bleached hair, &lt;br /&gt;embrace the moment like the grandpa I never had. &lt;br /&gt;If only life stayed vibrant &lt;br /&gt;like photographs. &lt;br /&gt;I'd finally appreciate every moment, &lt;br /&gt;no matter how stupid or simple. &lt;br /&gt;We would walk down quiet unpaved roads, &lt;br /&gt;look at the trees--talk about bees, &lt;br /&gt;or just how it's amazing that the earth moves all by itself. &lt;br /&gt;There will come a day, &lt;br /&gt;maybe soon, &lt;br /&gt;where I can live life like I imagine I'd do with you. &lt;br /&gt;Where the Lord is my portion &lt;br /&gt;and I wait patiently like He does; where without you &lt;br /&gt;I could still breath in the sweet air, &lt;br /&gt;revel in the moment, &lt;br /&gt;and paint pictures of the present in my head instead of the future. &lt;br /&gt;There will come a day &lt;br /&gt;when I will be patient and man enough to be good to someone like you. &lt;br /&gt;I would like that very much, &lt;br /&gt;even if it is not you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-8524446084177092117?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/8524446084177092117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=8524446084177092117' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8524446084177092117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/8524446084177092117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/green-fields.html' title='green fields'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-3336084501170416592</id><published>2008-06-22T19:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T00:56:24.382-07:00</updated><title type='text'>not finished</title><content type='html'>i stared intently through the glass, into the world beyond. i saw yellows and blues and whites unlike anything my tired eyes had seen before. she gave me life, she gave me a race worth running for in my chest. i ran for her, i ran... i ran over and over again, but the finish line ran along with me. i got tired of running. i ran and if i gained some, i lost most; by the looks of it, i lost; so i gave up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now i spend my days looking through glass... like windows in a tall office building. i stroll by several buildings every day, spending no more than a moment at each window... the colors grow duller and flatter with each passing window. until i saw it. a flowery yellow sun dress so gay and vibrant, it caught my eye like a golden hook. speckled with shining lights that looked like miniature suns; it shone with equal brilliance yet with fortitude enough to not harm the hem they laid on. delicate and powerful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i stared at it for years, nearly a millenia, not tiring in the slightest. it inspired me like a child laughing with it's father or an old couple walking--only supported by the arm of their mate, aged yet infallible. I appealed to it's mercies if only to learn the pattern of it's weave. i soon found with blunt sincerity and honesty, that sun-dresses no matter how beautiful, cannot talk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-3336084501170416592?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/3336084501170416592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=3336084501170416592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/3336084501170416592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/3336084501170416592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/not-finished.html' title='not finished'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6068208581492476622</id><published>2008-06-21T16:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T17:33:41.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my monster</title><content type='html'>There was this monster I met not long ago&lt;br /&gt;He was big, hairy and loud &lt;br /&gt;and surprisingly not very scary&lt;br /&gt;But for some reason &lt;br /&gt;every time he showed himself&lt;br /&gt;people ran away screaming&lt;br /&gt;yet he hadn't opened his mouth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now if you were him&lt;br /&gt;or if you were me&lt;br /&gt;you would have something to say&lt;br /&gt;because its quite unfortunate&lt;br /&gt;that people should act this way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What they don't see is that his hair is fuzzy&lt;br /&gt;and what is loud is his laugh&lt;br /&gt;if they would just stop before running&lt;br /&gt;you know take the time and do the math&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they would see that this big monster&lt;br /&gt;is really quite a good catch&lt;br /&gt;one that won't run away&lt;br /&gt;no matter how bad the circumstance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for his size is good to lean on&lt;br /&gt;when going through really hard times&lt;br /&gt;and his laugh is good to cheer you&lt;br /&gt;after one thousand failed tries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but they give him no chance&lt;br /&gt;to this day they still run away&lt;br /&gt;that's why I'm his really good friend&lt;br /&gt;a friend that will always remain&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6068208581492476622?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6068208581492476622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6068208581492476622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6068208581492476622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6068208581492476622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-monster.html' title='my monster'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-1726542603629784322</id><published>2008-06-18T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T18:51:05.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Much Respect.</title><content type='html'>I really respect this man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JeNCdNxKVfk&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JeNCdNxKVfk&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-1726542603629784322?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/1726542603629784322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=1726542603629784322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1726542603629784322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1726542603629784322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/much-respect_18.html' title='Much Respect.'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-117263543784683123</id><published>2008-06-18T18:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T18:52:10.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>blueberry muffins.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1303/775999478_716d3e8526.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1303/775999478_716d3e8526.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mmm mmm. mine probbly won't taste as good as these look.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-117263543784683123?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/117263543784683123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=117263543784683123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/117263543784683123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/117263543784683123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/blueberry-muffins.html' title='blueberry muffins.'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1303/775999478_716d3e8526_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-5661655019364652466</id><published>2008-06-17T19:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T19:43:45.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm quite daft</title><content type='html'>it has just occurred to me now&lt;br /&gt;that im not good at many things&lt;br /&gt;like football, bowling, or sewing&lt;br /&gt;or making pretty things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been quite talented&lt;br /&gt;at keeping my mouth shut&lt;br /&gt;or even saying the right things&lt;br /&gt;especially when it counts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been too good at waiting&lt;br /&gt;still to this very day&lt;br /&gt;But i think i've found the right thing&lt;br /&gt;that might be worth the wait&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not too eloquent in word&lt;br /&gt;not yet quite smooth enough&lt;br /&gt;but someday i'll write a love letter&lt;br /&gt;that might cause someone to love&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-5661655019364652466?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/5661655019364652466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=5661655019364652466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5661655019364652466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5661655019364652466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/im-quite-daft.html' title='I&apos;m quite daft'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-7966853244490165115</id><published>2008-06-12T17:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T17:36:07.021-07:00</updated><title type='text'>thoughts from my day</title><content type='html'>The main flaw I have as a songwriter is a lack of adaptivity... I make an impact with my music in intimate, close settings. But that does not translate well onto a stage with a microphone. And I don't know how to change that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disappointments of the day:&lt;br /&gt;-getting charged extra because of a late ticket payment, which I hope was caused by mailing errors.&lt;br /&gt;-getting a fee for punching a hole in my dorm room wall, and what they called a recore lock&lt;br /&gt;-finding out that hume lake raped me out of 250 bucks for two weeks of room and board.&lt;br /&gt;-realizing I may not be going back to hume&lt;br /&gt;-selling my guitar for less then I could have gotten&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Highlights of the day:&lt;br /&gt;-playing with troubadour&lt;br /&gt;-being told my phlebotomy resume was impressive&lt;br /&gt;-talking to the CEO of Phi Delta Epsilon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that God may be telling me that I care too much about money... well saying that God is telling me might be a stretch, but he may be using these things to enlighten my state of mind...&lt;br /&gt;Why do I care about money so much... its pointless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-7966853244490165115?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/7966853244490165115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=7966853244490165115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7966853244490165115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7966853244490165115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/thoughts-from-my-day.html' title='thoughts from my day'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-724422768507719092</id><published>2008-06-09T22:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T22:05:19.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Muses</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.smmirror.com/Volume1/issue22/images/audrey_hepburn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.smmirror.com/Volume1/issue22/images/audrey_hepburn.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My muse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.retrosellers.com/images/boyd106.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.retrosellers.com/images/boyd106.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harrison's/Clapton's/Lennon's Muse&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-724422768507719092?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/724422768507719092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=724422768507719092' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/724422768507719092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/724422768507719092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/muses.html' title='Muses'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-3585108647273347779</id><published>2008-06-09T21:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T21:44:43.487-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my thumb hurts</title><content type='html'>I don't have much to say but once again i have been reminded&lt;br /&gt;just how amazing God's love is.&lt;br /&gt;It is so predictable, I don't deserve anything&lt;br /&gt;but God loves me too much to ignore me. Well not completely&lt;br /&gt;that is. man I serve a great God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here is something i wrote in the middle of last summer while I was in Barcelona, Spain on vacation with my family. feel free to read and contemplate on it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Tonight while I was walking to buy European cigarettes with my dad's money, a prostitute grabbed my arm. Her touch felt just like mine would. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;God loves us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;God loves us, even when we use our parents money to do things that we will regret. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;God loved me even when i ripped my arm from the hand of a woman that He loves dearly. I should have lovingly denied what she offered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Love. It is such a hard thing to do, and yet God does it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;i hate how beautiful that is, because I have trouble loving myself, even when I am doing pretty good. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I hate smoking, but I do it anyways. In the instant that I light a cigarette I feel the heart of God hurting just like mine does. I think this is because in that instant I am choosing the feeling of smoke and nicotine over Him; and at that moment I dont believe that God can off me anything better than a cigarette. So I light up. Pretty great huh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;God still loves me though. It is never ending.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Many men have taken their lives in order to bypass all the pain in this world, but God would rather us live. Even if each day is exponentially more painful than the next, because we are choosing Him, over everything else. That's how we love Him back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I am beginning to see why choosing to follow Jesus is a bit like taking up a cross. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;"God give me strength to follow you. i am a coward, a thief, and an adulterer. i am nothing. I fear that i will not be able to face the day when i see you, let alone every day before then."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Tonight, while I was walking, there was a group of what most would call scum of the earth, hanging out on a fountain. It then occurred to me that my God would've hung out with them instead of seeing the sights. I am sure that His love would have overwhelmed them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I walked by, with fear in my heart. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;and I call myself a Christian. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;its laughable. no wonder the world calls us hypocrites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My prayer is that God will have so much of me, His love will pour out from every pore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-3585108647273347779?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/3585108647273347779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=3585108647273347779' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/3585108647273347779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/3585108647273347779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-thumb-hurts.html' title='my thumb hurts'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6604551603223731576</id><published>2008-06-09T01:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T01:11:42.772-07:00</updated><title type='text'>quitting</title><content type='html'>Pros/Con List for smoking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-looks bad ass... sometimes&lt;br /&gt;       -Is fun... sometimes&lt;br /&gt;       -asdfasdfasd&lt;br /&gt;       -don't have to go through the process of quitting...&lt;br /&gt;        -quitting=suckfest '08&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cons&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Unhealthy&lt;br /&gt;       -History of lung cancer in family&lt;br /&gt;       -Don't really enjoy it as much&lt;br /&gt;       -expensive&lt;br /&gt;       -screws with ma singing voice&lt;br /&gt;       -smells bad&lt;br /&gt;       -my mom hates it&lt;br /&gt;       -wastes time&lt;br /&gt;        -causes me to cough, excessively&lt;br /&gt;       -some of my friends hate it&lt;br /&gt;       -doesn't really do me any good&lt;br /&gt;       -girls don't really like it... and i'm ALL ABOUT THEM GIRLS... (?)&lt;br /&gt;       -need to quit anyways, don't want to smoke around my kids or wife... or girlfriend for that&lt;br /&gt;        matter.&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;br /&gt;it's pretty obvious what I should do. dang it, I hate exercising self-control.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6604551603223731576?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6604551603223731576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6604551603223731576' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6604551603223731576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6604551603223731576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/quitting.html' title='quitting'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-3155689767759508701</id><published>2008-06-09T00:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T01:01:29.877-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Santa Cruz</title><content type='html'>So together with two other good friends I went to Santa Cruz today for church at vintage faith... an awesome post-modern church directed towards the artistic community (among others) in SC. We had some time to kill so we headed downtown and ended up grabbing coffee and just walking around. In the process I nabbed a pair of zig-zag hemp slip-on shoes that are ill as all get out for under 20 bucks!!! On our way back to the car we passed a couple gutter-punks our age who had a sign that read...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ugly. Broke. Hungry."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped and turned to one of the guys and nonchalantly said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's okay man, I'm ugly too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy looked at me, said&lt;br /&gt;"Fuck man..." genuinely taken aback,&lt;br /&gt;looked down for a second, then back up again and said,&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know how to come back to that!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laughed and we walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Church was great and after we went to this awesome lounge/bar called the red room for beer, appetizers and to listen to the jazz band that was playing. The night was filled with conversation, really good beer (I personally had this dark Belgian lager 1554 and this tart beer Rodenbach Grand Cru) and the musings of my mind on pretty ladies with jazz in the background.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Altogether it was a damn good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And over all I consider myself blessed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-3155689767759508701?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/3155689767759508701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=3155689767759508701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/3155689767759508701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/3155689767759508701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/untitled_09.html' title='Santa Cruz'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-7665087196020088359</id><published>2008-06-07T22:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T22:56:19.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Name</title><content type='html'>Alexander, Helper of Mankind.&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't seem likely&lt;br /&gt;I'm not always kind&lt;br /&gt;In fact most times i am sarcastic&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'm rude&lt;br /&gt;Although I'd hate to admit it&lt;br /&gt;I might be a prude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uptight and often obtuse&lt;br /&gt;You'd never know it&lt;br /&gt;But it might be the truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes on sunny days&lt;br /&gt;When my worries get swept away&lt;br /&gt;and the sunshine shines through&lt;br /&gt;I see that what my name means&lt;br /&gt;might actually be true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I care a lot about what people think&lt;br /&gt;and make an extra effort to make it come true&lt;br /&gt;I love to make the sad smile&lt;br /&gt;and distract the sick from what is ailing them&lt;br /&gt;If I didn't know any better&lt;br /&gt;I would think I was made to help men&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-7665087196020088359?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/7665087196020088359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=7665087196020088359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7665087196020088359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/7665087196020088359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-name.html' title='My Name'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6807381531553997976</id><published>2008-06-07T22:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T21:48:32.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>She stood like a mountain&lt;br /&gt;Not out of mass or posture&lt;br /&gt;but because in my eyes&lt;br /&gt;she was a giant of beauty,&lt;br /&gt;standing in my way,&lt;br /&gt;blocking my sight of my most present goal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you stare at something long enough&lt;br /&gt;it is bound to become the focus&lt;br /&gt;Mountains are rather hard to avoid&lt;br /&gt;You can move miles to the left or right&lt;br /&gt;but they never yield a clear path of sight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once you embark on a journey over the mountain&lt;br /&gt;oh how a treacherous journey it can turn out to be&lt;br /&gt;and it was...&lt;br /&gt;  cold. As an arctic chill&lt;br /&gt;  long. as the range itself&lt;br /&gt;  But beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;Enough even to cause a weary, chilled traveler&lt;br /&gt;to forget where he was going in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want to press on once I was in the mountain&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to lay in the dewy-spongy grass&lt;br /&gt;and walk in a cool mountain brook&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so I didn't... for a while...&lt;br /&gt;  I learned that the more time I spent in the mountain&lt;br /&gt;the less I cared about... well... anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was like a mountain&lt;br /&gt;She still is.&lt;br /&gt;But I've been walking for so long away from her&lt;br /&gt;that she seems smaller with each day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6807381531553997976?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6807381531553997976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6807381531553997976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6807381531553997976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6807381531553997976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/untitled_07.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6248451289000741178</id><published>2008-06-06T23:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T00:02:42.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There is drool still on the hood...</title><content type='html'>so there is no easy way to put this...&lt;br /&gt;I ran into a kid today&lt;br /&gt;no older than 5&lt;br /&gt;they said he'd be fine&lt;br /&gt;so i guess I'm okay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he came out of nowhere&lt;br /&gt;bounced a foot or more&lt;br /&gt;off of the hood of my car&lt;br /&gt;I truly am surprised i did not swear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--this is not some fictional poem/crap, i really did run into a kid... it nearly scared me half to death. It felt like the point in a tragic movie where every body's life changes forever and the main character is left with thoughts of regret and shame for doing something so horrible as to end the life of a kid. One thing though, gratefully the kid did not die; he got a bloody nose though... and cried quite a bit. While driving away from the scene of the collision as well as for the rest of this bloody night I have been imagining children bouncing off of the hood of my car, just like an instant replay at a sports game. It has been ridiculous. Ridiculously horrible and comical. If i had the chance to observe myself from an outside perspective, without having actually done it, I probably would be laughing a lot! I guess this is what shock feels like. Thank God i didn't actually hurt him. He got a bloody nose! Hah! thankfully that was all. I think I am worse off than he is, of which I am thankful too. I would much rather have a shattered mind then have hurt the kid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--I don't know what I would do if I actually ended the life of a 5 year old... Probably something stupid... For some bizarre reason I have romanticized the idea of despair after an unfortunate event. When i was a lot younger I would day dream (except they were not at all pleasant) about my parents dying in a plane crash leaving my sister and I orphaned and what would happen because of it. I always saw it as me throwing myself into despair over the situation and turning to a lifestyle that would numb me from my past... mostly the norm: drugs and sex and alcohol... maybe it was just some deep seeded emotion looking for an excuse to get out. Or maybe i was just a stupid kid who thought that tragedy was euphoric in a way. Either way it reminds me now of some early 90's family movie like a mix between Free Willy and Angels In the Outfield... maybe a little Pinocchio too... haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--I can see me now, flapping my arms while graffiting on a wall, smoking a cigar and drinking a beer. (by the way if you can piece those three segments together without help, i am impressed... i tend to be far to vague when i reference outside sources). Actually that doesn't sound too bad. I love beer and graffiti (although never tagged anything) and while I don't flap my wings too often and tend to smoke cigarettes vs. cigars, I think i'd give it a shot. haha man... I am lame.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6248451289000741178?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6248451289000741178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6248451289000741178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6248451289000741178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6248451289000741178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/there-is-drool-still-on-hood.html' title='There is drool still on the hood...'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6025289015673240625</id><published>2008-06-05T14:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T14:30:53.864-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>I fell into a well today&lt;br /&gt;It stole my tune&lt;br /&gt;and happy phase&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as I sank in deeper still&lt;br /&gt;Out loud I sang a deep refrain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Lord have mercy&lt;br /&gt;on Me your Son&lt;br /&gt;For I have bought my own&lt;br /&gt;Damnation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beneath the crest&lt;br /&gt;of icy waves&lt;br /&gt;My breath grew still&lt;br /&gt;in deathly ways&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind then next&lt;br /&gt;to see the dark&lt;br /&gt;And i return&lt;br /&gt;from whence I start&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Death why doth thou remain so close&lt;br /&gt;Why can't thine own eyes but see my bones&lt;br /&gt;For how they shake and how they groan&lt;br /&gt;For fear that there's no chance of seeing hope&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6025289015673240625?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6025289015673240625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6025289015673240625' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6025289015673240625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6025289015673240625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/untitled.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-1018749511905959250</id><published>2008-06-05T14:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T14:22:31.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>True Love awaits in a magazine</title><content type='html'>True Love awaits in a magazine!&lt;br /&gt;In a picture of a pretty girl who jump-starts the heart.&lt;br /&gt;It waits to be rescued from the jail that bars its return.&lt;br /&gt;It is waiting impatiently, because it knows we are out there.&lt;br /&gt;It is calling, "Come claim your prize, noble one, you have won 'my' heart!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and it's just that is it not?... it, not SHE or HE, but IT; an object.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been waiting for that girl I see in sheets, with a shiny sheen, that clutter our heads&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this simply cannot be.&lt;br /&gt;IT is not real.&lt;br /&gt;But SHE may be.&lt;br /&gt;IT is a figment of our magazines&lt;br /&gt;or imaginations is it?&lt;br /&gt;Maybe then i will stop my fantasy&lt;br /&gt;When i realize.&lt;br /&gt;When i stop the ties,&lt;br /&gt;To dreams finished by a paintbrush or photoshop&lt;br /&gt;I'll see a more beautiful REAL version of she,&lt;br /&gt;One who's hand I can hold,&lt;br /&gt;who's face I can behold,&lt;br /&gt;and who's laugh can intoxicate my stronghold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The IT will turn into SHE&lt;br /&gt;and I will see what Love&lt;br /&gt;Truly can be&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-1018749511905959250?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/1018749511905959250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=1018749511905959250' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1018749511905959250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/1018749511905959250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/true-love-awaits-in-magazine.html' title='True Love awaits in a magazine'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-5883090508026516254</id><published>2008-06-05T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T00:00:36.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Itching</title><content type='html'>I'm itching to get going&lt;br /&gt;I'm part restless soul&lt;br /&gt;part rolling home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanna hit those roads&lt;br /&gt;And not look back&lt;br /&gt;Don't need no pack&lt;br /&gt;Don't need no home&lt;br /&gt;I'm meant to to roll&lt;br /&gt;and I'll keep on&lt;br /&gt;keep roamin' on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a part of me that longs to roam&lt;br /&gt;to make this car a rolling home&lt;br /&gt;so I'll get back on the road and move again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-5883090508026516254?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/5883090508026516254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=5883090508026516254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5883090508026516254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/5883090508026516254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/itching.html' title='Itching'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-4170062568421277935</id><published>2008-06-05T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T13:57:16.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Desire</title><content type='html'>I am piecing it together&lt;br /&gt;A fantasy I can rely on&lt;br /&gt;Neither twisted nor exaggerate&lt;br /&gt;delightfully fulfilling without truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am forming a dream&lt;br /&gt;And I will live in it&lt;br /&gt;One not fair or just&lt;br /&gt;for if it were I would not get what I want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a flaw, a single one&lt;br /&gt;For this to work, there'd be no God&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I stand to do this&lt;br /&gt;Single act of deceit&lt;br /&gt;Is it worth it to do this&lt;br /&gt;gain the world&lt;br /&gt;but sell my soul?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's times like these I feel magic&lt;br /&gt;Not in the real things&lt;br /&gt;But in my mind&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-4170062568421277935?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/4170062568421277935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=4170062568421277935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4170062568421277935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/4170062568421277935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/desire.html' title='Desire'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832659745846935712.post-6651711071824155796</id><published>2008-06-05T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T14:06:57.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Introduction</title><content type='html'>This is a progressive effort. I, in no way, will be publishing material that is polished or finished, usually they will be half-baked ideas needing open air to be thought through completely. I welcome you to this process and hope that you enjoy reading into my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Alex&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5832659745846935712-6651711071824155796?l=amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/feeds/6651711071824155796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5832659745846935712&amp;postID=6651711071824155796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6651711071824155796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5832659745846935712/posts/default/6651711071824155796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amwnowyouknow.blogspot.com/2008/06/introduction.html' title='Introduction'/><author><name>Alex</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12960137110496584379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XvsQIrvIFVU/TfQMJmW8YyI/AAAAAAAAABM/bwv1PswVK6M/s220/SDC10364.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
