<?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-3600566996790725490</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:55:08.282-06:00</updated><category term='Family Guy'/><category term='Jonathan Steingard'/><category term='Andrew'/><category term='Dumb and Dumber'/><category term='Nashville'/><category term='Las Paletas'/><category term='Halloween'/><category term='Dave Barnes'/><category term='Matt Wertz'/><category term='Saved by the Bell'/><category term='Carrie Underwood'/><category term='Family Force 5'/><category term='Baja Burrito'/><category term='Nightmare Before Christmas 3-D'/><title type='text'>old exit 6</title><subtitle type='html'>LOVE. TRAVEL. PEACE. MUSIC.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-716554818375671698</id><published>2010-10-03T10:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T22:17:41.361-05:00</updated><title type='text'>save blue like jazz!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.swap.com/images/books/05/0785263705.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 161px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 254px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://images.swap.com/images/books/05/0785263705.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Back on September 1, Donald Miller (&lt;i&gt;Blue Like Jazz, Through Painted Deserts, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years) &lt;/i&gt;spoke at Belmont University about living a better story. My friend Brittany and I decided to crash it. Best idea we've had since the two of us have been friends. What they decided to launch that day was the "Living a Better Story" campaign. Envelopes were passed around with different amounts of money in them. We were asked to "intentionally treat this money as God's money." I got $5. Brittany and I tossed some ideas around for a bit, but we couldn't come up with anything that really got us excited. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know how to use my $5. This is the story I submitted to Belmont's campaign: &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse;font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13;" class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;My name is Ambika and I am not a student of Belmont. However, I am an appreciative fan of Donald Miller's books. Pretty much every book he has written has become a part of my growth and his reflections seem to become my reflections. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I'm sorry if I violated some rule that pertained to only students participating, but after hearing Don Miller speak that day, I couldn't resist trying it out and seeing what would come of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I admit, I had an immensely hard time figuring out what it was that I could do with my $5. I could donate it to Mocha Club, but I didn't feel the excitement and the knowing I normally felt when tossing ideas around in my head. Then life got busy. So busy that I forgot to go grocery shopping and was eating too much Ramen. And my better story got put away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;It was a couple weeks later when I was surfing the internet, passing the time at work that I read Don Miller's blog. My favorite book, the book that had changed my life, Blue Like Jazz was going to be turned into a movie. This fact I knew, I had known about it for years. But what I didn't know and what I didn't want to read was that the project was put on hold or as Don Miller phrased it "the project went away". I was disappointed. When was it the Christian minority's turn to get their story told without Kirk Cameron being anywhere near it? When was it our chance to show how we grew up and what faith meant to us and the struggles we've faced and continue to face everyday? I was discouraged. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Until I saw the tweet. Two fans of Blue Like Jazz the Movie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; were trying to save it by collecting pledges from fans via Kickstarter. That's when I knew where my $5 was going (plus the other $95 I decided to add). $100 is a lot for me to give up, but I felt that odd sense of urgency and comfort knowing that it will be okay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;My only prayer while donating to this movie was one of hope. Pure, unadulterated hope. That Blue Like Jazz the Movie would ignite something in the world, especially the Christian world. Something that looks like love rather than just talking about it. Something that looked like grace, rather than just talking about it. Something that looked like the solid relationships that life should be built upon, rather than just talking about it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Something that looked like Jesus, rather than just talking about Him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The effort that is going into saving this movie is sincerely fascinating. It's only been 8 days, but so far over $75,000 has been pledged. That's 60.2% of their goal of $125,000. Plus, an investor promised to match the $125,000 if they raise it. This movie could be made after all. If you want to help, go here: www.savebluelikejazz.com. You can make a donation of at least $1. ($10 gets you a phone call from the director, Steve Taylor, thanking you. $100 means you're an Associate Producer. Which means my name will be in the credits. Which means I get to make an IMDB page. Which means awesome!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;b.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-716554818375671698?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/716554818375671698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=716554818375671698&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/716554818375671698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/716554818375671698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2010/10/save-blue-like-jazz.html' title='save blue like jazz!'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-2906363580784367588</id><published>2010-08-28T20:52:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-28T22:50:16.469-05:00</updated><title type='text'>thanksgiving &amp; beauty.</title><content type='html'>This may or may not get heavy. I'm leaning towards heavy happening though. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For those of you that don't know, I was in the hospital last week.  What I thought was severe back pain and an old softball/track &amp;amp; field injury coming back to haunt me (again), actually turned out to be two different blood clots.  One was in each of my lungs.  The one in my right side was comparable to the size of my fist.  The doctors are not entirely sure how they were caused, just that I was lucky to come to the hospital when I did.  At the beginning of the night I was offered two choices: grab some pain medication and head home to sleep it off or stay for a bit, maybe run some tests and find out exactly what it is.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm glad I stayed for the tests.  The next morning, when I was alone (before some friends were nice enough to come keep me company), trying to sleep off the intense pain medication they gave me the night before, the doctors told me news that I never thought I'd hear at the age of 23.  If I had chosen to take the first option of pain killers and had just gone home, I would have most likely died.  (Seeing that typed out is very sobering.)  It was difficult to say the least, accepting this news.  Knowing that if I had decided to be stubborn and not face my fear of hospitals (and also stop pretending that I wasn't 16 anymore and thus, invincible) that my own choice would have been my demise. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One thing I have taken away from this experience so far is this: I am happy to know that I was not regretful nor was I scared to think about the other option.  Sure, I was emotional to think about it, but I began to take comfort in the fact that there must be something for me if God didn't take me yet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Naturally it has been an emotional week.  Everything was affecting me.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;PSAs&lt;/span&gt; I was watching at work, I would tear up at.  Hearing different songs, no matter the content, would make my eyes well.  I think those tears were my way of processing a mixture of relief, fright, homesickness and thankfulness.  I had just been through the most frightening experience of my life and I couldn't have my family with me.  But I was also thankful.  Thankful to still be alive and thankful for the friends that had showed me so much love.  Thankful for Will for keeping me company and taking amazing care of me while I was in the ER.  Thankful for my amazing nurse, Lila for being so talented and giving me the best care I'd ever received.  Thankful for Vanessa and Lauren and Zack and Brie for their prayers.  Thankful for Brittany and Anita and Amber for coming to keep me company.  Thankful for my parents and my sister for keeping me positive and unafraid.  Thankful for everything.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This past summer, I had been stuck in a bit of a slump.  I was no longer sure of myself.  I felt uprooted, unbalanced and out of place.  After this though, I found a renewed sense of self.  I know I have previously written about this, but after this, it just CLICKED.  I want to be, no, I NEED to be:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;genuinely compassionate&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;genuinely loving&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;genuinely caring&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;genuinely kind&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;genuinely listening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is nothing, absolutely &lt;i&gt;nothing &lt;/i&gt;more important  in this world than the relationships we make and the way we treat others.  I want to &lt;b&gt;love.  I want to live love. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is because of your acts of love: the calling, the prayers, the texts, the tweets, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt; messages, that make me feel so blessed to have all of you in my life.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel nothing but inspiration and joy knowing what I know now.  I am absolutely sure about what I know and I feel like I am coming closer to understanding God.  Everything about this world is insanely beautiful, everything shining as brightly and uniquely as it was made.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And probably not by accident (yet another reason I am convinced that my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;iTunes&lt;/span&gt; has a mind of it's own), this song came on shuffle the other day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/r3Cg1wxgX6M?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/r3Cg1wxgX6M?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm learning it's okay to let go. I am completely safe. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Absolutely safe. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;b.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-2906363580784367588?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/2906363580784367588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=2906363580784367588&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/2906363580784367588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/2906363580784367588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2010/08/thanksgiving-beauty.html' title='thanksgiving &amp; beauty.'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-8528952924508401671</id><published>2010-08-10T00:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T00:16:45.135-05:00</updated><title type='text'>unsettled but content. confusion ensues (maybe)</title><content type='html'>Rarely, I'll post something from my own private journal.  I'm curious to know how other people are feeling that are in the same position as myself.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--- &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8.9.10. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think because I was waiting for so long to PA for "my life to start", that now something has started happening (new job, new friends, new city) I feel like it's not going fast enough.  I'm patient with everything/everybody else -- except for myself.  I don't know what it is exactly that I'm so impatient for, but I just feel...unsettled right now.  Not quite anxious and not antsy, but maybe a mixture. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also want to be more genuine.  I know I've written about this before, but since it's still on my heart, it's obviously something I still feel I need to work on.  Genuine in everything I do, every emotion I feel and convey to others.  I want to be able to express myself verbally, in a way that I am comfortable and okay with talking to people and lettings words just flow out.  I want to make people feel beautiful and loved.  I want to have a spirit that's contagious.  I want to be on FIRE with love; almost with a reckless abandon.  I know some days I do, but I want it to be everyday. Yes, it's exhausting, but it's worth it.  I want to be bold in love -- all kinds of love...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;----&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now reading over that I think I know why I feel antsy.  Growing up with the expectation of "you go to college, you get a good job, you get married, you have kids, you have a happy life" prepares you horribly for life.  My parents may not have ingrained that in me, but society &amp;amp; media certainly have. Sure, I've come to not believe it in recent years, but honestly, who can kick that out of their mind when they see it happening to so many of their peers? I understand that I have a different path in life, I get that. But when something you see as "ludicrous" is happening to everyone around you, it makes you feel like the odd man out.  I'm not crying out for the life of a suburban housewife (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;gagme&lt;/span&gt;). Trust me, that is the exact last thing I'm doing. This is just me thinking out loud to try and figure out this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;unsettledness&lt;/span&gt; in my being.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not frustrated.  I'm not unhappy.  I'm very content and very satisfied with my life.  Things are going well and moving at the right pace.  So why am I still with this "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;unsettledness&lt;/span&gt;"?  Is it because I'm still a little uprooted from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Chambersburg&lt;/span&gt;? Have I not found my niche here in Nashville yet? Am I so used to the "bubble of society" we normally call college?  Maybe I'm not used to the idea of &lt;i&gt;living &lt;/i&gt;here. Yes, I've lived here before, but I still feel like I'm leaving soon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want it to go away.  This feeling.  But I'll process it, ride it out, see where it takes me, just like I do everything else: I'll sleep on it.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-8528952924508401671?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/8528952924508401671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=8528952924508401671&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/8528952924508401671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/8528952924508401671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2010/08/rarely-ill-post-something-from-my-own.html' title='unsettled but content. confusion ensues (maybe)'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-5590413230477048702</id><published>2010-07-27T10:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T10:47:10.594-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the music city.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTY1p3Y3um2aiisswketmXH53dv28WX-zAZGVUUpE6n7Nm1uNs&amp;amp;t=1&amp;amp;usg=__2VvHFahX85p7ylxz0YmuhNfb3-o="&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTY1p3Y3um2aiisswketmXH53dv28WX-zAZGVUUpE6n7Nm1uNs&amp;amp;t=1&amp;amp;usg=__2VvHFahX85p7ylxz0YmuhNfb3-o=" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've been living in Nashville for 2 months (tomorrow).  And this city is everything I wanted it to be and more than what I'd hoped for. I'd lived here previously, so I didn't take much adjusting.  Probably the most adjusting I've had to do so far was when I first got here, I was scrambling to see all of my friends.  It was so ingrained in me that I would only be here for less than 24 hours that when people couldn't hang out, I was getting upset. When I was unpacking and setting up my room, I kept thinking "this is CRAZY.  Why did I bring all of this stuff with me?  I'm leaving, like, TOMORROW.  Pack all of this back up." It was like I was forcing myself to unpack.  Unpacking all of those familiar things and placing them in such foreign places, despite being different, it was extremely comfortable.  My comfort level in this city amazes me.  Yeah, it feels like home.  Actually, in reality, it always did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-5590413230477048702?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/5590413230477048702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=5590413230477048702&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/5590413230477048702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/5590413230477048702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2010/07/music-city.html' title='the music city.'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-763945850244618582</id><published>2010-07-11T15:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-11T15:35:10.314-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ramblings</title><content type='html'>I've been trying to write for 15 minutes everyday. It was an exercise we got into when I was in junior high, and it helped. A lot. It's healthy to have a stream of consciousness and write anything without fear of being judged. It's writing without a filter. This notebook isn't a personal journal, so I have no hesitancy in posting this. But I'd love to hear your thoughts on it and how much farther this can be taken. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(from 7.10.10)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder what it'd be like to live on some other plane of existence, but I knew and remembered about my time here on this one.  Maybe a universe where &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;everybody's&lt;/span&gt; knees bent the other direction.  Or music was a completely different entity -- or what if it didn't ever exist/wasn't invented? How much would that change an entire NATION/universe of people's lives? Holy SHIT. Expression would completely change.  Art would change.  What would their music sound like without the influence of previous artists? What would their very first song sound like? Could you teach them music without influencing them towards a certain style? How would they figure out rhythm or scales or tone or pitch or meter?  Somebody would teach them, but what would it be like to watch that process unfold? Explaining something as common and diverse and complex as music to a person who has never heard it -- what would it be like? Or explaining any other idea/concept? It's wicked.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How would you describe feelings or emotions? Scientifically or artistically?  I wouldn't be able to explain with words.  I'd have to take what little talent I had and paint it.  Or play a song.  But not everyone has the same reaction to the same song. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder if people, had they never heard of music, if they were wondering if they were missing out on something?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-763945850244618582?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/763945850244618582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=763945850244618582&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/763945850244618582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/763945850244618582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2010/07/ramblings.html' title='ramblings'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-5696609795521169347</id><published>2010-07-07T14:51:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T15:34:09.580-05:00</updated><title type='text'>timing love.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://colinshaun.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/emma-caulfield-timer-movie-poster-mq-01-506c0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 195px; height: 298px;" src="http://colinshaun.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/emma-caulfield-timer-movie-poster-mq-01-506c0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I just watched the movie &lt;i&gt;Timer &lt;/i&gt;last night with Emma Caulfield.  A good friend recommended it to me over the summer, and it was well worth the watch.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Timer &lt;/i&gt;presents the idea of having a guaranteed true love.  The characters have timers installed on their wrists that will tell them exactly when they will meet their "one". It's beautifully written, charming and honest. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After I had watched it, I kept thinking about it. I was up for awhile thinking about it actually.  Wondering: &lt;i&gt;Would I want to know? &lt;/i&gt;and &lt;i&gt;What would I do if I &lt;b&gt;did &lt;/b&gt;know? &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The only two options I see in front of me would be to either 1) wait around or 2) live it up (because you know that no matter what you do, you'll have somebody, there's no guessing). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I went with the first option, life would begin to lose it's zest and the reasons that life is so...live-able. It's the balance between heartache and romance and tears and laughter that make living worth it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You could make yourself a better [prepared] person for spending the rest of your life with someone else, but the way these people were conditioned to think &lt;i&gt;because &lt;/i&gt;of the timers, when your timer went off, you were meant to be.  So people really took you as you were. There was no need to self-improve, no need to change to please a person or to adapt to that person. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In a way, it really takes away the "growing up" part of life.  You're supposed to get hurt.  How are you supposed to &lt;i&gt;know &lt;/i&gt;what all the good things in life are without experiencing the bad? Life is balance, and you take one of those elements away, and suddenly everything is out of sync. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not only will life lose it's zest, love songs would change. There wouldn't be a pining for anybody, you know they're there. It's just a matter of when your timer runs out.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's always the notion of that comfort, knowing you're not alone and you'll eventually meet them.  But for what? You bypass any and all other experiences that come your way because of something ticking on your wrist? Emma &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Caulfield's&lt;/span&gt; character, Oona, begins to lose hope when her timer has yet to turn on. So she looks for love outside of the schedule. And finds it. It breaks her heart, it makes her question things and wrestle with emotions she's never dealt with before. It's not until her timer actually turns on, that she realizes that she doesn't know anything outside of the "love schedule."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How incredibly frustrating is that? You would essentially spend your entire life waiting.  Yeah, waiting for a surefire guarantee, but I don't know...I can't sit around. I get restless and antsy. I want experiences out of life, even if it gets me hurt. I'll take it all if it means living the most that I can. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Living it up" is always an option.  Her sister, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Steph&lt;/span&gt;, does it.  But she finds nothing in it. I don't find it appealing. Actually, I don't find either option appealing.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And there's different types of love. You can meet someone and immediately know or you can be friends and it'll "blossom into love".  Love is it's own monster, I feel like you can't make it work to a scientific schedule.  Or you shouldn't make it work to a scientific schedule. Forcing something out of anything is never right, and it's never the way to go.  What if the timers were just self-fulfilling prophecies? You can choose a different path.  You can go somewhere else.  You can go where you want. You can do what you want. Living life to such a constraining lifestyle would be hell. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do you think? Would you want to know? What would you do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a nice gesture, these timers, but I prefer the mystery. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-5696609795521169347?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/5696609795521169347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=5696609795521169347&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/5696609795521169347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/5696609795521169347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2010/07/timing-love.html' title='timing love.'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-9124613349246413798</id><published>2010-07-06T10:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T10:46:00.598-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm not terribly great at poetry. but i wrote this yesterday. thoughts?</title><content type='html'>you need to know me&lt;div&gt;i need you, somebody, to know me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i have so many secrets that i want to share&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so much of my soul that i want to bare&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mustering up the courage to show you my heart (nobody's claimed it yet)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i'm not entirely sure anybody's wanted it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;see, i haven't been careless, and i've tried being bold&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but it's time to jump all in&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;head first.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;whoever you are, let's do this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-9124613349246413798?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/9124613349246413798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=9124613349246413798&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/9124613349246413798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/9124613349246413798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2010/07/im-not-terribly-great-at-poetry-but-i.html' title='i&apos;m not terribly great at poetry. but i wrote this yesterday. thoughts?'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-3440194367616215076</id><published>2010-06-18T22:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T23:14:07.172-05:00</updated><title type='text'>unpredictability in all probability</title><content type='html'>Clear-headed. &lt;div&gt;That's what I am. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Clear-headed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Strangely, it's the results of &lt;i&gt;How I Met Your Mother&lt;/i&gt;. I'm learning so much about myself from this show. Things I thought I wanted and was ready for, are obviously not it at all. But I'm going to keep moving forward.  Clear-headed.  I'm going to make mistakes to learn from them.  Yeah, I'll get my heart broken, but you know what? It's going to happen whether I have control over it or not. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I moved to Nashville for something new. Something different. Away from the rut I was finding myself in.  I wanted new life experiences.  I wanted adventure (the adventures of paying rent and bills and being an adult, sure...).  And I'm getting it.  I'm getting all of it.  Bring it all on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;My heartbeat beats me senselessly&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Why's&lt;/span&gt; everything gotta be so intense with me?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;I'm trying to handle all this unpredictability&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;In all probability. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I'll take it as it's thrown at me.  Things are changing.  I'm changing.  My relationships are changing.  You'll have that.  There's no other way to deal with it then to just let it go.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-3440194367616215076?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/3440194367616215076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=3440194367616215076&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/3440194367616215076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/3440194367616215076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2010/06/unpredictability-in-all-probability.html' title='unpredictability in all probability'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-6392158824659239897</id><published>2010-06-14T13:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T13:59:00.334-05:00</updated><title type='text'>regarding my surroundings</title><content type='html'>I was inspired by my good friend Alex. (found &lt;a href="http://adalious.wordpress.com/2010/06/13/ambient-composition/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.) In his recent post, he wrote about "ambient composition" and how everything around you can be interpreted as music, despite being random.  The pitch in the fan, the rhythm of the dryer and the syncopation of a text notification.  All are random, but can and do have a musical quality to them. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm taking it one step further and perhaps in another direction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seeing as how Alex is musically inclined and partial to various pitches and rhythms and any other musical terminology he can drop in a conversation, he naturally notices these things. I'll hear them too, but it's not my forte. What I imagine when I'm sitting here on my couch is what's going on around me. Almost like the &lt;a href="http://www.veoh.com/browse/videos/category/educational/watch/v6262258xnsd42fd"&gt;Power of 10&lt;/a&gt; video we watched in junior high.  Instead of adding another zero and expanding in an ever growing circumference, I imagine what's happening in the places I've been a part of. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I imagine what I would be hearing and smelling were I at home, in my old room.  The sounds of my sister in the living room, watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;.  I hear a muted reality of what she is watching, voices as if they are talking through a pillow, bass frequencies lightly vibrating my floor/the living room's ceiling. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(The changes in pitch, frequency and general quality of sound amaze me, depending on your position and what lies between you and the source.  Even listening to a test tone, one can bend the pitch depending on the way you turn your head.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I glance over to a picture of my freshmen mentoring group from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Milligan&lt;/span&gt;.  We all lead different lives, most of us are married, some of us are single, and a couple still need to grow up and apologize for some things.  A couple years ago, I may have felt a twinge of sadness, not being able to keep in touch with them.  But I've let that go.  I'll see them when I see them.  No point in losing sleep over people who probably don't worry about not talking to you.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I move from the 8x10 to my wall of various concert posters and snapshots.  These posters are reminders of memories that are either prominent in my mind, or just something that I know I did.  I find some significance in them, but nothing of emotional importance. (When I packed to move, most of them were thrown out).  They're just posters after all, not family heirlooms.  So why did I feel a little pang as I tossed them into the garbage?  With a strange sense of growing up accompanying it.  Even now, my new room at my new house in my new city has a distinctly different feeling than the one in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Chambersburg&lt;/span&gt;. (I need more pictures of friends though.  My parents are bringing the rest of my stuff when they come down this weekend. Pictures will be with them.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Remembering different facets of my room feels weird.  Knowing those elements are no longer together, creating the image of 'me' that I wanted to project.  My full-length mirror with more stuff on it than need-be so it didn't serve it's purpose of reflecting yourself back to you.  The obnoxious orange and silver dresser my sister and I spray-painted one night.  My nightstand that was a collage that was "in development" since 8&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade.  All pieces from the past, but not things that I need to take with me into my future. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Future. Damn. It's hazy. But it's exciting.  It's something to look forward to.  And there's something &lt;i&gt;new &lt;/i&gt;to look forward to.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So despite how many times I re-watch &lt;i&gt;Firefly &lt;/i&gt;and &lt;i&gt;Arrested Development, &lt;/i&gt;I'm eagerly looking forward.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And by "another direction" I mean something almost completely unrelated. But it works. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;b.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-6392158824659239897?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/6392158824659239897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=6392158824659239897&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/6392158824659239897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/6392158824659239897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2010/06/regarding-my-surroundings.html' title='regarding my surroundings'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-4819487662546619137</id><published>2007-11-09T09:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T09:35:51.513-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family Force 5'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nightmare Before Christmas 3-D'/><title type='text'>mini-me. you complete me.</title><content type='html'>I found my copy of the 7th grade talent show.  Watching that and seeing some friends that I haven't seen in awhile was awesome.  Of course as soon as I was done watching I Facebooked everybody and told them of the gold that I had re-discovered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How are you? How is your life? What's new? I hope everything is going wonderful.  Or if not, you're on your way to wonderful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I find it kind of ridiculous that 8th graders are visiting campuses now. SO strange.  Why do you have to start worrying about college so early? There's the second group! WHERE DO YOU COME FROM??)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have one class left for the day and then it's the weekend. Yessss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vanessa and I are going to see Nightmare Before Christmas in 3D this weekend. The clown with the tearaway face will probably terrify me. Creepy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Force 5 on Sunday. YES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, this is enough.  I'm wasting internet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(in sinister, evil, terrifying voice) &lt;br /&gt;Here in a flash and gone without a trace!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-4819487662546619137?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/4819487662546619137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=4819487662546619137&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/4819487662546619137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/4819487662546619137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/11/mini-me-you-complete-me.html' title='mini-me. you complete me.'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-872897602475841464</id><published>2007-10-26T09:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T09:44:34.425-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Andrew'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carrie Underwood'/><title type='text'>random facts about me. like, really random.</title><content type='html'>I wasn't necessarily tagged by anybody, but I thought I'd start one again. These are always interesting to read, especially when you know (or think you know) the person pretty well. Ok, here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I used to be afraid to fall asleep in public places (i.e. student lounges) but I think I've gotten over it because, sometimes, you just need to sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I wear shorts in the winter.  I don't know why I do, I don't find it that cold.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I'm a horrible test taker.  And this semester my classes barely have any out of class work.  So, I'm stuck with test grades.  Which means I have to get better at this whole test taking thing. Gar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  The longest I've talked to somebody on the phone was Lauren.  Which was clocked at about 3 hours.  Hey, Virginia's a pretty long state.  And by "pretty long" I mean ridiculously long. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  There are certain people I admire for being themselves and standing up for themselves, no matter what.  Lance Bass is one of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Speaking of Lance Bass, and it's not like this is not a well-known fact about me, but I still and always will love *//\\// Sync :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  The way I de-stress is by driving.  And singing Carrie Underwood super loud doesn't hurt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  I think I have stage fright.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  When I have a crush on somebody, I think I try too hard to be their friend.  Meaning, I push for that friendship and then we're forever stuck in the "friend zone."  But this time, I'm playing it cool.  I hope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I used to hate going line-dancing, or the mere thought of it, but after 2 years of resisting my friends, they finally convinced me to go.  And I quite enjoyed it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. I'm done.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's a bad thing that Doritos exist.  Once I start eating them, I can't ever stop.  And I loathe the small bags because they offer such a limited supply of sustenance.  Curse you small bag of Doritos. Curse you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going home this weekend.  It's mainly to work, but there's also a Halloween party at Erik's.  I'm pretty excited to get away from campus.  Every now and again I need that break, something to make things fluid again, not stagnant.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've finally found a church here.  FINALLY.  And it's so nice.  I like what the pastor has to say and I can really identify.  It's new (it meets in a middle school cafetorium) and a lot of people my age are there.  Nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, the IT people are going to come steal the computers in 9 minutes.  So, I am forced to sign off and actually head towards the building where my class resides. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Farewell Gentle Viewers. (If you get this, you should be my friend.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-872897602475841464?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/872897602475841464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=872897602475841464&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/872897602475841464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/872897602475841464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/10/random-facts-about-me-like-really.html' title='random facts about me. like, really random.'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-5195633785085650738</id><published>2007-09-24T13:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T09:26:23.367-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nashville'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baja Burrito'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Matt Wertz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Las Paletas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family Guy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dave Barnes'/><title type='text'>LOVE and the rest of life.</title><content type='html'>It's something I've been thinking a lot about lately. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving people for who they are and not for personal gain. It's difficult, but I'm working on it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm here in the campus libary, coveting the Mac OSX  that I am playing on. Classes started about 4 weeks ago, and I am in them full throttle.  I have 4 tests this week (1 down, 3 to go) and two of the tests are completely dry subjects that I kind of want to fall asleep upon immediately entering class. Gar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being back in PA is interesting.  Along with being away from home again.  You crave weird things when you're away from them.  For example, I'm willing to drive to Nashville (and I know Lauren and Vanessa would join me) for a popsicle and a burrito. Yum. But not just any popsicle or burrito, Baja Burrito and Las Paletas. Perfection. And then from home I'm craving my dad's curried chicken on Sunday and mac and cheese with tuna and lots of pepper. Gah. I'm making myself hungry just thinking about it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Guy season premiere, hilarious.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vanessa said that I should update, and this is what I'm doing.  I don't really have anything particularly interesting to say, so it's all pretty random ramblings.  Which is a majority of some blogs I find. Except for the ones I read, because they're, well, interesting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matt Wertz and Dave Barnes are touring together.  Basically, they should call it Tour of Awesomeness. Instead its "Two Birds/One Stone" Look for them if you're interested.  Dave's basically a stand-up comedian and Matt's a pretty good performer.  Plus, the two of them are best friends and they have awesome stage chemistry.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'm going to surf the interwebs some more. Catch you on the flip flop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-5195633785085650738?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/5195633785085650738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=5195633785085650738&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/5195633785085650738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/5195633785085650738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/09/love-and-rest-of-life.html' title='LOVE and the rest of life.'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-1040741571389395171</id><published>2007-05-23T23:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-23T23:19:21.818-05:00</updated><title type='text'>opportunities are arising as we type</title><content type='html'>Everything about Nashville feels so right. The idea of it, the closeness of it, the fact that it's happening, it all feels so right. Talking about it as if it's something I do every summer feels right.  Everything has been working out so well, and I just pray that the events that precede this move are only foreshadowing the events that will happen in these two months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As so obviously put previously, summer has kicked off.  Most of my nights have been spent in somebody else's couch or floor or backyard or favored water bed.  I sleep elsewhere for fear of waking my sister when I come home in the middle of the night.  But they've been good experiences.  I feel as if I live at my friend Erik and Aaron's house.  I'm there that often.  But they don't mind...I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pray for my friend Renee, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love when friendships pick up right where they left off.  It seems to happen to me a lot lately because of college.  For instance, my best friend Ali and I hardly find time to talk during the school year because we're both super SUPER busy.  But when I come home, everything is wonderful and we take walks and find ourselves spilling our guts to each other about the past week or so's events.  God bless "friend walks." Okay, I sound like a freaking Hallmark card. Somebody stop me. Yeeesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;List O' Random Crap:&lt;br /&gt;- Renee and I built a fire pit in Alicia's backyard. It's pretty ass-kickin.&lt;br /&gt;- I shopped for 7 hours today.  I'm going to die.&lt;br /&gt;- For the first time shopping I did not buy a CD, book, or movie.  I feel weird.&lt;br /&gt;- $800 cameras take amazing pictures. (They should for that much money.)&lt;br /&gt;- My youth group is falling apart.  The board made a horrible decision in choosing a new leader.  I'm sure there will be more on that later.&lt;br /&gt;- Try this quesadilla: 2 shells, cheese and turkey dipped in mustard. Delish.  College has certainly made my improvisational skills in the kitchen better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's late. I must go. My body feels like it's failing and fading away.  I shall breathe my goodbye...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bless,&lt;br /&gt;Bika :]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-1040741571389395171?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/1040741571389395171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=1040741571389395171&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/1040741571389395171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/1040741571389395171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/05/opportunities-are-arising-as-we-type.html' title='opportunities are arising as we type'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-8548778985761521682</id><published>2007-05-03T12:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T23:30:16.574-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nashville'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dumb and Dumber'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carrie Underwood'/><title type='text'>haven't been here in a long time</title><content type='html'>I've been away, busy with school work and working on lots and lots of projects. And I've been lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave school for the summer next Wednesday. I'm not gonna lie, I'm pretty excited. I'm excited to interrupt this feeling of being stagnant. I find it difficult to sit in one spot for more than a couple of weeks at a time. I need that break from the norm.  Routine frustrates me greatly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of moving out of the dorms, I have to start taking things off of my wall.  It's going to be depressing once my John Mayer, Johnny Depp, Talladega Nights and collages of pictures of friends no longer occupy my walls.  My room will once again resemble a hospital, minus the disgusting smell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In about a month I'm making the move to Nashville. I am pretty excited for this. This is going to be completely different from what I'm accustomed to.  This summer I won't be surrounded by one Starbucks, small town diners where I walk into and everybody knows my parents and my mom's side of the family, Erik and Aaron's house about 5 miles away, horse and buggies slowing down traffic outside of Shippensburg, and Rita's.  Instead it'll be minimal mountains, a decent sized city, the South, sweet tea :], fried chicken, Lauren and Tiffany, the opportunity to make new friends, spending time with people I normally don't get a chance to, and not having to drive 3 hours for the closest large scale concert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I still feel like where I'm supposed to be&lt;br /&gt;But don't forget to remember me&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I find myself leaning by the bed to pray&lt;br /&gt;I haven't done this in awhile&lt;br /&gt;So I don't know what to say&lt;br /&gt;But Lord I feel so small sometimes&lt;br /&gt;In this big, ole place&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I know there's more important things&lt;br /&gt;But don't forget to remember me&lt;br /&gt;Don't forget to remember me&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I love it when the time is 1:23 or 12:34)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finals week is going to be hell.  300 terms to memorize for one test, technical audio terms to memorize for another, and psychology theories to memorize for another.  My headache is getting bigger. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;b.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Blog editor, I didn't tell you to italicize, so don't italicize. GOSH.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. They're playing Dumb and Dumber on a 20' screen on the main quad.  Brie and I are making it a date.  Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels at their finest.  Here's to a night of Mary Swanson, owl killing, pretty birdy, and the world's most annoying sound :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*"Don't Forget to Remember Me" by Carrie Underwood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-8548778985761521682?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/8548778985761521682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=8548778985761521682&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/8548778985761521682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/8548778985761521682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/05/havent-been-here-in-long-time.html' title='haven&apos;t been here in a long time'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-2752171318650313425</id><published>2007-04-01T20:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-01T20:24:32.184-05:00</updated><title type='text'>if you can't dance in your underpants</title><content type='html'>(Then you don't stand a chance.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grown men dancing around in their underwear on stage is pretty much amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to graduate. I have 2 years. I'm close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forrest Gump is wonderful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-2752171318650313425?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/2752171318650313425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=2752171318650313425&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/2752171318650313425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/2752171318650313425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/04/if-you-cant-dance-in-your-underpants.html' title='if you can&apos;t dance in your underpants'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-4185649465221401549</id><published>2007-03-19T22:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T22:16:09.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tennesee january, everything ordinary you're unlike everything i've seen</title><content type='html'>Tennessee never fails to capture my heart. This road trip definitely makes the top 5 :) In case you are wondering what that list is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. July 2005 - Nashville, TN/Winston-Salem, NC&lt;br /&gt;2. August 2004 - Baltimore, MD/DC&lt;br /&gt;3. January 2007 - Boston, MA/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;SUCO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. April 2006 - Nashville, TN&lt;br /&gt;5. March 2007 - Atlanta, GA/Nashville, TN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonderful times, wonderful memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Milligan&lt;/span&gt; friends was wonderful. Seeing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Milligan&lt;/span&gt; was surreal. It was a strange, distant, yet familiar, planet. I knew all of the customs but not the new people. I still had the back roads memorized, but landmarks had been removed. It felt like I was going home after a long time away. And the best thing about this trip? (Besides Hawk Nelson) The feeling that no time has passed. It's been almost a year since I've seen these people and we picked up right where we left off. If anybody knows a better feeling than that, please, point me towards it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nashville was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;Atlanta was amazing, but I was antsy to get to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Milligan&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Chattanooga was pretty sweet. Wish I would have been able to see more of the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;JC&lt;/span&gt; was pretty much the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like being in a coma. I need to sleep. And bring on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;suffering&lt;/span&gt; that my friend Amanda has dubbed "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;PSBD&lt;/span&gt;." (Post Spring Break Depression) Bring it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;PSBD&lt;/span&gt;. I'm ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-4185649465221401549?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/4185649465221401549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=4185649465221401549&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/4185649465221401549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/4185649465221401549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/03/tennesee-january-everything-ordinary.html' title='tennesee january, everything ordinary you&apos;re unlike everything i&apos;ve seen'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-1609353035154807431</id><published>2007-03-04T14:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-04T14:41:59.808-06:00</updated><title type='text'>thank you helpy mchelperton</title><content type='html'>I feel like a kid again. I just finished watching &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ace &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ventura&lt;/span&gt;: When Nature Calls &lt;/span&gt;and now I'm listening to early 90's pop. It feels so wonderful :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met this incredible girl yesterday. She just started working at Papa Chicago's with me. She and I got to talking and discovered that we were both Christians. And hearing her story and love for Jesus and music and longing to go to Nashville, really helped me come to the conclusion that everybody you meet is not an accident. That everybody you come into contact with is worth something. She's coming here next year, I can't wait to see how this friendship develops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exactly one week until I am back in Tennessee. It's been almost a year since I've been there and seen these people. But if the trend keeps up like it was at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;PCTC&lt;/span&gt;, it will seem like no time has passed. I don't know what my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;initial&lt;/span&gt; reaction will be to be looking some of my best friends in the face again. I hope I don't cry, but I probably will. I know I'll laugh and scream. Shannon and I will probably do the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;girly&lt;/span&gt; jump up and down thing. Wes and I will hug our normal hug (only this time, it applies :) I can't wait for next Sunday! Everywhere I look this week, I'll see somebody from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Milligan&lt;/span&gt;, I know it. And that will drive me crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not one to normally give something up for Lent. I've thought about it years past, but I never committed. This year, I thought I'd try it. But instead of giving something up, I decided to read a chapter of the Bible each night.  Starting with Romans, I realized I started with one of the most depressing books. But I've found some treasures I can apply to my life: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Trust in God, Trust me. &lt;/span&gt;It's something that I've been desperately working on. I'm getting better and trusting God, and knowing that he's got things under control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've reached that point. I had a dream last night where I suddenly discovered that I had wings. But to me they looked like wings you could purchase at the local dollar store. But when I walked up to the balcony to jump, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hesitated&lt;/span&gt; once, then I thought to myself: "He's got you. You're okay," and then I jumped. And it was an incredible feeling, flying through this fantasy world I had created. Oh, and James Van Der &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Beek&lt;/span&gt; was there for some reason. But he's really not relevant to this dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is longer than I intended. But listening to Hanson gets me this way. Too bad they are going to be in Allentown tonight and I can't see them. I have to work. I don't think I feel like going anywhere tonight though, I'm not feeling like I'm missing anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am still a Hanson fan.&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong on that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-1609353035154807431?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/1609353035154807431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=1609353035154807431&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/1609353035154807431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/1609353035154807431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/03/thank-you-helpy-mchelperton.html' title='thank you helpy mchelperton'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-254603368038321142</id><published>2007-03-01T23:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-01T23:42:04.918-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Saved by the Bell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jonathan Steingard'/><title type='text'>today is not forever, tomorrow will come in time</title><content type='html'>Love to Jonathan Steingard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just talked to my best friend on the phone. 3000 miles sucks, and phone's cannot make up for that distance. But it's worth it to deal with it. I'll see him this summer :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 week from departure. I'm feeling it. Everyday seems to drag. As if everybody is coated with molasses.  Praise Jesus I only have 3 days of classes this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark Paul-Gossalear on SVU? Yes, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess this is one of those blogs that I kind of type and hope that something insightful or inspirational will flow from my fingers. But honestly, I just felt like posting and rambling. Because I don't seem to ramble enough to my friends...(okay, that's a lie.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you that don't know yet:&lt;br /&gt;My friend Matt Wertz, after three years of me listening to him and getting to know him, is finally in stores. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Everything in Between &lt;/span&gt;hit stores this past Tuesday. Mainly local music shops, but he is in both Borders and Barnes and Noble. I'm not gonna lie, I had some tears of joy. It's exciting watching a friend succeed. Upsetting yeah, but I do want the best for him :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only is Mark Paul-Gossalear is on SVU, he's playing a porn star....I wonder if his porn name is Zack Attack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I played with more buttons today in the studio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is basically my mind, random sentences and blurbs that kind of pop into existence. It's a way of getting things out. Plus, close friends read this. They understand :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where do you go when you're alone? The rain on your face, the wind and the cold. You smile cause you know, you're not far now. This is your escape and everyone knows that. California seems so far from where ever you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Bless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-254603368038321142?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/254603368038321142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=254603368038321142&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/254603368038321142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/254603368038321142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/03/today-is-not-forever-tomorrow-will-come.html' title='today is not forever, tomorrow will come in time'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-8172563879330614840</id><published>2007-02-26T12:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T13:00:49.752-06:00</updated><title type='text'>and we're still safe and sound</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I think about getting older and it excites me.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think about getting older and it terrifies me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every once and awhile I'll long for the days that I could just come home from school and sit and watch "The Game" on PBS and joke around with my dad and sister. When I had my own bedroom in the attic where I had my privacy and "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;NSync&lt;/span&gt; Sanctuary." Those were the days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I think about the limited knowledge and freedom I had. Having the ability and the courage to just pick up and go somewhere, I love that feeling. I treasure it. Knowing that I have somebody taking care of me and protecting me and watching out for me while I live my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm safe in his arms. I know I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Live life on the edge, you'll be safe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-8172563879330614840?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/8172563879330614840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=8172563879330614840&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/8172563879330614840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/8172563879330614840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/02/and-were-still-safe-and-sound.html' title='and we&apos;re still safe and sound'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-7126841472635184085</id><published>2007-02-22T12:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T12:29:41.672-06:00</updated><title type='text'>random people handing out cereal in the woods can't be safe</title><content type='html'>That was a Nature Valley commercial that was just on. Who would trust an old lady in the middle of a redwood forest giving out cereal? Honestly people, didn't you listen to your moms??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, remember that paper? Yeah, I get to class Wednesday night and I get about 2 weeks of homework piled on my desk in front of me and I kinda stare at my wonderfully attractive, yet short professor and kinda wanna shoot myself. I can't be sick anymore for that class. So, procrastination is not an option when it comes to this work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in the recording studio tonight. 2 hours of working with beautiful equipment and pushing lots and lots of buttons. I love my major.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad the freak weather is back. I missed being able to breathe when the wind blew in my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bika&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-7126841472635184085?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/7126841472635184085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=7126841472635184085&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/7126841472635184085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/7126841472635184085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/02/random-people-handing-out-cereal-in.html' title='random people handing out cereal in the woods can&apos;t be safe'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-4848727122663849115</id><published>2007-02-20T23:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-20T23:17:10.233-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i blame family force 5</title><content type='html'>They are the cause of my hoarse voice. But it was well worth it. It was weird without Lauren. Seeing as how she trained me in the ways of Family Force 5.  She is my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sensai&lt;/span&gt; and I am her Grasshopper. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's so wonderful about your best friend having their own house? You have your own house (but you don't pay rent :) It works for a place to sleep when you didn't shovel out your own parking space. Oh the joys of living in the Northeast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Scene it?  &lt;/span&gt;is one of the most violent, addictive games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a paper due tomorrow night that I have no clue what it's supposed to be about.  Something about advertisements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reflection:&lt;br /&gt;17 days until I'm back in Tennessee. Hopefully I don't become homesick for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Milligan&lt;/span&gt; (well, my friends at least, definitely NOT &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Milligan&lt;/span&gt;),  because I am not going back there. But I was thinking about next year and (yes, I can picture myself here next year, and graduating), but I feel like I should be moving on to another school. Like I should just school hop all over the country. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;That'd&lt;/span&gt; be nice. TN, PA...California next?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also would like to place blame on Family Force 5 for my lack of energy today. They sucked it out of me yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes are closing as I type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rest my case (and my eyes.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-4848727122663849115?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/4848727122663849115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=4848727122663849115&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/4848727122663849115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/4848727122663849115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-blame-family-force-5.html' title='i blame family force 5'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600566996790725490.post-9007241745638174304</id><published>2007-02-15T23:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T23:36:52.739-06:00</updated><title type='text'>this feeling won't go away, it's been knocking me sideways.</title><content type='html'>Restlessness. I have plans to go home this weekend. And it seems that Friday at 1:30 can not come any faster. I don't think it's really the desire to go home, it's more of a break from campus. From seeing the same thing day in and day out. Because honestly, I love where I go to school, but I'm one of those people that need to keep moving. (i.e. first weekend 2nd semester, I took a roadtrip to Boston)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lack of graduating in a day is also making me restless. Thinking about this summer, I just kind of want to be finished with school and be on with my life. It's cool and all, I'm just sick of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave Barnes is love. ( myspace.com/davebarnes )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Valentine's Day was on Wednesday. I got a snow day. As with the curse of all snowdays, I can't go back to sleep after hearing the announcement at 8AM. Blast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like this post was pointless, but I felt the need to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600566996790725490-9007241745638174304?l=thebikster08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/feeds/9007241745638174304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3600566996790725490&amp;postID=9007241745638174304&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/9007241745638174304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600566996790725490/posts/default/9007241745638174304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebikster08.blogspot.com/2007/02/this-feeling-wont-go-away-its-been.html' title='this feeling won&apos;t go away, it&apos;s been knocking me sideways.'/><author><name>bika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15342309784452704283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZbmbJWDY8A/TBZsBrDnIlI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-3BdY-z1uWs/S220/26190_511528656940_162900068_30467517_1409715_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
