<?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-5758325919670393907</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:28:24.722-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Compromise</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-7277720403319913140</id><published>2009-04-05T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T10:45:14.694-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soulmates. Soulmates?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Relationships...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I can even describe them. I don't understand them. They make people go a little crazy. All these emotions begin to surface; jealousy, guilt, love, happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're not truly happy, is it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I truly believe that happiness comes from within. Your divine happiness comes from YOU and only you. Anything that anyone ever says or does to you, it is how you respond to it that determines your emotion.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone always talks about how that person makes you so happy. What would you be without them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much work is too much? When is the right time to give up? To let it go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you have to even question that if you were with your "soulmate"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do they even exist...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-7277720403319913140?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/7277720403319913140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=7277720403319913140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/7277720403319913140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/7277720403319913140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2009/04/soulmates-soulmates.html' title='Soulmates. Soulmates?'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-6265312125787755800</id><published>2009-04-01T07:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T07:09:52.282-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best of Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: webdings;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I am excited.&lt;br /&gt;For Henrietta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-6265312125787755800?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/6265312125787755800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=6265312125787755800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6265312125787755800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6265312125787755800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2009/04/best-of-friends.html' title='The Best of Friends'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-7924102202239849560</id><published>2009-03-01T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T12:52:31.869-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Significant Others</title><content type='html'>Why do we have this desire to be with someone?&lt;br /&gt;A significant other.&lt;br /&gt;Why do I need to be with someone?&lt;br /&gt;Why has it become so important for people to find their significant others. I'm an individual, I am my own person. I don't need another person to complete me. I am me. Without anyone.&lt;br /&gt;"Do you have a boyfriend?"&lt;br /&gt;Don't look at me and pity me because I don't have someone. Just because I don't have a man in my life doesn't mean I'm lonely or I don't have anyone.&lt;br /&gt;I have people. I have important people in my life.&lt;br /&gt;I have the best people I could ever ask for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I think it was the Pussycat Dolls that told me&lt;br /&gt;"I don't needa man"&lt;br /&gt;And that's how I'm going to live, I don't need anyone.&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I wouldn't pass up an opportunity to spend the rest of my life with someone that I truly care about but I don't need to make it my life's mission to find that person or obsess over that person. I'm going to live MY life and a lack of a relationship is not going to change that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End of story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-7924102202239849560?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/7924102202239849560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=7924102202239849560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/7924102202239849560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/7924102202239849560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2009/03/significant-others.html' title='Significant Others'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-2316298044154400810</id><published>2009-02-21T10:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T10:39:59.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There will be an end, but you can be prepared</title><content type='html'>From 100 Simple Secrets of Happy People by David Niven&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#62&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the great sources of anxiety as we age is that we will never get a chance to do that thing we always wanted to do, or to finish that project we were working on years ago, or to mend the fences that may have fallen into disrepair as our relationships evolved. Don't wait until the end of your life to figure out what you wished you had done. Think of those things now and do them.&lt;br /&gt;Students often will procrastinate. Assign them a paper, with two months to do it, and many will literally wait until the last day, cramming through their readings, making notes, and then charging through the writing. Not a moment of this process is enjoyed. It is a manic effort, with little concern for quality. Students who write their papers in a timely fashion, anticipate what needs to be done, and do the work in an orderly process never feel out of control, and can even enjoy themselves.&lt;br /&gt;We live life like a student writing a paper- either as the procrastinator or the planner. The procrastinator feels out of control, and each passing year is a source of desperation. The planner finishes what needs to be done, and treats each passing year as a sign of accomplishment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-2316298044154400810?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/2316298044154400810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=2316298044154400810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/2316298044154400810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/2316298044154400810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2009/02/there-will-be-end-but-you-can-be.html' title='There will be an end, but you can be prepared'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-6792060581172178992</id><published>2009-02-21T08:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T08:46:53.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He's just not that into you...</title><content type='html'>So, everyone knows about the movie that came out last weekend. A woman learns how guys "work," and how all these "mixed signals" is just a guy saying that he's not interested. She learns that there people who are products of the rule and exceptions.&lt;br /&gt;How do you know whether you're the rule or the exception? Obviously because it was a chick flick, the main character ended up being the exception, big surprise. But we aren't all the exceptions in life. I dated someone a couple years ago and they broke my heart, multiple times. I know that he is a good person and so I held on, he asked me to wait and I did. I thought that this was the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I had faith that he would pull through; that he would turn around and sweep me off my feet.&lt;br /&gt;And somehow, I end up in the same situation. I have someone in my life that cares about me and is someone that I care very much about as well. Yet, we can't be together. Is this situation so different than the first? I keep telling myself it is, that we are meant to be together but if we were, wouldn't we be? Even though we are no longer together, I have this connection with him. We can spend time together and it's like we've never been apart. I can't even describe it.&lt;br /&gt;I trust him, which is a big deal, I trust very little.&lt;br /&gt;I don't trust a lot of people so is trusting him a huge mistake? And what am I trusting him with?&lt;br /&gt;The Compromise. It seems that I am getting nothing out of this compromise. I am the one worrying that I talk too much, that I am getting in the way of his life. I am the one concerned that I'm just going to get more hurt. And I think the only time I feel good about this situation is when I pretend to ignore it. Which is not right on any level.&lt;br /&gt;I think the only thing different about this situation is that I'm letting my heart break slower than before.&lt;br /&gt;I may not cry over him but it doesn't mean I'm not breaking inside.&lt;br /&gt;So, is he just not into me? I seriously do NOT understand guys. How can you say that you care so deeply about someone and that you don't want to see them hurt yet hurt them in the worst way possible.&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, I have no idea what to do. How can I care about someone so much that breaks my heart yet being with him makes me feel so incredibly happy?&lt;br /&gt;Is this love? Haha, something that makes you so happy and so sad at the same time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless, I'm going to live my life.  I'm going to spend time with the people I KNOW make me the exception; I know who truly loves me and that's what really matters.&lt;br /&gt;I know how to prioritize my life and although I won't forget about this moron, I won't dwell on him either because I love myself more than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never know if my blogs actually make sense or not, *shrug shoulders*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-6792060581172178992?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/6792060581172178992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=6792060581172178992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6792060581172178992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6792060581172178992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2009/02/hes-just-not-that-into-you.html' title='He&apos;s just not that into you...'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-4180185975305560421</id><published>2009-02-10T12:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T12:17:07.638-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mons</title><content type='html'>Money.&lt;br /&gt;5 letter word.&lt;br /&gt;I still can't comprehend how it causes so much stress in my life. Not only the fact that I don't have any but how it makes me feel when others do. I don't think jealous would be the word to describe. More like anger. No I'm not trying to say I'm a saint when it comes to managing my finances but I'm pretty responsible about it, I try my best not to spend it on things I really don't need. But it just makes me so angry when people aren't responsible about it or complain about the lack of when they've spent it well... Stupidly.&lt;br /&gt;Even though it is beyond my control, it just irks me that it seems some are just not grateful from the assistance that they receive in terms of finances. I'm not trying to turn this into a sob story about how my parents don't help me blah blah but, it just sucks that some people just don't appreciate the help that they do get. And maybe I'm being judgmental and maybe I don't understand that they really are grateful for the help they receive. But, I was taught that if I needed something, I bought it for myself and to use my own judgment for the things I wanted. Now, my parents helped me out with the odd thing if I didn't have the money but if I was buying things that weren't things I actually needed, there was no way they would pay for something I actually needed. And that taught me a valuable lessons about saving and spending.&lt;br /&gt;I think, in a way, I am envious of those who get that financial help. It gives me a little hope that my parents will pull through, even though when I call, they remind me of my frivolous spending that got me to asking them for help in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;And maybe this is just a lesson in itself... Maybe I have to experience doing this on my own and how it changes me as a person. Because I probably wouldn't be the same person as I am today if my parents had helped me more financially.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-4180185975305560421?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/4180185975305560421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=4180185975305560421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/4180185975305560421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/4180185975305560421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2009/02/mons.html' title='Mons'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-6544652941056622364</id><published>2009-01-07T07:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T08:10:35.169-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life</title><content type='html'>Firstly, it is slightly depressing that this "blogspot" website shows you how many followers you have for you blog. Sadly, I have one! Haha, but I don't really mind. I've had some issues with blogs lately, I find that people are using blogs to desperately attempt to force their messages upon other individuals. In my opinion (no one has to take me seriously, nor do they often), blogs are something for your own personal gain. It allows you to get what is on your chest... Off. It allows you to portray this message with the potential of someone else reading it, not necessarily agreeing with it, but listening and maybe gaining a different perspective. But mainly, I believe "blogging" is for your own mental health really. Writing and expressing your feelings, even if no one is listening, and in my case, my one follower;), this has been proven time and time again to be "therapeutic." So, I will say what I wanna say, when I wanna say it. And it doesn't bother me if anyone reads my message or gets something out of it because in the aspect of my life, I'm selfish, this is for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, like any other student, money has become a number one priority in my life. Unfortunately. I hate it when people complain about money and financial situations all the time and I'm afraid I have no choice but to be that person I hate. But, I hate that something bigger than me legitimately scares me.  And I hate that because I try so hard not make money a number one worrisome issue in my life. I believe that you can live a good life without drowning in money. But, it is just so frustrating when I work so hard, 20 hours a week hard, plus school, plus a life... And I'm still so far behind.  But then again, it's just who I am, I am not living in constant fear that I won't be able to afford rent or food (yet), but it worries me that my savings account is the lowest its been in a long time. I am the kind of person that saves ... A LOT. Haha, and to see that balance drop... To not have tuition money saved up, it IS scary. And then, it boggles my mind that a lot of students that I know, don't even have a job for part of the  year (which is what I have done for the past 2 years). And it makes me question my saving skills, am I really as good as I thought? I hate the way money makes me feel. I think I may go live in the woods with the animals... ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, something that has been bothering me for a while... And I don't even know how to start to get this off my chest. It has been something that I have pushed down and ignored for quite some time and yesterday, it just hit me like a brick wall. I won't go into the details but it has everything to do with respect. I truly believe that people have lost all respect for other people. I constantly see people treating other people like absolute garbage. And I am a true believer that you have to have respect for yourself and that you need to be selfish in the sense that you need to make yourself happy. But, what about all the other people you influence? Every single person in your life are influenced by your actions and your words. I have just started a class on lifespan development and just in the first lecture, we discussed how infants and children react in their early stages of development and how that development affects their later year. When development first was researched, it was a firm belief that development only occurred in the early years. But now, it seems that throughout your entire life, it is your experiences that contribute to your development. Your experiences with other people, the actions and words of other people and yourself is what motivates you to be the individual you are. Of course, there are maaany factors that contribute to who you are, not only what I've just mentioned. But... I personally think that it is important part of being a human being to treat others with respect. Even if their a complete asshole, why shouldn't you treat them with even a little bit of respect? They are only human. We are all in the same world, we are all on the same level. Who says any one person is better than another?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a little bit of respect can go a long way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I made sense, and maybe not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-6544652941056622364?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/6544652941056622364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=6544652941056622364' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6544652941056622364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6544652941056622364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2009/01/life.html' title='Life'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-3801800025328848143</id><published>2008-12-10T18:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T18:15:19.535-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Grand Return</title><content type='html'>So, I'm back. And I thank my two blogging friends for this, yet another motivation to write out useless information that no one reaaally cares about (you know I'm right).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last blog was extremely depressing as I read over it and Mary Alice would definitely call me emes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so pumped to write this blog, yet here I am, with a lack of thoughts. Maybe, I will return tomorrow and attempt blogging once more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-3801800025328848143?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/3801800025328848143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=3801800025328848143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/3801800025328848143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/3801800025328848143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2008/12/grand-return.html' title='A Grand Return'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-6829265086695464421</id><published>2008-09-14T14:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T14:24:19.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Black Tears</title><content type='html'>So cold?&lt;br /&gt;Every single time I see or think about you-&lt;br /&gt;My heart breaks&lt;br /&gt;And I can't deal with that&lt;br /&gt;I need to move on and&lt;br /&gt;I can't have daily reminders of you&lt;br /&gt;You are the one person I loved and&lt;br /&gt;I can't be with anyone without thinking about you&lt;br /&gt;You have no idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you get what you deserve. Nothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-6829265086695464421?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/6829265086695464421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=6829265086695464421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6829265086695464421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6829265086695464421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2008/09/black-tears.html' title='Black Tears'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-4327050956335835659</id><published>2008-09-03T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T20:09:11.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Youth Service- Sermon &amp; Prayer</title><content type='html'>(This is long... I apologize)&lt;br /&gt;So, Jenn, Kathleen and I all came together to do a service while our minister Sean was away on vacation. We all chose our favourite verse and explained and discussed how it related to our religious experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Theme Verse:&lt;br /&gt;1 Timothy 4:12&lt;br /&gt;Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young but set an example for the believers in speech in life, in love, in faith and in purity.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Sermon:&lt;br /&gt;1 Chorinthians 16:13&lt;br /&gt;“Be watchful, stand firm in your faith, be courageous, be strong.”&lt;br /&gt;This verse was printed on a rock given to me through Sunday School over eight years ago. That rock still remains on my bedside table and is read often. It has frown to represent my rock; my salvation and my beliefs. I know that this is not only influential toward myself but anyone who reads it. This verse stands out to me because when I was to receive my “rock”, I was not there so my mom accepted it on my behalf. Jennifer was also there and received a rock with a different verse. She tried to convince my mom to swap her rock with mine. My mom refused (Thanks Mom!). This verse was influential upon Jennifer’s beliefs as well, almost instantly. Hopefully, this verse will stick out in your mind as well.&lt;br /&gt;I find that this verse is helpful most when I feel alone- it helps me to remember that I am not- God is always with me. He is constantly by my side giving me the strength to be courageous and strong in any aspect of my life.&lt;br /&gt;“Stand firm in your faith.” While I am away at school, I live with five other students. One a Catholic, one an atheist, one an agnostic and two that have absolutely no idea (I apologize if this is incorrect, I was just trying to show the diversity among our religious beliefs, or nonreligious beliefs). It was such a challenge to debate with these intelligent individuals over the past two years yet also a joy. I began to understand their doubts, fears and their own beliefs. We discussed many aspects of religion such as death, the course of our lives, a higher power and whether our lives are pre-planned or if we created our own paths as we went along.&lt;br /&gt;“Be courageous, be strong.” This part of the verse has the strongest impact on my life. I believe that it means you not only have to be strong for yourself but, more importantly be strong for others. Others that are experiencing hardships, doubts, and fears. My best friend and housemate was put on Academic Suspension from Brock University this past May. This means that for one year she will not be a student there because her grades did not meet the requirements, by one percent. This young lady is incredibly intelligent, she worked so hard every single day in her studies. We were all so shocked and she began to ask “Why me?” Now, this may seem unimportant but to twenty-year-old students, where school and each other are our entire lives, it was the end of the world. So, I did the only thing I thought would help; I prayed. I prayed, not that she would get back into Brock but that she would get back into Brock but that she would keep her faith and be strong enough to deal with whatever was placed in front of her. I also encouraged her to pray and keep her own faith intact. She is now attending Niagara College in the fall and will be returning to Brock University in the following year. She didn’t give up.&lt;br /&gt;Now, another one of my roommates, Luisa is truly an inspiration to everyone she meets. She is the most optimistic individual I have ever met and she motivates me to be a better person everyday. Recently, her Uncle has taken a turn for the worst in his battle against cancer. When Luisa found out that he did not have much time left, she was devastated. And I remember telling her that even though I knew she didn’t believe in God that I would pray for her Uncle and her family. And she surprised me by saying that she had been and prays on a daily basis through meditation. Luisa told me that she believes that through meditation (and reiki?), you can cleanse your soul and that she didn’t know if it was God but believed there was someone up there. She continues to inspire me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Be watchful&lt;br /&gt;Stand firm in your faith&lt;br /&gt;Be courageous&lt;br /&gt;Be strong&lt;br /&gt;Let all that you do be done in love.”&lt;br /&gt;1 Chorinthians 16:13-14&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prayer: (Jenn found this on the internet and everyone, including myself, thought it was both hilarious and interesting)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Person: Our father, who…&lt;br /&gt;God: Yes?&lt;br /&gt;Person: Don’t interrupt me! I’m praying.&lt;br /&gt;God: But you called me.&lt;br /&gt;Person: Called you? I didn’t call you. I was praying. Our Father who art in heaven…&lt;br /&gt;God: There, you did it again.&lt;br /&gt;Person: Did what?&lt;br /&gt;God: Called me. You said, “Our Father who art in heaven.” Here I am. What’s on your mind?&lt;br /&gt;Person: But I didn’t mean anything by it. I was, you know, just saying my prayers for the day. I always say the Lord’s Prayer. It makes me feel good, sort of like getting a job done.&lt;br /&gt;God: Alright. Go on.&lt;br /&gt;Person: Hallowed be thy name…&lt;br /&gt;God: Hold it! What do you mean by that?&lt;br /&gt;Person: By what?&lt;br /&gt;God: By “hallowed be thy name?”&lt;br /&gt;Person: It means…It means… Good grief! How should I know what it means? It’s just part of the prayer. (Pause) By the way, what does it mean?&lt;br /&gt;God: It means honoured, holy, wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;Person: Ah, that makes sense. I never thought about what hallowed meant before. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;God: Do you really mean that?&lt;br /&gt;Person: Of course! Why not?&lt;br /&gt;God: What are you going to do about it?&lt;br /&gt;Person: Do? Nothing, I suppose. I just think it would be rather good if you got control of things down here the way you have up there.&lt;br /&gt;God: Have I got control of you?&lt;br /&gt;Person: Well, I go to church&lt;br /&gt;God: That isn’t what I asked you. What about that bad temper? You’ve really got a problem there you know!&lt;br /&gt;Person: Stop picking on me! I’m just as good as some of those hypocrites down at the church!&lt;br /&gt;God: Excuse me, but I thought you were praying for my will to be done? It that is to happen, it will have to start with the ones who are praying for it. Like you, for example.&lt;br /&gt;Person: Oh, alright! I guess I do have a few hang-ups. Now that you  mention it, I probably could name some others.&lt;br /&gt;God: So could I.&lt;br /&gt;Person: I haven’t thought about it much until not, but I really would like to cut out some of those things. I really would like to know how to be free.&lt;br /&gt;God: Good! Now we’re getting somewhere! We’ll work together, you and I. Some real victories can be won! I’m proud of you!&lt;br /&gt;Person: Look, Lord, I need to finish this up here. This is taking a lot longer than it usually does! Give us this day our daily bread.&lt;br /&gt;God: You need to cut out the bread you’re a little overweight as it is!&lt;br /&gt;Person: Hey! Wait a minute! What is this? Here I am doing my religious duty and all of a sudden you break in and remind me of all my faults.&lt;br /&gt;God: Praying is a dangerous thing. You could end up changed, you know. That’s what I’m trying to bring across to you. You called, and here I am. It’s too late to stop now. Keep on praying. I’m interested in the next part o your prayer. (Pause) Well, go on!&lt;br /&gt;Person: I’m scared to…&lt;br /&gt;God: Scared of what?&lt;br /&gt;Person: I know what you’ll say!&lt;br /&gt;God: Try me and see.&lt;br /&gt;Person: Forgive us our debts as we also have forgiven our debtors.&lt;br /&gt;God: What about Peter Brown?&lt;br /&gt;Person: See! I knew you would bring him up! Why, Lord he told lies about me, and she cheated me out of some money. I swear that I’ll get even with him.&lt;br /&gt;God: But your prayer. What about your prayer?&lt;br /&gt;Person: I didn’t man it.&lt;br /&gt;God: Well, at least you’re honest! But it’s not much fun carrying around that load of bitterness inside, is it?&lt;br /&gt;Person: No, but I’ll feel better as soon as I get even! Have I got some plans for old Peter!&lt;br /&gt;God: You won’t feel any better. You’ll feel worse. Revenge isn’t sweet. Think of how unhappy you really are. But I’ll change all that.&lt;br /&gt;Person: You will? How?&lt;br /&gt;God: Forgive Peter. Then I’ll forgive you. Then the hate and will be Peter’s problem and not your’s. You may lose money, but you will have settled your heart.&lt;br /&gt;Person: It doesn’t sound easy, but deep down, I know it would be worth the effort. Thank you, Lord, for helping me work through this. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory for ever and ever. AMEN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Obviously I played the part of God;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-4327050956335835659?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/4327050956335835659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=4327050956335835659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/4327050956335835659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/4327050956335835659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2008/09/youth-service-sermon-prayer.html' title='Youth Service- Sermon &amp; Prayer'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-1805715477209763189</id><published>2008-07-27T17:37:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T17:44:35.274-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Q: Foolishness or Stupidity? A: Both.</title><content type='html'>No matter how hard I try&lt;br /&gt;My tear stained cheeks give it all away&lt;br /&gt;Because whenever I am able to stop&lt;br /&gt;I think about you&lt;br /&gt;You and my love&lt;br /&gt;And not your's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that I am always trying so hard&lt;br /&gt;To keep the tears of frustration inside&lt;br /&gt;And to keep you nearby; with me&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid of what this will become&lt;br /&gt;That it is a long one way street&lt;br /&gt;A dead end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to give up&lt;br /&gt;Foolishness or stupidity?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know&lt;br /&gt;Whether this hope is empty or full&lt;br /&gt;I will wait foreveer for your love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love can make people so stupid sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;And foolish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beware all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-1805715477209763189?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/1805715477209763189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=1805715477209763189' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/1805715477209763189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/1805715477209763189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2008/07/q-foolishness-or-stupidity-both.html' title='Q: Foolishness or Stupidity? A: Both.'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-7305684768391461403</id><published>2008-07-13T17:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T17:22:53.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The blog that started it all, or the drama? (June 27th)</title><content type='html'>Drama. A five letter word that causes catastrophe. Everyone talking about everyone else. Behind other people’s backs and to their faces. People who can’t own up to what they say behind other people’s backs. Confrontation. Anyone responsible for drama cannot handle confrontation.&lt;br /&gt;I left high school 2 years ago. And I thought I was leaving the drama behind. But even throughout those 2 years of University, there were individuals still “stuck” in high school. Still so concerned about how everyone else played a role in their lives. People talking behind other people’s backs. People putting on an act so that you can gain friends or keep your friends.&lt;br /&gt;Even now, working among “adults”, it’s just the same. I was so surprised when it came about. Drama. Ugh, even the word is disgusting. People five, ten years older than me. I didn’t think it was possible, these are adults I’m working with?&lt;br /&gt;Then, what makes an individual an “adult”? It certainly isn’t their age, is it? Maturity? Does drama relate to age? I always believed that as I grew older or when I became an “adult”, that this juvenile drama would no longer exist.&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, age isn’t everything.&lt;br /&gt;And gender. Society tells us that females are susceptible to being more dramatic than males. But is this really true? From my experiences, males try harder to not be involved with the drama of everyday life. But by trying desperately hard, they get more involved than they realize.&lt;br /&gt;So what does anyone know about drama, really?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-7305684768391461403?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/7305684768391461403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=7305684768391461403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/7305684768391461403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/7305684768391461403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2008/07/blog-that-started-it-all-or-drama-june.html' title='The blog that started it all, or the drama? (June 27th)'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-9175176419958079354</id><published>2008-07-13T17:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T17:21:55.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Street With No Lights (Also July 2nd)</title><content type='html'>Tonight, I walked down a street. I was with many people but, there were no lights. If I was by myself, I would have been scared, ridiculously. And there is no doubt in my mind, I would have been running down that street. But I wasn’t alone. Yet, I didn’t feel safe either. I felt alone. How is it that I can be surrounded by people, some that I know care about me, yet feel so alone? A street with lights, is it any better than a street with none?&lt;br /&gt;A street with no lights, may as well spell out no hope. No lights, no help. Right now, I feel like I am constantly on streets in complete darkness. I don’t know what to say or how to help others in the dark. I just wish I knew the right things to say. I wish I knew what to do.&lt;br /&gt;Two major lights in my life just went out. The person I cared and poured my life into. And my best friend in the entire world, will no longer be my roommate, or so it seems. And in both cases, I have no choices, no options. No lights.&lt;br /&gt;So, what can we do? When we are in complete darkness, a lack of light?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will someone will please turn on the lights?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-9175176419958079354?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/9175176419958079354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=9175176419958079354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/9175176419958079354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/9175176419958079354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2008/07/street-with-no-lights-also-july-2nd.html' title='A Street With No Lights (Also July 2nd)'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-70038113229543296</id><published>2008-07-13T17:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T17:19:58.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moron (July 2nd)</title><content type='html'>I seriously don’t understand you. I don’t, I cannot figure out what is going through your head. How can you say you care so much about a person and then just break them. You say you can see yourself being with me for the rest of you life yet, here we are; apart. It doesn’t make any sense. I tried so hard! And what was the point, you had it in your head this entire time that this wasn’t going to work. You had it in your head that the long distance was going to affect our relationship and that it was just going to fail. Like all the others. But you say that you’ve never felt this way about anyone else, so couldn’t this relationship be the one that you should have faith in? Just a little hope. But you can’t, as soon as things got difficult, you gave up… And I just don’t understand it. Everyday I was apart from you, it just made me want to see you more. And the days I was with you, they were just so worth it. I treasured every second I had with you and I know that it was hard but every touch, every hug and every kiss was so worth the time apart. I wouldn’t have given that up for the world, and apparently it wasn’t good enough for you. And you giving up, is maybe a good thing that I found out now. Because I’m glad that when the times got tough, you didn’t quit on me when, oh you know, you actually loved me. Because, really, why am I this upset about a guy who doesn’t try, says he cares about me but doesn’t put forth the emotion, and doesn’t love me. Why do I care?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-70038113229543296?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/70038113229543296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=70038113229543296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/70038113229543296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/70038113229543296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2008/07/moron-july-2nd.html' title='Moron (July 2nd)'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-4549802755972567515</id><published>2008-07-13T17:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T17:17:54.351-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best of Friends (July 6th)</title><content type='html'>The best friend. What makes a best friend (or the best friend) more than just a friend? And really, what is friendship anyways? Someone you enjoy hanging out with? Someone you feel comfortable with? Someone you can tell your secrets to? Someone you can’t live without?&lt;br /&gt;          Recently, I have been thinking and there are people who think I am their friend. But they shouldn’t. To some of those people, I am a horrible friend. But why? Why do they try to keep our friendship? Because they think I’m a good friend? I don’t even know.&lt;br /&gt;          But there are some other people that I think that I have a dedicated friendship, one that goes both ways. And one of those, I think I am going to lose. Not lose entirely but the closeness will not be as close. If that makes any sense at all, this person showed me what true friendship really was. Honesty and loyalty. Not only that but she gave me advice to help me with every part of my life. She was with me when I was at my lowest low and she was definitely at my side when I couldn’t have been happier. This woman is such a huge part of my life and I just don’t understand why our friendship has to take such a difficult turn.&lt;br /&gt;          Sometimes I am at a loss for words with her; I want to tell her that everything will be okay. But do true friends lie to one another? I don’t think, I know I won’t be okay without her. Because she is my best friend. I want to tell her what the right thing to do is, give her the correct advice. Seeing as she has done the same for me so many times before.&lt;br /&gt;          But, I don’t have the words. I don’t have the words because this is my best friend; I don’t want to say the wrong things. I want to be completely supportive. That’s what best friends do.&lt;br /&gt;          So, all in all, I am going to do my best. Because that is what best friends do (as far as I’m concerned). I am going to love her and I am going to give her the best advice I can and support. I will, forever be her shoulder to cry on.&lt;br /&gt; Best friends. You may not be by my side but you will be in my heart and mind every single second, darlin’.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-4549802755972567515?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/4549802755972567515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=4549802755972567515' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/4549802755972567515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/4549802755972567515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2008/07/best-of-friends-july-6th.html' title='The Best of Friends (July 6th)'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-1335198765305521675</id><published>2008-07-13T17:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T17:10:14.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truth About Fate</title><content type='html'>So, here I am, cleaning the kitchen. So I decide to bring in my computer. I plug it in, turn on my itunes and set my screen saver to start almost instantly. My screensaver is a slideshow of all the pictures I have saved on my computer. So music is playing, I am contemplating life as I often do and… It starts; fate perhaps? The first two pictures that catch my eye are the ones that are of me and someone who I cared very deeply about. Someone who was my very best friend and a person that I actually dated for a little while. This person was someone I expected to be by my side for the rest of my life, whether it was as my best friend or something more. But, obviously, it turned for the worst and we could no longer call one another a friend. Just recently, we started “talking” if that’s what you want to call it. I feel like more of an annoying sibling or something along that line. Someone that you will talk to, but only if because you have to and only if I begin the conversation. Anyways, I have about a total of two pictures of this person on my computer. And what are the odds that they come up side by side on a random picture slideshow? What does that even mean, according to fate?&lt;br /&gt;Then, my most recent ex-boyfriend comes up on the screen. Now, this is just torture. It was just yesterday that I saw him for the first time since the breakup. He was standing on a street corner. (Haha, I know what you’re thinking, and that actually makes me feel a little better). And, just the picture of him back in my town… I no longer want to go there. I only go about three times a week, but, I don’t even want to go that small amount. I don’t want to see him. But why? Why don’t I want to see him? Because I’m afraid that he will suck me back in? That, even though, I have put my foot down and even though he broke my heart into a million pieces, I will just let him do it again?&lt;br /&gt;Oh, but it gets worse. Now it’s the music. A song comes on that I know too well. It is a song that a guy friend of mine that we have kind of termed as “our song.” I actually stared at my computer and felt a little like Izzie Stevens from Grey’s Anatomy saying, “seriously? Seriously?”&lt;br /&gt;So, all in all, I now know what fate really means. It doesn’t mean that just because a few pictures come up on your random slideshow and a song shuffled through your itunes (making you relive your past), doesn’t mean that you have to go down memory lane and see what your heart “truly desires.” It just means that I have Dell computer, which explains everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a new computer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-1335198765305521675?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/1335198765305521675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=1335198765305521675' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/1335198765305521675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/1335198765305521675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2008/07/truth-about-fate.html' title='The Truth About Fate'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-5145246924864377412</id><published>2008-01-21T08:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T08:57:09.537-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Year?</title><content type='html'>This new year&lt;br /&gt;Feels like last year.&lt;br /&gt;Some good things- Some bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's one of the good things... This is a message I got from my darling friend that I hadn't spoken to in a while yet she always knows just how to make me feel amazing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only fucking boy that ever loved me back was M.&lt;br /&gt;the only boy that i actually ever loved was M.&lt;br /&gt;i have kissed boys.&lt;br /&gt;and i have messed with boys.&lt;br /&gt;and i have given everything i had to them.&lt;br /&gt;and now, after being stupid and thinking things change.&lt;br /&gt;im back to where i started.&lt;br /&gt;i have started over a million times and accepted a million appoligizes.but never once have i been credited.&lt;br /&gt;I use to be the chick that guys loved to hang out with.and was the girl that had everyone over to party and swim.&lt;br /&gt;and now im the college girl.and until this week i was pissed that it had all gone up in flames.&lt;br /&gt;I dumped P for T.&lt;br /&gt;T dumped me for S.&lt;br /&gt;C dumped me cause of alcohal.&lt;br /&gt;I dumped J cause of M.&lt;br /&gt;M dumped me cause of her.&lt;br /&gt;and during all of this I met some great guys.&lt;br /&gt;and they met me.but nothing lasts forever.&lt;br /&gt;and W and me are over cause i care to much.&lt;br /&gt;and he is just *waiting for something better*and know what amanda...&lt;br /&gt;sometimes i actually am heartbroken beyond belief.&lt;br /&gt;but then something amazing happens...I wonder why???&lt;br /&gt;all the memories i can remember are small and erelavent.&lt;br /&gt;I cant remember the first kiss with any of these ppl.cant remember any dates?&lt;br /&gt;or anything.all i can remember is the most recent things that have happened.&lt;br /&gt;and that just proves to me that even though sometimes i feel alone,the things that made me happy, only lasted about a minute or two.&lt;br /&gt;The only things i can remember that actually have impacted my life are the things i have done with my friends.&lt;br /&gt;Those are the things that matter to me.&lt;br /&gt;A kiss is a kiss.&lt;br /&gt;and a boy is just a boy.&lt;br /&gt;but friends like us are forever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;smile little lady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there are bad things... Things you want to change. Things you are afraid of changing. One little move can make a world of difference. One word, two words, 3 words... Make all the difference. There are things that you thought would change, that you hoped would changed. You put all your faith in one person and ... they let you down.&lt;br /&gt;And there's nothing you can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So quit your resolution because everyone knows you're not going to keep them anyway. Watch out for your friends, know that you have the power to make them smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And watch out for the bad guys...And guys with receeding hairlines :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-5145246924864377412?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/5145246924864377412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=5145246924864377412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/5145246924864377412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/5145246924864377412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2008/01/new-year.html' title='A New Year?'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-8359835765557660343</id><published>2007-12-21T18:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T18:56:14.979-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Enough for a banana sandwich</title><content type='html'>Ya know, just grocery shopping before the big shopping extravanganza hits. At the grocery store, I picked up a bunch of bananas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanda: "Hey Dad, is one enough?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad: "No, grab 4 more"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Amanda picks up 4 more bunches of bananas*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Later at the checkout&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad: "Those aren't all our bananas"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanda: "Yes they are"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad: "I said 4 more bananas, not 4 more BUNCHES of bananas"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end result, my friends, 28 bananas. Oops.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-8359835765557660343?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/8359835765557660343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=8359835765557660343' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/8359835765557660343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/8359835765557660343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/12/enough-for-banana-sandwich.html' title='Enough for a banana sandwich'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-8738056024502547940</id><published>2007-12-06T19:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T19:30:02.748-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Separation</title><content type='html'>Okay- so we are all afraid of being alone. Whether you admit it or not, everyone has that feeling once in their lives. But for most of us, more than once.&lt;br /&gt;This is not personal but... I just do not understand why people have to be with their significant other every single day. I just do not understand. And it's not like I haven't been in love and wanted to see someone every single day but... I just didn't. To me, that is what marriage is for. Marriage means that person is your very best friend, your companion, is their for you, your support- 100%.&lt;br /&gt;But... if you're dating- I don't see the point. There are so many other things... and other people in your life. When I was with someone this past summer, I saw him all the time, he was 2 minutes away from my work. But, it was not everyday and trust me, I was at work everyday. I made sure that I was with my friends that I didn't get to see all the time. I can remember him getting upset that I went out with my friends when he had assumed that we would be hanging out... And, it just threw me off because... These are my friends.&lt;br /&gt;Right now- They are my 100%&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-8738056024502547940?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/8738056024502547940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=8738056024502547940' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/8738056024502547940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/8738056024502547940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/12/separation.html' title='Separation'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-4124351334847001927</id><published>2007-12-05T21:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T21:13:45.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Buddy"</title><content type='html'>There is no other person on this entire planet that frustrates me as much as you do.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, you are such an idiot... You are so rude to everyone. Me and my friends so as I delete you out of my life, you get all "sensitive". You're an ass to me, why would I want to talk to you?&lt;br /&gt;I'm not like all the other girls, I'm not going to just sit here and let you push me around. And it makes me laugh that you honestly thought that I would.&lt;br /&gt;I can't even believe that you got all defensive when I called irritating, you're still undecided about if you like me or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys are such idiots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S.H. (Thanks Gossip Girl)- Leave me alone "buddy". Oh and fuck you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-4124351334847001927?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/4124351334847001927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=4124351334847001927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/4124351334847001927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/4124351334847001927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/12/buddy.html' title='&quot;Buddy&quot;'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-2916511060302679284</id><published>2007-12-02T18:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T18:31:34.435-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A bunch of crap.</title><content type='html'>Couples... Right now I hate them.&lt;br /&gt;And maybe it's because I'm jealous&lt;br /&gt;And maybe not...&lt;br /&gt;But right now, I hate them.&lt;br /&gt;Or as Loosa would say, "dislike"&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why today but... I just don't think it's fair.&lt;br /&gt;There are people out there that are in love with each other and they deserve it. There are also people out there who think they love each other  but know that they don't. Yet, they stay together so that they won't be alone. And it's not fair, it's not fair because everyone deserves someone to be in love with.  There are so many people patiently waiting for the "right" person. And we will wait because we won't settle for anything less, we shouldn't. Yet you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not fair because time always wins. Time is going to win this race and we're all gunna lose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-2916511060302679284?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/2916511060302679284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=2916511060302679284' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/2916511060302679284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/2916511060302679284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/12/bunch-of-crap.html' title='A bunch of crap.'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-626843310492649326</id><published>2007-11-13T22:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T22:35:07.461-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Brain and Its Wonders...</title><content type='html'>Psychology.&lt;br /&gt;Learning about the brain.&lt;br /&gt;The communication within the brain, the neurons and all that stuff.&lt;br /&gt;It just made me wonder... All this brain talk made me think what is wrong with all the people in this world. Like... what's wrong with your brain that makes you act so stupid?&lt;br /&gt;Why would you put something in your body that could possibly kill you?&lt;br /&gt;Why would you push away the one thing that makes you happy?&lt;br /&gt;Why would you keep your feelings inside when someone makes you upset?&lt;br /&gt;Why do you say things you don't mean?&lt;br /&gt;What chemical inbalance in the brain causes people to act this way? A fucked up one most likely. I think that's what Mitterer has taught me.&lt;br /&gt;But, whatever the reason, it doesn't make any sense to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-626843310492649326?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/626843310492649326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=626843310492649326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/626843310492649326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/626843310492649326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/11/brain-and-its-wonders.html' title='The Brain and Its Wonders...'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-622184912721390346</id><published>2007-11-05T12:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T12:25:52.750-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Analyze.</title><content type='html'>Today is official Analyze Day.  Today is the day that you can overanalyze anything you want.  Today is the day that you are in another "zone", you are zoned right the fuck out.  You can just think about pointless crap all day long.&lt;br /&gt;I can think about boys... And how complicated this whole mess is.  I can think about the fact that maybe I just want to be with  you because there is no one else.  And then I think about the times that we had... and the fact that I would wait a million years for you.  I just don't want to make another mistake.&lt;br /&gt;I can overanalyze about the people around me, and their relationships.  I can think about how I just want you to be happy... And how I hate that you are miserable half of the time.  I wish I could fix it but I can't, only you can.&lt;br /&gt;I can think of my family... And how they don't hesitate to support each other during the hard times.  They can just drop their lives and be there when you need them. And so for that, you better pull through this because people need you. You have so much to live for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And because of today, I'm just gunna think, all day long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-622184912721390346?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/622184912721390346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=622184912721390346' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/622184912721390346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/622184912721390346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/11/just-analyze.html' title='Just Analyze.'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-6043017662853080258</id><published>2007-10-25T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T08:46:57.284-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I must be dreaming again"</title><content type='html'>I have these perceptions in my mind about how things will pan out.&lt;br /&gt;Except things never turn out the way I think they will.&lt;br /&gt;So, either my perceptions are wrong... Or the world.&lt;br /&gt;I vote the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always had a hard time expressing my feelings to people, that's just who I am.  I have a hard time telling people that they have hurt me or have really pissed me off. I can barely cry without laughing, just to ease the seriousness.&lt;br /&gt;So, my personal skills are lacking but... I don't understand how other people can be so oblivious to other people and how they feel.  I care a lot about the people that are close to me and to see them upset makes me upset as well.  And it hurts me because I can't fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could that I don't care about anyone.  But I can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might not ever tell you how much you pissed me off, I will probably just let it slide.  Maybe next time you hurt me, I'll let you know. Maybe not. But for now,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU HURT ME.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-6043017662853080258?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/6043017662853080258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=6043017662853080258' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6043017662853080258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6043017662853080258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-must-be-dreaming-again.html' title='&quot;I must be dreaming again&quot;'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-1106579998653733827</id><published>2007-10-22T19:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T19:46:02.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Puppy</title><content type='html'>Today, the Parker girls bought a bunny, a very handsome cuddly bunny:)&lt;br /&gt;I am sooo happy, I haven't been this happy in a while.&lt;br /&gt;Pets just haven't been working out for me that past year so I am so excited to have a new one:)&lt;br /&gt;He is brown and small and so so cute!&lt;br /&gt;We set up his cage today and he loves to slide around in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for the first time in a while, I love a boy&lt;br /&gt;A boy bunny!&lt;br /&gt;Haha stinky boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurray for bunnies! (named puppy!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-1106579998653733827?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/1106579998653733827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=1106579998653733827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/1106579998653733827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/1106579998653733827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/10/puppy.html' title='Puppy'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-2909740873798823497</id><published>2007-10-21T18:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-21T18:56:03.628-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Fuck You Jordan"</title><content type='html'>So, today I am Jordan. The fucking idiot. The idiot that thought everything could go back to the way things were. WRONG. I thought that I could apologize for being such an idiot and everything would be okay.  I would confess my love to you and we would be okay, we would be together again. I was so so wrong.  I know that it is different and I can tell that your feelings for me have changed, it's nothing like it was before.  But.. you won't say it, just let me go.  Don't drag it out because it's just gunna hurt more in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to say about your parents either.  I have no words for you.  I have no comforting phrases to express.  I don't know how to help you.  I know that I am going to disagree with you in this entire situation.. and I don't want to, I don't want to talk about it.  I'm afraid that we are going to fight and drift even further apart, if that's even possible.  I just don't want to lose you again.  But I think our time has already past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it breaks my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-2909740873798823497?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/2909740873798823497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=2909740873798823497' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/2909740873798823497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/2909740873798823497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/10/fuck-you-jordan.html' title='&quot;Fuck You Jordan&quot;'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-1660403264490119992</id><published>2007-10-19T07:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T07:44:21.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cellulars</title><content type='html'>Okay- so I totally understand how people cannot live without their cell phones. I understand that. But seriously, can you lay off it for like 2 fucking seconds?&lt;br /&gt;Here I am, just studying my heart away like every other person in this oh so lovely window building...&lt;br /&gt;Ring Ring Ring&lt;br /&gt;Okay- so someone gets a phone call, I can accept that.&lt;br /&gt;They hang up.&lt;br /&gt;Ring Ring Ring&lt;br /&gt;12 times. 12 times that this person's cell phone rang. 12 friggin times. 12?!&lt;br /&gt;Okay, maybe I would be able to tolerate this person if the conversations were actually important&lt;br /&gt;"Oh hey Sam, you're bored? Aaawww"&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE HELL?! Shut up- there are people trying to study while you are chit chatting (chat chitting?) with your buddy Sam, laughing your stupid head off.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to hear about your life so,&lt;br /&gt;Shut up.&lt;br /&gt;Omg- it just rang AGAIN! 13.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-1660403264490119992?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/1660403264490119992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=1660403264490119992' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/1660403264490119992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/1660403264490119992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/10/cellulars.html' title='Cellulars'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758325919670393907.post-6615478009262746179</id><published>2007-10-17T18:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T18:38:34.197-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Time</title><content type='html'>So, I would first like to thank Nelle for inspiring me to create my own blog. I would also like to thank you for posting a blog about how you love convincing me to go out on a Thursday night when I have class 9 am on Fridays. Thank you, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to have a blog and it was basically just me bitching about my life, so I deleted it eventually. But fuck that, I miss all my complaining. Just kidding, hopefully I will bring a little more insight and perhaps intelligence into my renewed blogging experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5758325919670393907-6615478009262746179?l=miss-dennis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/feeds/6615478009262746179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5758325919670393907&amp;postID=6615478009262746179' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6615478009262746179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5758325919670393907/posts/default/6615478009262746179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://miss-dennis.blogspot.com/2007/10/first-time.html' title='The First Time'/><author><name>Dennis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00394489741881388685</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_5pSa__Kb8TM/R1YyfFTq5_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/CvczFO4fF74/S220/Picture+188.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
