<?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-7710076</id><updated>2011-07-07T17:46:04.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Live from the Tragic Kingdom</title><subtitle type='html'>Wife of a Sailor</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>125</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-1284220722861011082</id><published>2009-01-10T22:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T22:32:39.405-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Books Read 2008</title><content type='html'>Books Read 2008!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tears of the Giraffe" Alexander McCall Smith&lt;br /&gt;"The Handmaid's Tale" Margaret Atwood&lt;br /&gt;"Holy Cow" Sarah McDonald&lt;br /&gt;"I Am A Soldier Too: The Jessica Lynch Story" Rick Braggs&lt;br /&gt;"Persepolis 1" Marjane Satrapi&lt;br /&gt;"Persepolis 2" Marjane Satrapi&lt;br /&gt;"Madras on Rainy Days" Samina Ali&lt;br /&gt;"The White Bone" Barbara Gowdry&lt;br /&gt;"Clear Light of Day" Anita Desai&lt;br /&gt;"Love, War, and Circuses" Eric Scigliano&lt;br /&gt;"Water for Elephants" Sara Gruen&lt;br /&gt;"Wild Sheep Chase" Haruki Murakami&lt;br /&gt;"Oryx &amp; Crake" Margaret Atwood&lt;br /&gt;"Women's Work: The First 20,000 Years, Women, Cloth, &amp; Society in Early Times" &lt;br /&gt;Elizabeth W. Barber&lt;br /&gt;"Son of the Circus" John Irving&lt;br /&gt;"Setting Free the Bears" John Irving&lt;br /&gt;"Guns, Germs, Steel: The Fates of Human Societies" Jared Diamond&lt;br /&gt;"Lizard" Banana Yoshimoto&lt;br /&gt;"Felaheen" Jon Courtenay Grimwood&lt;br /&gt;"Finding Moon" Tony Hillerman&lt;br /&gt;"The Camel &amp; the Wheel" Richard Bulliet&lt;br /&gt;"The Landscape of History" John Gaddis&lt;br /&gt;"Dog Lost" Ingrid Lee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-1284220722861011082?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/1284220722861011082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=1284220722861011082&amp;isPopup=true' title='38 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/1284220722861011082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/1284220722861011082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2009/01/books-read-2008.html' title='Books Read 2008'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>38</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-4612878280767350154</id><published>2009-01-10T22:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T22:19:52.032-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Books Read 2007</title><content type='html'>Books Read 2007&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Second Summer of the Sisterhood" Anne Brashares&lt;br /&gt;"Girls in Pants: The Third Summer of the Sisterhood" Anne Brashares&lt;br /&gt;"Snowflower and the Secret Fan" Lisa See&lt;br /&gt;"Saving Fish From Drowning" Amy Tan&lt;br /&gt;"From Baghdad, With Love" Jay Koppelman&lt;br /&gt;"Moloka'i" Alan Brennert&lt;br /&gt;"The House of Blue Mangoes" David Davidar&lt;br /&gt;"House of Sand and Fog" Andre Dubus III&lt;br /&gt;"The Far Pavilions" M.M Kaye&lt;br /&gt;"Special Topics in Calamity Physics" Marisha Pessl&lt;br /&gt;"Shanghai Baby" Wei Hui&lt;br /&gt;"A Rumor of War" Philip Caputo&lt;br /&gt;"Pashazade" Jon Courtenay Grimwood&lt;br /&gt;"Go Ask Malice" Robert Joseph Levy&lt;br /&gt;"Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Spark &amp; Burn" Diana Gallagher&lt;br /&gt;"The Toughest Indian in the World" Sherman Alexie&lt;br /&gt;"Harry Potter &amp; The Goblet of Fire" J.K. Rowling&lt;br /&gt;"Harry Potter &amp; The Order of the Phoenix" J.K. Rowling&lt;br /&gt;"Harry Potter &amp; The Half-Blood Prince" J.K. Rowling&lt;br /&gt;"Harry Potter &amp; The Deathly Hallows" J.K Rowling&lt;br /&gt;"Holes" Louis Sachar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-4612878280767350154?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/4612878280767350154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=4612878280767350154&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/4612878280767350154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/4612878280767350154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2009/01/books-read-2007.html' title='Books Read 2007'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-2258547499381654825</id><published>2007-05-17T22:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T22:53:49.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Snickers, RIP</title><content type='html'>My poor little hamster, just passed her first birthday, disappeared.  Two months later and still no sign.  She is presumed deceased. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest in Peace, my sweet.  I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxox&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-2258547499381654825?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/2258547499381654825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=2258547499381654825&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/2258547499381654825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/2258547499381654825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2007/05/snickers-rip.html' title='Snickers, RIP'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-2890469549877401345</id><published>2007-05-17T21:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T22:50:33.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Books Read 2006!!</title><content type='html'>1. &lt;em&gt;My War&lt;/em&gt;  Colby Buzzel&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;em&gt;Prodigal Summer&lt;/em&gt;  Barbara Kingsolver&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;em&gt;Jarhead&lt;/em&gt;  Anthony Swofford&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;em&gt;My Year of Meat&lt;/em&gt;  Ruth Ozeki&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;em&gt;Shopgirl&lt;/em&gt;  Steve Martin&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;em&gt;Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister&lt;/em&gt;  Gregory Maguire&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;em&gt;The Lone Ranger And Tonto Fistfight In Heaven&lt;/em&gt;  Sherman Alexie&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;em&gt;Reservation Blues&lt;/em&gt;  Sherman Alexie&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;em&gt;Ten Little Indians&lt;/em&gt;  Sherman Alexie&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;em&gt;One Hundred Million Hearts&lt;/em&gt; Kerri Sakamoto&lt;br /&gt;11. &lt;em&gt;A Bed of Red Flowers: In Search of My Afghanistan&lt;/em&gt;  Nelofer Pazira&lt;br /&gt;12. &lt;em&gt;The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants&lt;/em&gt;  Ann Brashares&lt;br /&gt;13. &lt;em&gt;A Canticle For Leibowitz&lt;/em&gt;  Walter Miller Jr.&lt;br /&gt;14. &lt;em&gt;Memoirs of a Geisha&lt;/em&gt;  Arthur Golden&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Far better than 2005's paltry showing!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxoxox&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-2890469549877401345?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/2890469549877401345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/2890469549877401345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2007/05/books-read-2006.html' title='Books Read 2006!!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-115758019318458690</id><published>2006-09-06T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T15:03:13.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chocolate Rules The World</title><content type='html'>From the San Francisco Chronicle.  I'm so moving to San Francisco..  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FOR THE LOVE OF CHOCOLATE &lt;br /&gt;Once again, Bay Area artisans are at the forefront of a confectionary renaissance&lt;br /&gt;Laura Compton, Chronicle Staff Writer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday, September 6, 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't feature a crazed assembly line, or vats of chocolate, but make no mistake: The Charles Chocolates facility in Emeryville is a chocolate factory. Trays of gorgeous chocolates entice from a worktable -- round lavender honey and Earl Grey truffles; rounded passion fruit and mojito hearts; orange twig truffles dusted with confectioners' sugar; and the piece de resistance, a dark chocolate box with a floral-printed white chocolate lid, filled with two kinds of caramels. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These decadent confections, from chocolatier Chuck Siegel, are typical of the offerings from the new wave of Bay Area artisan chocolatiers, who are making sophisticated products paired with eye-catching packaging. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We're very blessed here in the Bay Area," says Adam Smith of Fog City News, a San Francisco magazine shop that's also known for its selection of 200-plus premium chocolate items. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In my mind, really it's sort of ground zero for the chocolate movement in this country. So many exciting things are going on now with so many chocolatiers cropping up, and they're being so experimental, trying all these new ingredients and combinations." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A century after E. Guittard and Ghirardelli pioneered quality chocolate-making in San Francisco, with gold miners as their best customers, and a generation after Alice Medrich opened her Cocolat stores, and John Scharffenberger and Robert Steinberg started premium Scharffen Berger, these new chocolatiers are tapping into the region's passion for local, artisan products. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like Michael Recchiuti, who introduced extravagantly flavored artisan truffles in 1996, they make their gourmet chocolates by hand, using natural or organic ingredients and premium chocolate. Yet, the resulting confections are all different from one another in ways that reflect the personalities and backgrounds of their creators. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Certainly the Bay Area is very visionary when it comes to artisan chocolate," says Joan Steuer, who consults for big and small chocolate companies. "It paves the way for what's to come." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The sky's the limit,'' says Smith. "Whoever would have thought about putting dragon fruit into a chocolate bar?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oakland chocolatier Michael Mischer has. His line of 20 oversize criollo chocolate bars are studded with caramelized nibs, Montmorency cherries, roasted nuts and spicy mango. Mischer also fashions rich Belgian-style shell-molded truffles, which he sells at his stylish Grand Avenue store. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Sausalito, Stephanie Marcon makes enrobed ganaches that taste like banana splits, gingerbread and malted milk and other nostalgic flavors for her Coco-luxe line. San Franciscan Ariella Toeman's Cocoa Nuts marry her classic French training with her fondness for nuts in the form of dragees -- nuts roasted and caramelized, then dipped and coated in dark or milk chocolate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are by no means the only artisan chocolatiers around -- from Woodhouse Chocolates in St. Helena to Richard Donnelly in Santa Cruz, others are also making exquisite confections -- but their products are among the most visible. Grocers such as Whole Foods, Andronico's and Draeger's carry most of the lines, as do smaller specialty stores such as Bi-Rite Market and Gump's in San Francisco. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Changing tastes &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Americans spent $15.8 billion on chocolate confections last year, according to the Department of Commerce, up 3 percent from the year before. But tastes have deepened. Dark chocolate sales have increased by at least 15 percent over the past three years, says Lynn Bragg, president of the Chocolate Manufacturers Association, a trade association whose members account for 90 percent of U.S. cocoa production. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seduced by antioxidant claims and the explosion in offerings, more and more people are discovering premium chocolate, preferably with a high cacao percentage (see "The dark chocolate obsession," this page), and exploring its characteristics as they would a fine wine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within the dark chocolate category, trends such as sweet-salty and hot-spicy flavors and "single origin" cacao sources have taken hold, converting more connoisseurs every day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mass-market companies have taken notice: In the past six months, Dove, See's and Ghirardelli have all rolled out dark chocolate offerings, including Mars Inc., which is reintroducing its limited-edition dark M&amp;Ms. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hershey Co. thought tastes were changing enough to buy both truffle maker Joseph Schmidt and Scharffen Berger a year ago and start a new subsidiary, Artisan Confections Co. Hershey also has a new premium line called Cacao Reserve, and a single-origin line planned for December. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday indulgence &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"People are using chocolate in a different way. The price is less of a variable, and the quality is more important," Steuer says. She credits Starbucks with helping shift the perception of chocolate as a special occasion treat to an "experiential indulgence" of buying several truffles in the afternoon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We're spending $5 for coffee, and $5 for chocolate," she says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems consumers will pay for quality. That's what premium chocolate offers, from the couverture, a French term that refers to chocolate that is at least 32 percent cocoa butter, to natural ingredients, and no shelf life-extending additives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We order one week, they make it that week, we get the delivery within 3 to 4 days -- people realize it's the freshest it can be," says Ron De Leon, head buyer at Bi-Rite, which stocks a wide range of items from small chocolate companies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The greatest thing about artisan products is the story behind them," he continues. The chocolatiers "are so passionate about what they do. Everything they say, they make you want to eat every one of their chocolates." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With nine candymakers on staff and part-time help as needed, Siegel has the largest operation of the emerging chocolatiers. He just lured his friend Glen Ishikata from Scharffen Berger to be Charles Chocolates' vice president of operations, managing production and distribution. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charles Chocolates is Siegel's second candy company. In 1987, the self-taught chocolatier, then 25, founded Attivo Confections, which sold s'mores kits, among other things. He learned by "trial and error," he says. "Back then there weren't the educational opportunities that exist today." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sold Attivo in 1995, and worked at San Francisco financial services and technology companies but "always had my foot in the chocolate," he says, consulting formally and informally, and making chocolates for parties and events. His chocolate tempering machine lived in his kitchen until he started Charles Chocolates. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the sweet life &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, he realized that "as much fun as I had helping other people, I really missed making candy." He spent a few months developing a varied line of handmade artisanal products, got wife Shabana's seal of approval, and was up and running by Oct. 1, 2004. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charles Chocolate's distinctive packaging juxtaposes a loopy cursive logo and lines against primary colors and a brown background. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marcon, too, spent time in business world before going back to her pre-MBA idea of attending the Culinary Institute of America in St. Helena. The timing for the pastry chef program worked out so well that "I really think it was fate," she says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When I got out of culinary school, my favorite thing was chocolate. I like the way you have to work with it -- the scientific principles and temperature control." She spent six months working for Michael Recchiuti, then launched Coco-luxe in February, a year after leaving CIA. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marcon started experimenting with her favorite flavor, gingerbread. After looking at all kinds of recipes and playing around with percentages of cream and spices, she came up with a combination that tasted like spice cake: white chocolate ganache infused with spices and blended with molasses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowning touch is an illustration of a gingerbread man made with custom colored cocoa-butter transfer sheets. She uses El Rey's Venezuelan white chocolate, which blends cocoa butter with real vanilla and milk solids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her nine-piece box of dessert chocolates are square ganaches with colorful graphics that clue you in to what's inside -- banana split, devil's food and double cherry -- "the flavors that you remember as a kid, but more refined." Her afternoon chocolates are green tea, mocha and chai-flavored. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In each case, "I wanted good-quality chocolate that you want to eat every day." The square, striped boxes, labeled, "Nine chocolates to share -- or not," retail for around $18. She produces about 600 boxes a month; that number is rising as the chocolates are distributed to more Whole Foods stores. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;French influence &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toeman also trained as a pastry chef, at Paris' famed Le Cordon Bleu, then interned and worked at the pastry shop Fauchon. She was a pastry cook at Jean-Georges Vongerichten and Daniel Boulud's New York restaurants and had a wedding cake business in her hometown of Montreal before moving to San Francisco in 2003. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My background is Middle Eastern, and I like a lot of nuts, so I like the concept of the French praline almonds. Cocoa Nuts are a combination of my love of chocolate and love of nuts." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The confection is based on her grandmother's recipe. Toeman candies and roasts the almond until the outside shell caramelizes, then dips it in El Rey's Venezuelan chocolate. A dusting of cocoa powder and roasted, ground spices or espresso powder finishes it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The French names reflect her classic training; the first three were Noir, Lait and Epices -- dark chocolate, milk chocolate and a spice blend. She has since added others such as Aztec (featuring Hatch chile powder from New Mexico and cinnamon) and Framboise, a haunting raspberry flavor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toeman also produces six bars with these same flavors, and is introducing a new line of choclate bark called Cocoa Loco this fall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She designed the original packaging herself at Kinko's, though she has since had a professional designer revamp it. The clothing boutique Girlfriends on Union Street, Say Cheese and PlumpJack were among her first retail accounts. She's gone from a dozen stores her first year to almost 60 now, including Northern California's 25 Whole Foods stores. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Playing with flavors &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael Mischer, also a trained pastry chef, ran a pastry shop called Die Konditorei in Alameda during the '90s. He opened his store in 2004 on Oakland's Grand Avenue corridor. He puts in a 12-hour day, making chocolates in the back, then coming out to sell them from 5 to 10 p.m. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Some people come in every day and buy one piece -- that's their fix," he says. "A lot of people obviously buy it for gifts, or before a party." Still others buy chocolates to smuggle into the nearby Grand Lake Theatre. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The evocatively shaped truffles, and bagged gift items, such as chocolate-covered potato chips, are displayed on marble counters. Although these sumptuous truffles, marzipan potatoes and almond clusters are traditional, he likes to experiment with flavors, having created infusions with Calvados, the apple-flavored spirit, as well as tequila, in addition to more traditional fruit essences. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mischer used to make a pistachio truffle, but no one ever bought it. A jalapeno truffle "didn't work out," he says, but "chipotle works well," he says. "It has a smoky quality." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He started making bars last fall, at the request of his wife, Audrey. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm having fun with the bars," he says. "Right now I'm experimenting with sun-dried tomatoes and almonds on 65 percent bittersweet chocolate." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 20 bars line a dark-wood shelf offset by burnt orange walls; Mischer designed the clear plastic packaging himself to show the bar's contents, which are sprinkled on the underside. Milk chocolate with toffee and spicy mango with cayenne are big sellers. The bars are also carried at Draeger's, Fog City News, Sigona's Farmers Market and a few other stores. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mischer's couverture comes from South America's noble-grade criollo beans, sometimes called "flavor beans." Criollo makes up less than 5 percent of the world's cacao supply. The rest of his ingredients are as local as possible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although many people still think of chocolate as either milk or dark, and don't explore the other nuances. "They know when they have a good bar of chocolate," Mischer notes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Siegel believes this chocolate fever started with the availability of high-end chocolate. "I truly think one of the most influential things was Trader Joe's carrying Valrhona," he says of the French brand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Valrhona is arguably one of the best chocolate bars in the world, and hundreds of thousands of people have had it. Like any specialty food product, once you've had really good chocolate, you really appreciate the difference, and you don't like going back." Buying a premium chocolate bar is "not considered just an indulgence anymore, it's considered a chocolate bar choice," he says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Right now, I think we're really at the beginning of a great chocolate renaissance in the Bay Area." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consultant Steuer agrees. "Love and obsession with chocolate is not a fad. It's a trend that's here to stay." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;The dark chocolate obsession &lt;br /&gt;No chocolatier worth his or her couverture wants to discourage customers from eating chocolate. But there is one thing that puzzles them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why the obsession with percentages? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This 72 percent, 80 percent chocolate thing to me is such a crock," Chuck Siegel says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Every chocolate is different, and has wildly different ratios of cocoa butter to chocolate liquor." For instance, "Our 65 percent bittersweet chocolate has more chocolate liquor than most 72 percents." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cacao is simply the amount of cacao beans and cocoa butter by weight; the remainder refers to sugar and vanilla. But hype about the antioxidant properties of dark chocolate has taken hold in the public consciousness. Inevitably, perhaps, consumers think the darker the chocolate, the healthier it must be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chocolate consultant Joan Steuer says interest in dark chocolate may have been sparked by Starbucks and others popularizing dark-roast coffee. Since then, other flavors have become "mega and extreme, and bitterer, and stronger and spicier," she says, with dark chocolate gaining favor in the last five years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was never a big fan of putting a percentage on the label," says Michael Mischer, who makes and sells chocolates at his Grand Avenue store in Oakland. Yet he's also relented, labeling his bars: 38 percent (milk chocolate), 65 percent (bittersweet) and 72 percent (dark). Toeman notices the intense consumer interest in percentages at in-store demonstrations she sometimes gives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Seventy percent -- it's golden to them,'' she says. "For some reason, they think the higher the number, the better the chocolate." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steuer joked, "How high will it go? Ninety-nine percent?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toeman points out, "If you wanted to make a really good cup of coffee, you don't use more espresso, you use better beans." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Laura Compton &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;The chocolatiers &lt;br /&gt;Charles Chocolates. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Known for: Wide range of confections, including five bars, truffles and chocolate-covered almonds and hazelnuts, and citrus marzipan. Uses El Rey, E. Guittard and Cacao Barry chocolate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We recommend: French butter twig truffles, truffles, triple-coated chocolate almonds, caramels. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Available at: More than 300 stores, including Whole Foods, Bi-Rite, Gump's and Confetti le Chocolatier. Also online through www.charleschocolates.com (Bay Area residents get free shipping). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latest: Triple-Coated Chocolate Hazelnuts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coco-luxe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Known for: Bite-size ganaches with familiar flavors. Uses El Rey and E. Guittard chocolate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We recommend: Dessert collection (After Dinner Mint, Cherry and Devil's Food), Peanut Butter Bites. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Available at: Bi-Rite, Gump's, Whole Foods, Bittersweet or www.coco-luxe.com. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latest: Afternoon collection (the Blue Bottle mocha milk chocolate was our favorite). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cocoa Designs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Known for: Six flavor combinations used in classic dragees that are crunchy and not too sweet, and in bars. Uses El Rey and Valrhona chocolate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We recommend: Framboise Cocoa Nuts; also Noir, Azteque, Epices and Noisette bars. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Available at: More than 60 stores, including Bi-Rite, Whole Foods, Draeger's, Oakville Grocery, www.cocoadesigns.com. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latest: Tea-infused caramels and Cocoa Loco, four varieties of chocolate bark. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael Mischer Chocolates. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Known for: Elegant European-style truffles and chocolate bars with intriguing ingredients. Uses criollo chocolate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We recommend: Truffles, particularly lavender &amp; honey, Montmorency cherry, and caramel. Dragonfruit bar. (Below, pictured, are creme de coconut and champagne truffles) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Available at: 3352 Grand Ave. (at Elwood), Oakland; (510) 986-1822. Also at Fog City News, Chocolate Covered, Draeger's and Sigona's Farmers Market. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latest: Peanut butter cup and hot chipotle truffles, spicy almond bar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Where to get a fix &lt;br /&gt;Here are some of the places carrying the artisan chocolates mentioned: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bi-Rite. 3639 18th St. (near Guerrero), S.F.; (415) 241-9760. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bittersweet. 2123 Fillmore St. (at Sacramento), S.F.; (415) 346-8715. Also in Oakland at 5427 College Ave. (at Hudson); (510) 654-7159. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chocolate Covered. 3977 24th St. (at Noe), S.F.; (415) 641-8123. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CocoaBella Chocolates. 2102 Union St. (at Webster), S.F.; (415) 931-6213. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Draeger's. 324 First St. (at Main), Los Altos. (650) 948-4425. Also in Menlo Park and San Mateo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fog City News. 455 Market St. (at First Street), S.F.; (415) 543-7400. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigona's Farmers Market. Stanford Shopping Center, 180 El Camino (off Sand Hill Road), Palo Alto; (650) 329-1340. Also at 2345 Middlefield Road (near Woodside Road), Redwood City; (650) 368-6993. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whole Foods. Various Bay Area locations. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- L.C. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E-mail Laura Compton at lcompton@sfchronicle.com.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-115758019318458690?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/115758019318458690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=115758019318458690&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/115758019318458690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/115758019318458690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/09/chocolate-rules-world.html' title='Chocolate Rules The World'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-115597687506139279</id><published>2006-08-19T01:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-19T01:41:48.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another pet</title><content type='html'>&lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="250"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://petswf.bunnyherolabs.com/adopt/swf/hamster" width="250" height="300" quality="high" bgcolor="ffffff" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" flashvars="clr=0x6cde4c&amp;amp;cn=snickerdoodle&amp;amp;an=tragic" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;a href="http://bunnyherolabs.com/adopt/"&gt;adopt your own virtual pet!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-115597687506139279?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/115597687506139279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=115597687506139279&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/115597687506139279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/115597687506139279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/08/another-pet.html' title='Another pet'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-115597660153240211</id><published>2006-08-19T01:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-19T01:36:41.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh yeah.... I have a blog</title><content type='html'>Wow.  I've had this stupid thing for two years and ten days.  In honor of that milestone, here is a post commemorating nothing more than the recent music I've been listening to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Garbage "Bleed Like Me"&lt;br /&gt;2. Garbage "Bad Boyfriend"&lt;br /&gt;3. Bob Marley &amp; the Wailers "Dancing Shoes"&lt;br /&gt;4. No Doubt "Beauty Contest"&lt;br /&gt;5. The Distillers "Sick of it All"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxoxox&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-115597660153240211?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/115597660153240211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=115597660153240211&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/115597660153240211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/115597660153240211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/08/oh-yeah-i-have-blog.html' title='Oh yeah.... I have a blog'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114869183340804505</id><published>2006-05-26T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T10:51:52.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Congratulations to the Stefani-Rossdale Family</title><content type='html'>I just found this on the official No Doubt Forum:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kingston James McGregor Rossdale arrives&lt;br /&gt;FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE&lt;br /&gt;May 26, 2006 &lt;br /&gt;Los Angeles, CA &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale welcomed the arrival of Kingston James McGregor Rossdale, 7.5 lbs on May 26, 2006.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114869183340804505?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114869183340804505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114869183340804505&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114869183340804505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114869183340804505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/05/congratulations-to-stefani-rossdale.html' title='Congratulations to the Stefani-Rossdale Family'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114863320207031173</id><published>2006-05-26T01:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T01:46:42.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Dark Therapy" by Echobelly</title><content type='html'>Here are the lyrics to an album I've just re-discovered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;High above the roof tops,&lt;br /&gt;Higher than the milky way,&lt;br /&gt;Slipping through the hour glass,&lt;br /&gt;Shooting up the desert plain,&lt;br /&gt;You are one life older than before,&lt;br /&gt;But you cant stop the chill,&lt;br /&gt;Now youre falling in slow motion,&lt;br /&gt;Though the air is still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,&lt;br /&gt;Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are on the outside,&lt;br /&gt;Hands upon the window sill,&lt;br /&gt;I am on the inside,&lt;br /&gt;Carving up the hunters kill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,&lt;br /&gt;Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cruising on a missile,&lt;br /&gt;Cruising on a desert plain,&lt;br /&gt;Wading through a minefield,&lt;br /&gt;Wading through the monsoon rain,&lt;br /&gt;Surfing on an oilspill,&lt;br /&gt;Surfing on a perfect wave,&lt;br /&gt;Porn upon the airwaves,&lt;br /&gt;Rituals of the mating game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,&lt;br /&gt;Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114863320207031173?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114863320207031173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114863320207031173&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114863320207031173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114863320207031173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/05/dark-therapy-by-echobelly.html' title='&quot;Dark Therapy&quot; by Echobelly'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114699380426029270</id><published>2006-05-07T02:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T02:23:24.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Songs I need to hear NOW!</title><content type='html'>1. "The Blackest Years"  The Distillers&lt;br /&gt;2. "Poison" Alice Cooper&lt;br /&gt;3. "Cherry Bomb" Joan Jett&lt;br /&gt;4. "Beautiful" Snoop Dogg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get a job so I can buy more albums and expand our library!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxox Tragic Saturn&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114699380426029270?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114699380426029270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114699380426029270&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114699380426029270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114699380426029270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/05/songs-i-need-to-hear-now.html' title='Songs I need to hear NOW!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114655281257538226</id><published>2006-05-01T23:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T23:53:32.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Black Pearl</title><content type='html'>&lt;P&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;IMG alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/HPIM0454.jpg"&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;I told you he was the best husband ever!&amp;nbsp; Last week the fed-ex man came to my door bearing presents.&amp;nbsp; Sorry the photo is slightly out of focus.&amp;nbsp; You all know now who the photographer is in the family.&amp;nbsp; Anyhow, I was given a matching necklace, earrings, and ring.&amp;nbsp; In the picture, I am wearing the pearl ring with my great-grandmother's wedding band.&amp;nbsp; The wedding band was just sitting in my jewelry box after I inherited my great-grandmother's wedding jewelry.&amp;nbsp; So I figured why not get it resized (from 7 to 4); at least it wouldn't be collecting dust.&amp;nbsp;I'll try to take a better photo&amp;nbsp;tomorrow.&lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;I love you, Sean!&amp;nbsp; Watch out for those water balloons!&amp;nbsp; &lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;xoxoxo Tragic&lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114655281257538226?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114655281257538226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114655281257538226&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114655281257538226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114655281257538226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/05/black-pearl.html' title='The Black Pearl'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114655247323373848</id><published>2006-05-01T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T23:47:53.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Us, two days before deployment</title><content type='html'>&lt;P&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;IMG alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/HPIM0441.jpg"&gt;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;Here we are, the amazingly happy couple on one of our last nights together, a Saturday.&amp;nbsp; It's been longer than a month now since he's been gone.&amp;nbsp; One down, five to go.&amp;nbsp; He's spoiled me though because he calls everyday (mostly, unless there's a storm or something) and I get emails too.&amp;nbsp; How did I get so lucky to catch such a great husband?&amp;nbsp; &lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;We've been married for ten months now!&lt;BR&gt;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114655247323373848?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114655247323373848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114655247323373848&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114655247323373848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114655247323373848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/05/us-two-days-before-deployment.html' title='Us, two days before deployment'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114613130875419830</id><published>2006-04-27T01:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T02:48:48.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Quest</title><content type='html'>My husband readership may be aquainted with this particular quest.  The quest for the moped. My inlaws purchased a Thai moped during the family sojourn.  This decision was based on the ease of another import from Thailand made in the previous year, which was a bicycle.  However, the import of an unmotorised vehicle is quite different from the (attempted) import of a moped.  This became evident after two failed attempts to gain custody of said moped (the second just three days before my husband went to Iraq.)  After his deployment, I inherited this task.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One week after he left for Iraq, and I'd driven to San Jose we found out that the shipping company in possession of the moped was going to beging charging us rent for holding the thing (because it was taking up valuable space for other items which had recently arrived.)  Being the only member of the family unemployed, as well as the only member of the family with access to a large vehicle I decide to bear this particular cross.  After driving the Beetle to San Jo on March 27th, I found myself driving back to San Diego on April 5th.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I have never witnessed a monsoon in person, I'm fairly sure I have an excellent idea of what one may look like because, curiously enough on both March 27th and April 5th, violent rain and wind storms would ravage California.  Imagine that.  Still, driving a Beetle in a pounding rain (nay, monsoon!) through California's central valley is one thing.  Driving an empty cargo van through California's central valley is quite another.  My first taste of the vicious wind I will face is East bound on Highway 152.  The posted speed limit of 65 is wishful thinking, a joke.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course it got worse once I hit South bound Interstate 5.  Despite my best intentions, I do not get an early start on the drive.  I have to make a stop at my dad's office and pick up proof of insurance as well as a letter authorising me to operate the van.  I'm concerned that I will not make it to Inglewood before the company we hired to assist us in the importation closes.  I'm also concerned that if I run too late, the warehouse in Torrance will be closed as well.  Once again, the speed limit is a joke.  Even if the sky was not unleashing a torrent of rain down upon the unfortunate few who chose April 5th to drive to LA, I have to keep the speed down for economic reasons.  One other big difference between the van and the beetle is this:  the van is a gas pig.  It gets okay gas mileage for a behemoth, but at that particular point in April the per gallon price of 87 octane is about $3 a gallon.  This translates to an approximate cost of $85 to fill the tank completely up.  So I try to keep my speed between 55 and 60, which means I am stranded behind all the big rigs in the slow lane.  (As the more adventurous whiz by in the fast lane at estimated speeds of 90 miles an hour, despite billboards that warn "1,015 licenses taken here last year!".  A speed violation over 100mph is a felony.  Do not pass go, do NOT collect $200.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive worsens still as I reach the grapevine, which is the winding route of I-5 which climbs over the mountains at a peak elevation of 4,000 feet.  A blinking road sign is warning that "HIGH WIND ADVISORY: Big rigs, Trailers are not advised."  In fact, it is raining so hard and is so foggy that I can barely see the 5 feet of road in front of me.  I begin to worry that snow will be falling and that I will either have to purchase snow chains or rent a room just short of the summit and wait out the storm.  Happily, there was no snow falling that day.  That was the only break I got, the only thing that went right that day.  The distance from Bakersfield to LA is given as 110 miles, but it felt like twice that.  Instead of heading East on the highways tp avoid the rush hour LA traffic, I have to take 405, the San Diego freeway right into the belly of the beast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After locating the office in Inglewood, the people who eased the import of the moped into America I have to drive around the block to find a parking place big enough for the van.  I walk three blocks in the rain to pick up all of the official paperwork I will need, including a shipping list, and a packing list with the address of the final destination.  (The closest port to Paulden AZ is, apparently, Long Beach!)  My purse brimming with papers I make my way back to the van huddled under a violet umbrella.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first stop went so well that I was beginning to think the rest of my endeavour would be equally simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This assumption was completely incorrect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find my second stop in Torrance simple enough.  I exit the freeway on a completely random street and after making three left turns I find the street that I need.  I consider this to be a stroke of considerable luck.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After parking my van in the warehouse parking lot, I make my way through a tangle of big rigs which are backing up and pulling forward, nearly hitting one another in an attempt to get into the slips.  I stand in a drafty office while a secretary processed all of my paperwork behind what I assume was bullet proof glass.  She types away and informs me that I have to pay $100 before the moped will be released to me.  Cash.  I have exactly $50 on me, and the company does not take plastic.  It was 6pm and the warehouse was closing, so I trudged back to the van empty handed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The AAA California map indicates that Long Beach is 113 miles, or one hour and forty minutes to San Diego.  My empty hands and empty van are insult to injury, as it takes five hours at the neck-break speed of 15 mph to get to San Diego.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning a Wednesday I wake up late (again) and call my mother-in-law about the $100 fee.  She had tole me I wouldn't have to pay any money, but she authorises this fee and deposits the money into my account.  The van and I suffer through another commute up 405 back to Torrance, which took two hours.  I am confident because I am armed with $200 cash.  I am getting that moped or will die trying.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And once again I find myself standing in a drafty office, only this time I have about a dozen burly truckers to keep me company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can imagine my horror when I present all of my paperwork including a power-of-attorney (all official and stamped) only to be told that the moped will be released to me after I pay the $399 in cash which is owed to the shipping company.  The man in the office laughs in my face when I state that I only owe $99.  He seems incredulous that I do not have $400 in cash on my person.  Again I call my mother in law and inform her of the situation.  We are in so deep now that there is no turning back, and she deposits the amount I need into the bank account.  When I get to the ATM I learn that I have exceeded my withdrawal limit for the day, and can only take $150.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now have on my person $400 exactly.  After my paperwork is okayed and I fork over the $400, I am told to back into a slip between two big rigs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now have on my person exactly $1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my fan is considerably smaller than a big rig I am told to pull around back by a grove of palm trees.  The last piece of paperwork is signed by yours truly as the forklift approaches and the doors of the van are open.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first sight of the moped occurrs at this moped.  It is surrounded by a giant crate made of pallets.  The crate is too damn wide to fit in the back of the van.  Because the young guy in charge of the work crew recognises me from the day before he rides back to the main office to ask permission to remove the moped from the crate.  Permission is granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it will cost me $100 in cash (natch) to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sunk.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faced with the probability of having to try again on Thursday, I explain the situation to the young work crew.  "I drove down from San Jose to pick this up.... My husband is in Iraq... I have only $1."  The manager of the work crew translates my dillema into Espanol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I promise not to hold any of them responsibl;e should anything go wrong, four guys flip the crate on it's side while it is still on the forklift.  I crawl into the van to detach the spare tire from the left side of the vehicle.  Every millimeter counts.  Two guys crawl into the van but cannot stand up because of their height.  Two guys and a forklift stand on the outside pushing with all their strength while the other two guys are pulling with all they've got.  They have to pull in and up to make it over the wheel wells that jut up in the cargo area.  This takes about 45 minutes.  But finally the crate is IN!  I thank them profusely and feel bad that I don't have any thing to reward them with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took roughly three hours to get home.  But I was just happy to finally have that supid moped in my possession.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let this be a lesson to you.  Unless you like cutting through tons of red tape and spending lots of money, unless you want to deal with a business run by Tony Soprano or one of his close personal friends, never NEVER import a motor vehicle!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night and Good luck, Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114613130875419830?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114613130875419830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114613130875419830&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114613130875419830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114613130875419830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/04/quest.html' title='The Quest'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114612524359955520</id><published>2006-04-27T01:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T01:07:23.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Sh^t!</title><content type='html'>&lt;BR&gt;&lt;IMG alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/007_3A.jpg"&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114612524359955520?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114612524359955520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114612524359955520&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114612524359955520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114612524359955520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/04/holy-sht.html' title='Holy Sh^t!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114612519953848850</id><published>2006-04-27T01:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T01:06:40.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The quest for the moped</title><content type='html'>&lt;BR&gt;&lt;IMG alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/009_5A.jpg"&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114612519953848850?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114612519953848850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114612519953848850&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114612519953848850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114612519953848850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/04/quest-for-moped.html' title='The quest for the moped'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114481202761000779</id><published>2006-04-11T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T20:20:27.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My wonderfully amazing husband!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/1600/IMG_9017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/400/IMG_9017.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a photo of my husband and I when he re-enlisted back in October.  I was so sick that day!  (But my hair looks great!) And doesn't my husband look too handsome??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you Sean!  Thanks for calling when you can!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114481202761000779?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114481202761000779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114481202761000779&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114481202761000779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114481202761000779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-wonderfully-amazing-husband.html' title='My wonderfully amazing husband!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114470107811590703</id><published>2006-04-10T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T13:31:18.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Congratulations!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>YayY!  On April 6th Tom and Mieke Dumont welcomed their first child, a son.  According to People magazine, the whole family is having a blast with their son whom they named Ace.  Ace will join Mason (Adrian and Nina's son) as the second child to be welcomed into the No Doubt family.  But there's still one to go:  Gwen Stefani and husband Gavin Rossdale are still waiting to welcome their own child, who is expected in May or June (depending on the source.)   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, CONGRATULATIONS Tom and Mieke!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxox Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114470107811590703?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114470107811590703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114470107811590703&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114470107811590703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114470107811590703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/04/congratulations.html' title='Congratulations!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114291034310259870</id><published>2006-03-20T19:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T19:08:09.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My new Pet!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="250"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://petswf.bunnyherolabs.com/adopt/swf/pig" width="250" height="300" quality="high" bgcolor="ffffff" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" flashvars="clr=0xfd92e6&amp;amp;cn=polly&amp;amp;an=tragic" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;a href="http://bunnyherolabs.com/adopt/"&gt;adopt your own virtual pet!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114291034310259870?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114291034310259870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114291034310259870&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114291034310259870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114291034310259870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/03/my-new-pet_20.html' title='My new Pet!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114206179375123045</id><published>2006-03-10T23:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T23:23:27.213-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dodger's 12th birthday</title><content type='html'>This Valentine's day my doggie turned 12! Alas, I could not be there to help him celebrate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/1600/dodgers%2012th%20bday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/320/dodgers%2012th%20bday.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/1600/dodgers%2012th%20bday%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/320/dodgers%2012th%20bday%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cake, his favorite prey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114206179375123045?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114206179375123045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114206179375123045&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114206179375123045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114206179375123045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/03/dodgers-12th-birthday.html' title='Dodger&apos;s 12th birthday'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-114064843832704745</id><published>2006-02-22T14:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T14:47:18.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Visit to the Midway</title><content type='html'>Back before the New Year, my husband and I, and one other blogger (&lt;a href="http://fuzzilicious.blogspot.com/"&gt;Fuzzybear Lioness&lt;/a&gt;) made a visit to the Midway.  We had tried to visit once before, but my little Oldsmobile began to sputter, leaving us to coast off of I-5.  This slow death began around Memorial Day with a car full of passengers, when for no apparent reason, my car stalled in a parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our second visit to the Midway was made in the Beetle, and I'm pleased to say that the drive was breakdown free.  The only hitch was that I had a bad cold, complete with a cough and runny nose.  Due to a childhood accident when my nose was broken in three places (and never corrected) my sinuses don't always drain as they should.  It was a chilly, yet sunny day at the Embarcadero, and I found myself wishing I'd worn more layers.  As I was not feeling my best, here is my concise and almost clear recollection of that day.  If I hadn't felt so ill, I'm sure I would have enjoyed more of it since I'm such a history buff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flight deck was really cold as there was a strong wind that day.  Brr!  There were also some old-timers (volunteers) telling old war stories in front of different aircraft. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "museum level" complete with cafe and souvenir shop was also very chilly.  Although there were walls here, there were also many places that were open to the strong breeze.  'Brr, I could never live here' was my most dominant thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we followed the tour throughout the ship we passed through various other levels, where I found myself thinking one of the following at every turn:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-It's too cold, I could never live here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-It's too cramped in this section, I could never live here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-It's too hot in this section, I could never live here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-This part of the ship is too orange, I could never live here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxox  Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-114064843832704745?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/114064843832704745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=114064843832704745&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114064843832704745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/114064843832704745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/02/visit-to-midway.html' title='Visit to the Midway'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-113618575304115838</id><published>2006-01-01T22:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T23:09:13.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another New Year</title><content type='html'>Well, here we are... another new year.  2006!  Sheesh.  I have to admit that out of all the holidays, I hate New Years Eve the most.  I hate it more than Arbor Day, Columbus Day, or whatever other petty holiday you can think of.  (Columbus Day is just too polarising these days anyhow.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I just have a bad attitude, but more likely it's just past experiences.  New Years Eve, is generally about people getting completely drunk off their asses and making promises they have no intention of ever keeping.  ("I'm going to lose 15 pounds!," "I'm going to stop smoking," "I'm going to stop selling drugs.")  This is my problem with the whole stupid holiday.  In my own personal experience, New Years Eve marked, for five consecutive years, the most awful fights I ever had with my ex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our second New Years Eve together was 2000, the Millenium!  The potential end of the world, and one of the worst nights of my life.  I never really saw any reason to celebrate the New Year because every damn year was the same, at least in regards to the relationship.  What was there to celebrate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year, although with a new guy, I had strep throat, and spent the dreaded holiday in bed with a fever and almost unconscious.  But this year, even though I was sick, I didn't have a fever.  So I had to face my most unfavourite holiday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in bed and asleep by 11:30pm, missing the ball drop and all that craziness.  It's better that way anyhow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-113618575304115838?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/113618575304115838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=113618575304115838&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/113618575304115838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/113618575304115838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2006/01/another-new-year.html' title='Another New Year'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-113592206056187974</id><published>2005-12-29T21:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T21:54:20.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/1600/IMG_0306.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/400/IMG_0306.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;from Dodger, Tragic and Sean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-113592206056187974?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/113592206056187974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=113592206056187974&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/113592206056187974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/113592206056187974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-113583963519855185</id><published>2005-12-28T22:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T23:00:35.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Best TV shows you never watched...</title><content type='html'>I blame you.  Yes you!  You lazy people who never give exciting new TV shows a chance.  You know who you are.  You're the viewer who watches the latest remix of "Survivor", "American Idol", or (god help you) that really awful show where people eat worms and drink 100 year old eggnog to win money.  So I hold you responsible for the death of the following shows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dead Like Me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what Entertainment Weekly had to say about this promising show back in 2003:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;''Dead Like Me'' begins with a renegade toilet seat breaking free from the Mir space station and plummeting to earth, flattening aimless teen Georgia ''George'' Lass (Ellen Muth). Once dead, she finds direction via a grim reaper named Rube (''Chicago Hope'''s Mandy Patinkin, pictured with Muth), who talks George into spending her afterlife collecting souls. ''We facilitate their journey, wherever they're headed,'' says Patinkin, whose reaping team includes the bubbleheaded Betty (Rebecca Gayheart) and the rough-and-tumble Roxy (Jasmine Guy). Though George is initially sullen about her soul-trolling duties, is it really any surprise that death helps her, you know, appreciate life? ''I love the last line in the pilot,'' says Patinkin, who hasn't done series TV since he left ''Hope'' in 2000. ''George is sitting in the closet, looking at the young sister she never recognized in life, and says, 'I think for me, death was just a wake-up call.''' -- Lynette Rice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This show was a real gem.  It was a shame that it only ran for two seasons.  I really identified with the smart-ass Georgia and her struggle to become a grown up-- in life and in death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  &lt;strong&gt;Wonderfalls&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what Entertainment Weekly had to say about this show:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The pitch must have sounded preposterous: ''There's this girl, Jaye. She just graduated from Brown, returns home to Niagara Falls, moves into a trailer park, and gets a job at a souvenir shop. Animal figurines start commanding her to do God's work, which leads to a huge revelation about her estranged sister and an emergency tracheotomy. Oh, and we want a former Canadian child star for the lead.'' The funny thing is, Wonderfalls works -- due to the charismatic and soulful performance of Quebec native Caroline Dhavernas, 25, who has the potential to be Fox's biggest (and flightiest) heroine since Ally McBeal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EW What attracted you to the role?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CD I love that she has a philosophy degree and works in retail. It's different from what I had seen on television recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EW Well, how about that other sullen girl who takes orders from God on CBS?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CD Joan of Arcadia is much more dramatic, and it's quite different to talk to animals than the people she interacts with. Plus, Jaye doesn't want to help people. Helping people to her is disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EW Are you prepared if this show takes off?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CD I lived a little bit of it in Quebec -- we have our own little star system there. A show becomes really huge and no one else in the world hears about it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was another brilliant show that didn't even last a whole season.  It was cancelled, I believe after a mere 6 episodes.  You can order the complete first (alas, only) season through Amazon.com.  This show was just so far out, which I absolutely loved.  Again, what I really appreciated about the main character was her ennui:  a grafuate from Brown who is so disaffected she works at a souvenir shop in Niagara Falls.  One of my favourite episodes is "Karma Chameleon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;strong&gt;Firefly&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand."  Sweet Lord in Heaven, did I ever love this show.  Here's what EW had to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lordy, does Joss Whedon ever love to tell a story, spin a yarn, get off a good 'un. Along with David Chase (''The Sopranos'') and J.J. Abrams (''Alias''), Whedon does what too many feature filmmakers these days do not: entrance us with elaborate narratives in which small, precise details add up to a coherent philosophy -- a worldview.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In the new Firefly, Whedon's messages are: Learn to take care of yourself, because no one else is going to; and be stronger, smarter, faster than the next guy/gal, or he/she will get the drop on you. The show is Whedon's daring attempt to go where men have gone before all too often: to the frontier -- two frontiers, at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The notion of yoking the Western to science fiction isn't original. Michael Crichton did it 29 years ago in ''Westworld'' (remember Yul Brynner's robot gunslinger?), and while I never watched ''Star Trek,'' even I know there was at least one transporting-into-the-Old-West episode. But ''Firefly'' benefits enormously from Whedon's ability to take the clichés of any genre and give them a good, hard yank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This series is the brawling saga of Capt. Mal Reynolds (Nathan Fillion) and the crew of his ship, Serenity, on the run from a totalitarian, multiplanet regime called the Alliance. We're told that Reynolds and his rebels -- who call themselves Independents -- will accept ''any job, anywhere'' to keep fuel in their tank and food free-floating through their space capsule. This means, in the premiere, agreeing to thieve cargo for some brutish space goons led by a graying baddie with a vaguely European accent, of whom Mal says, ''He's not the first psycho to hire us, nor the last.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excellent: moral relativism, plus a crew member (Gina Torres) who blasts people with (I'm dating myself here, but so is ''Firefly'') a sawed-off shotgun just like the one that Steve McQueen used in the 1958-61 series ''Wanted: Dead or Alive.'' Add to that Mal taking a bowie knife in the shoulder in the first episode and self-consciously funny dialogue like ''Time for some thrilling heroics!'' -- and count me as being on board for this sucker. Grade: B+"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, this show also died a premature death.  It barely ran one whole season, but you can buy the complete DVD box set from any quality techie store.  Also, you can buy the big screen movie, "Serenity" that starts up after the cancellation of this unique 'verse I came to love so.  If you have never seen either, I recommend buying the DVD set of the tv episodes first and then the movie.  Trust me.  It's far better to see a story such as ths in chronological order.  (Unless your FOX network, in which case you will air the episodes out of order, and then only after the series is being cancelled, air the pilot episode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FOX TV: Where Great TV Goes To Die!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(off to bed)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxox Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-113583963519855185?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/113583963519855185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=113583963519855185&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/113583963519855185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/113583963519855185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/12/best-tv-shows-you-never-watched.html' title='Best TV shows you never watched...'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-113583757451302433</id><published>2005-12-28T22:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T23:22:38.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Books Read 2005</title><content type='html'>Well, the year is almost up. Every year, I tally up the books I have read and enter them in a list. I've been doing this since 1999, which probably makes me really obsessive compulsive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, Here's my (gasp!! very very short) list for 2005:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;em&gt;Reading Lolita In Tehran: A Memoir In Books&lt;/em&gt; by Azar Nafisi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;em&gt;Finding Serenity: Anti- Heroes, Lost Shepherds and Space Hookers in Joss Whedon's "Firefly"&lt;/em&gt; Edited by Jane Espenson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;em&gt;A Great and Terrible Beauty&lt;/em&gt; by Libba Bray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;em&gt;Witch Child &lt;/em&gt;by Celia Rees&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;em&gt;Maus II &lt;/em&gt;by Art Speigelman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;em&gt; Wicked&lt;/em&gt; by G. Maguire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hang my head in shame. 12 whole months and all I read were 6 books. Ack! What has happened to me??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxox Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-113583757451302433?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/113583757451302433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=113583757451302433&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/113583757451302433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/113583757451302433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/12/what-have-i-been-reading-lately.html' title='Books Read 2005'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-113497715555900992</id><published>2005-12-18T23:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-18T23:25:55.570-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday's Suck</title><content type='html'>Sundays are the worst day of the week.  Sunday evenings are the worst time of the week.  Because you know, you just know Monday morning is on the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the Great Dylan once said, "My weariness amazes me."  And so, I'm off to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Holidays,&lt;br /&gt;love, Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-113497715555900992?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/113497715555900992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=113497715555900992&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/113497715555900992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/113497715555900992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/12/sundays-suck.html' title='Sunday&apos;s Suck'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-112926985700555228</id><published>2005-10-13T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T23:04:17.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Germs suck!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;arghhhhhhhhhhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Sick again!  About three weeks ago, I got permission from my boss to take October 14th and 17th off.   (Yes, Tragic is a working girl now.)  My plan?  To fly back to good ol' San Jose and visit with the family (and of course mi perro, Dodger.)  My dad and I, Firefly fans from way back, wanted to go see "Serenity" together.  Although I always miss my husband when we are separated, I also had a case of home-sickness.  I hadn't seen my family or SJ friends since right after the wedding.  Of course I missed Pizza Fresh (The B*E*S*T pizza in the entire world) and Hukilau and Tsuguru.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;My sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and little nephew are visiting from Arizona, so Sean and I have been quite busy lately.  There was a haunted house, haunted hay-ride, 3-d maze, street festivals, and so forth.  Last Saturday we went to the Pacific Beach Street Faire, which was very cool.  (also literally, as there was much fog.)  My sweetie bought me a ring with a heart shaped amber stone.  I bought myself two Chinese-themed parasols which I love.  To tell you the truth, the whole inspiration came from a scene right out of "Serenity", the very first two-hour episode.  (This was supposed to be the pilot, but FOX executives, showing off their usual stellar stupidity, decided to air the pilot episode last-- after the show had already been cancelled.)  There is a scene at the Eavesdown docks where Kaylee twirls a beautiful parasol behind her.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Anyhow, after all this, my poor husband started to feel ill on Tuesday.  And then, despite our best efforts, I fell ill yesterday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Tragic needs sleep, to be continued.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;x0x0x0x0  Tragic Tuyen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;PS.  I miss you and love you more than you will ever know, my husband  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-112926985700555228?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/112926985700555228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=112926985700555228&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/112926985700555228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/112926985700555228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/10/germs-suck.html' title='Germs suck!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-112364752700023073</id><published>2005-08-09T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-09T21:18:47.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey you with the wedding dress on, With the white chiffon blowin' in the wind...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/1600/IMG_7754.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/320/IMG_7754.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've returned form my blogging vacation. The past month or so has been crazy-busy for me. Along with unpacking all of my belongings in San Diego, I also had to contend with the last few details of the wedding. After waiting almost too long, I placed the order for both wedding flowers and wedding cake. I'd say 95% of my wedding stress was caused by a really mean bridesmaid of mine, whom I actually ended up relieving of her duties. (I'll write more about this later.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wedding was beautiful! I couldn't have asked for a better wedding. Everything went perfect (there was only ene tiny glitch in the music.) I just wish my grandfather and my best friend, Dodger could have attended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, by the way, my mom has started up a new website called: &lt;a href="http://shadesofgreen.fotopages.com"&gt;http://shadesofgreen.fotopages.com&lt;/a&gt;. You should check it out. ; )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxo Tragic Saturn (brand new wife.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/1600/IMG_6990.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/320/IMG_6990.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-112364752700023073?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/112364752700023073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=112364752700023073&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/112364752700023073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/112364752700023073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/08/hey-you-with-wedding-dress-on-with.html' title='Hey you with the wedding dress on, With the white chiffon blowin&apos; in the wind...'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-112025990587061725</id><published>2005-07-01T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-01T16:18:25.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sandbox Pin Up Challange Pic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/1600/heather%20blacks%20wp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/614/488/320/heather%20blacks%20wp.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://punkrockmommy.blogspot.com/2005/06/sand-box-challange.html"&gt;Punk Rock Momm&lt;/a&gt;y has put together a Sandbox Pin Up challange for female bloggers and here's mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XOXOXO&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-112025990587061725?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/112025990587061725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/112025990587061725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/07/sandbox-pin-up-challange-pic.html' title='Sandbox Pin Up Challange Pic'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111995195902606683</id><published>2005-06-27T23:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T02:45:59.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire Is Rarely A Sign Of Imminent Safety</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;After my stay in San Diego, it was time for me to drive back to good ol' San Jo.  It was Saturday, June 4th.  I'd been back in town to move as well as to take a marriage prep class with a few other couples and the Chaplain.  Friday afternoon was spent on the beach, taking it easy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Saturday I was headed home to doggie sit, since my dad would be out of town.  That morning I woke up with a terrible kink in my right shoulder.  After breakfast in bed and a hot shower, there was no improvement.  I had to get going anyway.  It was already 1pm, and if I waited any longer, I'd be getting home at 11pm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sadly waved goodbye to my fiance and climbed into my dad's behemoth of a van.  After filling up the gas tank and buying some sunglasses (I'd lost my previous pair) I hit the open road.  Although I had horrible visions of terrible Los Angeles traffic, the situation wasn't that bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to mix tapes, I quickly zipped from La Mirada to the Grapevine.  The radiator and all the other important parts ran wonderfully going up the mountains, although I did shift down one gear.  Soon, I was cruising up the fruited plains of I-5, blaring the tape player.  Earlier in the day, I'd taken a naproxen to end my hideous pain, and it was actually working.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Feeling still unfamiliar with the van, I decided not to take any chances.  I pulled off the freeway at Harris Ranch (Coalinga) and refueled.  Not wanting to stop again for more gas, I decide to top off the tank.  I went into the snack shop to see if they had any postcards, which they didn't.  I'm so used to my sedan that I was shocked, SHOCKED, to return to the van to see it had taken $56 worth of gas!  I climbed back up into the drivers seat, turned the key, and merged back onto the freeway.  In the distance, I saw some smoke, but it was way off on the left side of the freeway, so I wasn't worried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I had so few audio tapes for this trip, I'd turned off the tape deck.  As I drove down the highway, I could hear the wind pick up a bit.  Being in such an unaerodynamic vehicle, I also begin to feel the wind batter the van, ever so gently.  The smoke in the distance created a beautiful, if not slighty foreboding effect as the sun set.  The sunset, bright sunflower yellow where the smoke had not drifted across, soon became a magnificent, menacing volcanic orange.  'If Sean were here,' I thought with a smile 'he'd be snapping away with his digicam.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about ten minutes or so, some smoke began to blow my way, but I wasn't really worried about it.  The wind was just blowing the smoke from a distant fire in my direction, I figured.  Nothing to worry about.  Another few minutes went by, but I was still unconcerned even as heavier smoke blew my way.  (Yet not enough smoke to hamper my vision.)  As I drove on, I made out a strange shape in the distance.  I was in the fast lane, or number one lane, and I could swear I something coming towards me.  A few seconds went by and I changed lanes just in time to see a newish sedan speed by in the &lt;em&gt;wrong direction&lt;/em&gt;.  True, the driver had the hazard lights on but I-5 is a major artery from the Bay Area to Los Angeles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Holy Crap!  What's up with that?' I thought to myself as the car sped along, southbound in the northbound lanes.  I refocused my attention on the highway ahead of me, still wandering about the previous aberation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About five minutes ticked by as I drove on in silence.  Then, the smoke became heavy.  The light gray smoke which could have been coming from some one's chimney gave way to thick, slate coloured clouds.  I gently applied the brakes and turned on the headlights.  I could make out the headlights of the car in front of me, for a little while. Once again, the wind picked up.  I quickly sped up, and after about twenty dreadful seconds, the blue sky appeared above me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My relief, however, was short lived. Gusts of smoke battered the driver's side of the van, and caused me to slow down even more.  By this time, the red tale lights of the little Japanese car which had been in front of me are gone.  I quickly checked my rear view mirror and noticed that there were no cars behind me. In need of advice, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed my fiance.  Surely he'd have an idea or two.  Having finally memorised his number, I punch in his number, only to get his voice mail.  'Crap,' I thought.  With my mind starting to shift into overdrive, I started to leave a very disjointed message. I tried my very hardest not to cry as I talked into his voice mail.  The same thought kept recurring to me... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was alone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At precisely 7:28:54pm, I place a call to 911.  Up until that moment in my life, I fortunately have never had to dial that number.  (Even with all the car accidents I've been in.)  So you can imagine my surprise when the phone on the other end rings 3, 5, and finally 10 times before I hear a recorded message.  My sarcasm begins to kick in, 'What if a crazed gunman was chasing me?'  10 rings is an awful long time to wait.  First in English, then in Spanish, that my call will be recorded and that I need to relay my approximate whereabouts.  Finally, the operator picked up and asked me to explain the nature of my emergency.  As I told her the nature of my problem, and relayed my location, she replied "Yes, we've had several calls of a huge wild fire in that area.  The fire department is on their way.  I'm almost certain she asked if I could see any flames and at that particular moment, I could not.  So she told me to be careful and that was the end of our call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this point in time, I couldn't see anything.  Blackness descended, as if someone had blind- folded me.  I turned in my hazard lights and pulled off to the right hand shoulder.  I didn't exactly know what to do, it didn't seem wise to keep going down the highway when I couldn't see anything.  As I sat on the side of the road, I heard a '&lt;em&gt;Woosh'&lt;/em&gt;  sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned my head to the left and saw a wall of bright orange.  Given the apparent choice of driving into the unknown, or having a full tank of fuel come into contact with a wild fire, I picked the first option.  As fast as my fingers could do so, I turn the key in the ignition, and shift into drive.  My right foot punched the gas pedal, hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I forcefully applied the gas pedal, I could hear the whine of the engine.  (A V-8 engine, but one, nevertheless, with 153,000 miles on it.)  In front of me, blackness is punctuated by bright orange swirls.  The temperature begins to rise.  It feels like I've got the heater on maximum.  Sweat drips  down my forehead into my eyes.  I can hear the air screaming through the wings in front of the wind-down windows.  Soon enough, noxious smoke begans to pour in.  That's about the point when I started to cough.  I felt a tightness in my chest.  The wind still battered against me.  It seemed like I was in a vortex.  Driving in a straight line became a challenge, and the overall effect was that I was a barreling down the center of both lanes.  Bright orange flashes flickered in my peripheral vision and sweat stung my eyes.  I hoped with all my being there were no cars stopped in front of me, because the spedometer was maxed out at 85, with the needle actually hovering past the last numbers on the gauge.  I started to cough more and thought 'This might be &lt;em&gt;it&lt;/em&gt;.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny how fast your brain can work sometimes.  In the amount of time it took to have the aforementioned thought, I remembered what it felt like to have a laser treatment.  I remembered the pain, the heat of the last treatment I had.  The throbbing.  The burning. The blistering.  And that was only half an arm.  With all the force I could muster, I pushed down on that gas pedal.  Hoping it would help the van carry me from painful wounds or a horrible, exploding death.  Smoke is coming through the vents even though I don't have the climate control on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After one last bright flash of neon orange, the smoke eased up a bit.  I could make out traffic ahead of me and quickly slowed down and pulled into the slow lane.  Traffic ahead of me was stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was about the time that Sean called me.  Despite my best efforts, I start to cry, through my coughs, as we talk on the phone.  Just as I thought he would, he gives me advice.  Since I'm idling on the freeway with a fire nearby, he tells me to turn off the engine.  As I talk to him, cars start speeding up the shoulders on both sides as the fire edges towards us in the median.  A U-Haul truck blazes by me on the right hand shoulder, probably going about 80 miles per hour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I talk to Sean, there is still no sign of any fire department trucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I see one truck edging towards us in the median. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever so slowly, traffic begins edging forward.  Sean and I say good bye.  Those of us who have made it through the fire storm form a sort of convoy.  We start of slowly at first, wary of smoke and flames.  But after a while, the smoke is behind us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I count my lucky stars, and, as traffic speeds up, I put a No Doubt tape into the deck.  While I try to relax again, the pain in my shoulder comes back.  It feels like barbed wire had unspooled in my shoulder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.  At least I didn't burn to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Tragic Saturn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(For a different version of this story, read the archives of Doc in the Box.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111995195902606683?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111995195902606683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111995195902606683&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111995195902606683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111995195902606683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/06/fire-is-rarely-sign-of-imminent-safety.html' title='Fire Is Rarely A Sign Of Imminent Safety'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111839199472495943</id><published>2005-06-09T23:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T01:28:01.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Very Long Drive (With The Man I Love)</title><content type='html'>With the van being all packed, Sean and I set out to San Diego from San Jose. Sean took the first turn behind the wheel as we headed south on that Tuesday morning. We stopped for breakfast at the world famous Casa de Fruta (&lt;a href="http://www.casadefruta.com/VISIT_restaurant.html"&gt;http://www.casadefruta.com/VISIT_restaurant.html&lt;/a&gt;). I ordered the Bacon, Avocad0, and Cheese omelette, while Sean ordered Fish 'n' Chips. The waitress was super nice, she brought me so many water refills, I lost count. Unfortunately, the "cup flipper" has long since retired. Many moons ago, on a senior tour bus trip, my grandparents saw his act and told me about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casa de Fruta is about 12 miles from my mom's house in Hollister. I sent some goodies from the fruit stand in a package to some army aviators, via Books For Soldiers. I still write to one of those guys-- he's happily married to a wonderful woman with two adorable kids. He's in paradise, literally-- when he got back from Iraq he was transferred to Hawaii! (Maybe Sean and I will party crash and stay with them if we go there on our honeymoon!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After our breakfast, we hit the fruit stand and bought some dried pineapple. That's my favourite. How can anyone say "no" to that super sweetness? (And if you can, I ask, what's wrong with you?) On our drive down, I played DJ. My dad's van has no cd player. We have a CD/ tape adaptor that we use in his car, but the van is just too noisy that we wouldn't have been able to hear it. I've never seen the van so full! It was practically stacked from floor to ceiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I'm becoming a veteran of this route, I'm learning where the cheap gas stations are. This knowledge was gained after being ripped off several times in the middle of that desolate nowhere along Interstate 5. After filling up the van, I took my turn behind the wheel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad is an avid viewer of "The David Letterman Show", and I remember seeing an episode where Paris Hilton was a guest. Mr. Letterman asked her what it was like driving that huge motorhome around the US. She answered that she was used to driving a Porshe, and driving a motorhome was like driving four Porches put together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how I felt behind the wheel of the van. I'd driven it around town before, even taken it down to Beverley Hills. But never had I attempted to drive the thing packed so full. As we started to climb up the Grapevine, I noticed the wind pushing against us. I slipped the van into second gear and tried not to over react to the wind. Believe it or not, we did lap some cars and trucks going up the mountain. Who's driving makes a big difference! : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of taking I-5 straight through downtown L.A, we decide to take a chance on 60 East (the Pomona Freeway). I made one lane change to the right, getting ready to move all the way over to exit when Sean says "Oh no, It's a left exit." This means I have to move back over to the left. Once I put my blinker on, though, all the drivers in the other lane seem to ride the bumper of the car in front of them. Freakin' LA! Eventually I make it over, and away we go, away from the horrible Interstate 5 traffic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S0 it was a bit disheartening to hit an equally large, possibly bigger traffic jam on 60. Faced with the slow-n-go traffic, we decided dinner was in order. I exited on Garfield Avenue, and we planned to grab something at Carl's Jr, or Taco Bell. We drove and drove and drove. Nothing but houses, we'd ended up in a residential area. Finally, we hit an area with shops and cafes. I pulled my behemoth vehicle into a free parking lot, and we made out way to the Eight Cafe. After using the bathroom, we were surprised to discover that everything on the menu, and on the walls, was in Chinese. The waitress didn't know any English at all, except, apparently, for the phrase "Beef Stew!" She said it several times, rather excitedly, as we indicated that we didn't speak Chinese. She seemed truly disappointed when we left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left the first establishment, walked a bit, then crossed the street. The second place had menus in English, and we placed our orders. It was only after that waitress brought tea for us that we saw the "cash only" sign. Neither of us had any cash that moment, so, after cancelling our order, we moved along. On the opposite side of the street, we once again passed the Eight Cafe. We saw one huge Asian grocery store, one of those Boba tea places, and quite a few beauty salons. Finally, we saw another restaurant! We were near the Intersection of Garfield and Garvey. The name of the place was Mei Mei Seafood Restaurant. If memory serves, "mei mei" is Chinese for little sister, so I'm thinking "Little Sister Seafood Restaurant. (I could be wrong though!) There was English on the menus and a VISA sticker on the window, so we were set! We happily sat down with our growling empty tummies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, when we'd gotten off the freeway, we driven into Montebello's Chinatown. For a girl like me, with a bit of wanderlust, I've always wanted to go to different foreign places, exotic places. As we wandered down Garvey Avenue, I thought "This is probably the closest I'll ever get to the real China!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can honestly say that I've never been to a place with a similar menu. For appetizers, there was calamari, oysters, pig ears, and parts of a duck that I didn't even know could be eaten. On the wall were eight by ten photographs of their various specialties. The few I remember include South African scallops, which was in the neighborhood of $30, and some sort of Spicy Schezuan (Hmm, I can't spell that, but I think you all know what I'm trying to say, lol) Clam dish. I believe that Sean ordered Kung Pao Seafood, while I ordered the Seafood with Pan fried Noodles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MMm! My dinner was so yummy! The sauce went great with the noodles, and helped soften their crunch. My favourite seafood for that dinner was scallops, which I'd never ever had before. Sean and I shared our meals and compared the tastes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We slowly made our way back to the van with full tummies. Sean volunteeres to drive because we thought that, in order to exit the parking lot, we'd have to make a tricky left turn across Garfield Avenue. Sean snuck us down an alley though, and we went around the block. After getting back on the freeway, we found more traffic. Not as bad as before, but enough to slow us down from time to time. East we drove, until we hit Interstate 15. Although the day had been very long, we finally slipped into the parking place in front of the house. It was 9:30pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(for more of your heroine's adventure, please stay tuned!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxox Tragic Tuyen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111839199472495943?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111839199472495943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111839199472495943&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111839199472495943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111839199472495943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/06/very-long-drive-with-man-i-love.html' title='A Very Long Drive (With The Man I Love)'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111830134948680252</id><published>2005-06-08T22:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T00:15:49.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Graduation Day (Part 2)</title><content type='html'>Morning came early!  I could barely open my eyes.  My parents were already up, already showered.  I let Sean sleep a little longer and took a shower.  After getting done with that, I got dressed, and (with my mom's help) made Sean some coffee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As usual, with my parents being involved, we were one of the first families to show up for graduation.  We parked in the old shuttle bus lot and made our way to the bleachers.  Sean bought me an orchid lei, which was absolutely beautiful.  I'd always wanted to wear one after seeing them in the past.  Sean and I wandered around the mostly desolate Spartan stadium taking pictures.  Also, we bought a giant pretzel and shared it.  Around 9am, all of the graduates had to make their way to the various staging areas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not wanting to leave my fiance, I grudgingly made my way to the Social Sciences crowd.  Our of the 29 history graduates, only 9 of us actually showed up for the big university-wide graduation.  With it being so early, I fully understood why. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After waiting around for 45 minutes, our group finally began the long march to our seating area.  On the way there, we were given our free license plate frames and had our pictures taken (I haven't gotten mine in the mail yet.)  Our commencement speaker was Dr. Lily Wong Fillmore ("an international authority on literacy and second language learning and a life-long champion of helping immigrant children with language skills.")   After her speech, the honorary degrees were given to Tommie Smith (Bronze Medal, 200 meter dash) and John Carlos (Gold Medal, 200 meter dash.)  You may remember them from the 1968 Mexico City Olympics.  Both San Jose State graduates, they protested the state of civil rights in the United States by raising black gloved fists during the medal ceremony.  Although the political statement was incredibly unpopular in 1968 (some people thought their medals should be revoked), with the passing decades, they earned more and more respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, the sun was beginning to sort of come out.  It was a chilly, cloudy San Jose morning.  We graduates were all getting antsy.  The crazy business majors were trying to get "the wave" going.  All around me, people were on their cell phones.  Phuong skipped graduation because it was too early for her to wake up.  Every once in awhile, if I looked around the kid in front of me with the big block head, I could make out Sean and my parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there was more waiting.  First, we had to wait for all the master's candidates to be confirmed and hooded.  This took forever in the business and engineering colleges. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, it was our turn.  The College of Social Sciences went last, but when we were announced and confirmed, we all screamed, waved, and jumped up and down.  The communications majors threw confetti!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just like that, we were officially Graduated!!  All of that hard work over all those years finally paid off.  I made my way to my family and we made our way back to the car.  By the time we got back to the house, my uncle and grandparents were already there.  I introduced Sean to my Uncle, but he'd already met everyone else.  Also, after a little bit of time, Preyma, my oldest and bestest friend ever showed up.  I felt so bad because she had to take BART and then get a ride from her dad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition to my orchid lei, I also got flowers from my dad and Preyma.  It figures that with this rapid influx of flowers, the vases would all be in boxes in San Diego.  I had to use a water pitcher for one bouquet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For food, we had my grandma's famous macaroni salad, barnecued chicken and hot dogs, vegetarian pizza from Pizza Fresh (the best pizza in the entire world!!!), and Sean's legendary curry!  My maternal grandma absolutely loved the curry, as she has an affinity for spicy food.  Don't forget, dessert!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a giant chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate filling!  So so yummy!  It said "Congratulations for the graduate, 2005!", and had yellow and blue roses on it.  As I cut the cake, I made sure that I got a rose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 6pm, everyone started heading home.  Sean and I drove Meera to Fremont so she could catch BART back to Berkeley.  We were both so tired that night that we could barely stay awake past 10pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day we'd have to get an early start, because we were driving up to Sacramento to visit with Collin.  I was afraid we'd hit serious Memorial Day traffic, but we got off super easy.  Sean bought peppered mangos, which I'd never had before.  (I'd never even heard of such a thing.)  We all went to see "Madagascar," since "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" wasn't showing.  It was pretty funny for a kid's movie, can you imagine that Chris Rock is the main character?  Afterwards, we went and had ice cream at Marble Slab.  The sweets were followed by lots of shopping in these two outdoor malls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't think about it until after the fact.  I could just imagine Sean's son going home with dinner ready.  Only, of course, he wouldn't be hungry because he had just eaten a sundae as big as his head.  (It was pretty close, actually.)  Oops!  Anyway, we had a really good time, and like our trip North, we hit very little traffic on the way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, Monday, was spent packing up my dad's van with quite a few of my belongings.  My dad and I wanted to take Sean to Tsuguru, our favourite Japanese restaurant.  But like most of the restaurants we could think of, they were closed for the holiday.  We ended up having vegetarian pizza from Round Table, left over macaroni salad, and of course, cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, we couldn't have any of Sean's curry, because it met a dark end.  My dad was attempting to put it in a container and place it in the icebox when it slipped from his fingers.  I was so sad to see the splattered curry, and I felt bad for Sean having put so much effort into it.  That night, Sean and I finally got to see"The Grudge," which we'd been trying to see for months. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It spooked me good!  Silly me, I thought I was over my fear of the dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, we set off on a long drive to sunny San Diego!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxoxox Tragic Tuyen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111830134948680252?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111830134948680252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111830134948680252&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111830134948680252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111830134948680252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/06/graduation-day-part-2.html' title='Graduation Day (Part 2)'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111821693209420810</id><published>2005-06-07T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-08T00:53:18.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Graduation Day (Part 1)</title><content type='html'>Graduation Day finally came! I never thought it would, at times. On Friday, May 27th, the small history department graduation was held. In attendance were 27 out of 28 graduates, family, friends, and faculty. We graduates had to be there an hour early, 3pm. The graduation itself was held at 4pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After escorting my family, mom, dad, and grandma, to the engineering building where the graduation would take place– the history building is very old and not at all fancy, while the engineering building is sparkling gem, you can tell what college the university values most– I made my way to Dudley Moorehead Hall. Once I was there I met up with Phuong, *the* crush of two years, and other peeps. After I picked up my gag diploma, we all headed outside for pictures. We had a few taken of the three of us, and then I took several of Phuong and the crush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had left my brand new camera with my mom. My fiancé (the most wonderful man in the entire world) had got my present to me a few days early. He had bought for me.... the Harajuku Lovers Camera (HP Photosmart R607)!!! I never ever expected such a wonderful present! In case you are not familiar with it, this would be the camera co-designed by Gwen Stefani and HP. It’s a digital camera that has 4.1 megapixels. I’m not quite sure what that means, but it must be important because it is written rather prominently on the box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After taking pictures of our own, then we gathered for pictures by the professional photographer. I had opted not to buy a picture because it was a bit too steep for my blood. The photographer made us stand in two different places and kept rearranging us before he actually took any pictures. Plus, he would not let us keep our sunglasses on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Following pictures, we were once again rounded up by faculty members. For the last time, we sat in DMH 150 while Prof. Underdahl gave us our directions. He was in the military for a long time and taught at a military college. While speaking to us, he proceeded to draw a diagram on the white board on how we would....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Enter the Lecture Hall where the ceremony would be held&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. File into rows and seats, in alphabetical order (including contingency plan in case we ran out of chairs)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Cross the stage when our names were held&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. File out of the lecture hall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite several diagrams with many arrows in different colors, we still managed to get all messed up. Hey, I was listening to the instructions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a very long commencement speech by Dr. Vasquez, our names were read and we crossed the stage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VOILA!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were now officially graduated!! It was a very surreal experience for me. During my long hard slog through academia, I just never ever thought the day would come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we left the theatre, Prof. Cirvilerri came up to me and congratulated me. He asked me about my future plans, grad school and so forth. When my parents caught up with us, he told my family about what a wonderful student I had been, and about my incredible presentation on V.I. Lenin. It turns out that he had done his dissertation on Lenin and that I did very good, thorough work. (Sorry, I don’t get to brag very much about academic praise with my measly 3.2 GPA.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The history department had a sort of picnic/ buffet waiting for us. While my parents and I were snacking (my poor allergy prone mother could only have the lemonade because she was unsure of all the other ingredients) Dr. Reynolds came up and congratulated me. I really wasn’t expecting that he’d remember me, but he did. He too asked about my plans, grad school, careers, etc. I took two classes with him, History of World War II and History of China from 1600. For our term paper in WWII class, I chose to write about the Battle for Stalingrad, because the directions were very vague. Anyway, it turned out I’d written on the wrong topic– I was not the only one to do so. When I got my 30 page paper back, he had written something like "Did you even read the term paper guidelines? If so, it is not apparent. Nevertheless, you have done a fine job which deserves to be rewarded." He game me an A-. I was always sort of afraid of screwing up in his classes after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Underdahl also came up to me to say goodbye and ask about..... GRAD SCHOOL! He even said he would be willing to write me a letter of recommendation. Also, he asked about my husband-to-be. We had been talking once and I had said that Sean was over in Iraq, and it turned out his son had just got home from Falluja.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After posing for a few more pictures with Phuong, Mai, and Lisa B, we had to skidaddle. Sean’s plane was due to land in about an hours time. SJSU is very close to the airport, but the day before my dad and I had been there to pick up my grandma, and it was super busy! Probably because of the upcoming Memorial Holiday weekend. We scored a primo parking place right outside of baggage claim, and walked as far as you can walk nowadays to the terminal. My entire family and I perched on an uncomfortable bench and waited for my San Jose bound Sean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, after the plane landed, I looked to my left and saw him walking towards me. That’s one of the great things about having such a tall guy– easy to spot! After some kisses and hugs, and don’t forget, pictures, we were off to baggage claim, and eventually a restaurant to feed out hungry tummies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Due to the varied likes and dislikes of my family, I picked two places to eat: 1. Great American Cheesecake Factory, and 2. Buca di Beppo. Since Sean and I had already been to the Cheesecake Factory (the night we got engaged!), we were leaning more to Buca di Beppo. All the restaurants were packed. I kept seeing people in blue caps and gowns walking around. Sean and I went to the bar and settled in for at least part on the 60 minute wait. I had a lemon drop, Sean had some sort of beer in a very tall glass. After I started to feel the alcohol, we walked around Oakridge Mall a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My poor family waited for what seemed like forever for our table. Then, the hostess called my name and we became the chosen ones, being led to a table. Having never been there before, I did not know that the menu was family style. This means that the portions are either for 3 people or 5 people. We ended up ordering cheese ravioli, spaghetti, and potato gnocchi. The gnocchi was my favourite because it came with mushrooms, artichokes, cheese, and all kinds of other yumminess. We’d also ordered a bread pudding dessert, but our waitress forgot it and we had to get it to go. Keep in mind, we got to the restaurant around 7:45pm, got seated around 9pm, and by 10:45 our dessert still hadn’t come. The food was very, very wonderful, but be prepared that you will face a long wait if you go there without reservations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite her best efforts, my mom had a mild allergic reaction to the garlic bread and had to spend the night. It’s only the second time she’s stayed here since the divorce. She had to take some benedryl and then was too sleepy for the 50 mile drive back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had promised my friends Phuong and Lisa that Sean and I would meet them at a club that night. But we didn’t get home until 11pm. Poor Sean, up since 7am or so, being dragged out to a bar at midnight. He was a good sport though and didn’t complain once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By about 1:45am, we drove back to my house. We fell into bed and into an easy sleep. Morning came early when my mom knocked on my door at 6:15 to wake us for the big University graduation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(tbc)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxox Tragic Tuyen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111821693209420810?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111821693209420810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111821693209420810&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111821693209420810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111821693209420810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/06/graduation-day-part-1.html' title='Graduation Day (Part 1)'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111700183554561400</id><published>2005-05-24T22:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T23:17:15.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oi! Oi! Oi!</title><content type='html'>Well, after an undergraduate career that lasted eight years (*blush*) guess what!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(waits for audience to quiet down)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tragic is GRADUATING!!  Ah, I thought this day would never ever come.  There were times, suffering through inorganic chemistry and pathophysiology, that there was no light at the end of the tunnel.  I have to admit that, only after changing my major from nursing to history did the oppressive shroud of academic doom miraculously slip from my shoulders. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sit here looking at my transcripts, here's the tally:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;total university classes taken: 71&lt;br /&gt;total units completed: 194&lt;br /&gt;overall grade point average (including nursing classes): 2.82&lt;br /&gt;history grade point average:  3.2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;finally graduating after eight long years: PRICELESS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family is coming up for the graduation, as is my most wonderful fiance! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like a kid in a candy store!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxoxox, Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111700183554561400?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111700183554561400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111700183554561400&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111700183554561400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111700183554561400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/05/oi-oi-oi.html' title='Oi! Oi! Oi!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111640268671223530</id><published>2005-05-18T00:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-18T00:54:00.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Is This Century Worse...</title><content type='html'>Why Is This Century Worse&lt;br /&gt;by Anna Andreevna Akhmatova&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is this century worse than those others?&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, because, in sadness and alarm,&lt;br /&gt;It only touched the blackest of the ulcers,&lt;br /&gt;But couldn't heal in its own span of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Else, in the West, the earthly sun endows&lt;br /&gt;The roofs of cities with the morning light,&lt;br /&gt;But, here, the White already marks a house,&lt;br /&gt;And calls for crows, and the crows fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(1919)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111640268671223530?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111640268671223530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111640268671223530&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111640268671223530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111640268671223530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/05/why-is-this-century-worse.html' title='Why Is This Century Worse...'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111640245196302470</id><published>2005-05-18T00:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-18T00:52:53.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You'll Live, But I'll Not...</title><content type='html'>You'll Live, But I'll Not&lt;br /&gt;by Anna Andreevna Akhmatova&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll live, but I'll not; perhaps,&lt;br /&gt;The final turn is that.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, how strongly grabs us&lt;br /&gt;The secret plot of fate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They differently shot us:&lt;br /&gt;Each creature has its lot,&lt;br /&gt;Each has its order, robust, --&lt;br /&gt;A wolf is always shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In freedom, wolves are grown,&lt;br /&gt;But deal with them is short:&lt;br /&gt;In grass, in ice, in snow, --&lt;br /&gt;A wolf is always shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't cry, oh, friend my dear,&lt;br /&gt;If, in the hot or cold,&lt;br /&gt;From tracks of wolves, you'll hear&lt;br /&gt;My desperate recall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(1959)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111640245196302470?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111640245196302470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111640245196302470&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111640245196302470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111640245196302470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/05/youll-live-but-ill-not.html' title='You&apos;ll Live, But I&apos;ll Not...'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111631753667993603</id><published>2005-05-17T01:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-17T01:12:16.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Motherhood</title><content type='html'>"Motherhood is a bright torture.  I was not worthy of it." &lt;br /&gt;-Anna Andreevna Akhmatova&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111631753667993603?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111631753667993603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111631753667993603&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111631753667993603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111631753667993603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/05/motherhood.html' title='Motherhood'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111631565470128284</id><published>2005-05-17T00:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-17T00:40:54.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dedication</title><content type='html'>"Dedication" by Anna Andreevna Akhmatova&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mountains bow down to this grief,&lt;br /&gt;Mighty rivers cease to flow,&lt;br /&gt;but the prison gates hold firm.&lt;br /&gt;And behind them are the "prisoners' burrows"&lt;br /&gt;And mortal woe.&lt;br /&gt;For somewone a fresh breeze blows,&lt;br /&gt;For someone the sunset luxuriates--&lt;br /&gt;We wouldn't know, we are those who are everywhere&lt;br /&gt;Hear only the rasp of that hateful key&lt;br /&gt;And the soldiers' heavy tread.&lt;br /&gt;We rose as if for an early service,&lt;br /&gt;trudged through the savaged capital&lt;br /&gt;And met there, more lifeless than the dead;&lt;br /&gt;The sun is lower and the Neva mistier,&lt;br /&gt;But hope keeps singing from afar.&lt;br /&gt;The verdict... And her tears gush forth,&lt;br /&gt;Already she is cut off from the rest,&lt;br /&gt;as if they painfully wrenched life from her heart,&lt;br /&gt;As if they brutally knocked her flat,&lt;br /&gt;But she goes on... Staggering... Alone&lt;br /&gt;Where now are my chance friends&lt;br /&gt;Of those two diabolical years?&lt;br /&gt;What do they imagine in Siberia's storms,&lt;br /&gt;What appears to them dimly in the circle of the moon?&lt;br /&gt;I am sending my farewell greeting to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(March 1940)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111631565470128284?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111631565470128284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111631565470128284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111631565470128284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111631565470128284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/05/dedication.html' title='Dedication'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111631524747915968</id><published>2005-05-17T00:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-17T00:34:07.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Requiem</title><content type='html'>"Requiem" by Anna Adreevna Akhmatova&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, not under the vault of alien skies,&lt;br /&gt;And not under the shelter of alien wings--&lt;br /&gt;I was with my people then,&lt;br /&gt;There, where my people, unfortunately, were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(1961)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111631524747915968?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111631524747915968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111631524747915968&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111631524747915968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111631524747915968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/05/requiem.html' title='Requiem'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111587613025287046</id><published>2005-05-11T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T22:35:30.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Old Are You?</title><content type='html'>Hmm.... Let's see....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when sending a regular letter only needed a 25 cent stamp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember buying my very first album, Cyndi Lauper "She's so Unusual" on vinyl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I saw Star Wars was on network TV. We recorded it on our VCR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember card catalogues, and writing papers for high school without the internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when "Ice, Ice Baby" was at the top of the charts. (I was in the 6th grade, baby!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along time ago, Michael Jackson was a music sensation with number one albums. When I was in pre-school, I had a red shirt with a picture of him on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember watching "Magnum P.I." and "the Smurfs" when I was little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when the Berlin Wall came down, and everyone proclaiming that the world would definitely be a much safer place when the Soviet Union Fell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111587613025287046?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111587613025287046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111587613025287046&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111587613025287046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111587613025287046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/05/how-old-are-you.html' title='How Old Are You?'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111467623565074522</id><published>2005-04-27T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T01:17:15.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Believe In A Thing Called Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I've had a busy last few weeks!  Let's see, the last time I blogged, I left off with meeting Sean at the airport. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;We spent Thursday and Friday nights in San Diego.  Friday morning we ate at International House of Pancakes; I ordered the Eggs Benedict, Sean ordered Huevos Rancheros.  (If memory serves...)  On Saturday, we intended to drive from San Diego to San Jose.  Before we left the motel we partook of the free continental breakfast, where I decided to give guava juice a try.  I admit to being dubious about this guava juive business, but it was surprisingly good.  It made me feel less guilty for eating a huge donut with sprinkles on it.  (He had a croissant.)  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;That morning, we seemed  to get an early enough start, but we kept pulling over.  We investigated the (seemingly) brand new mall off of I-5 at Irvine.  This gleaming outdoor mall also featured an assortment of fountains, which little kids were already splashing about in, even though it wasn't even noon.  At my request, we checked out a pet shop where I saw the most adorable beagle and peek puppies.  sigh! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;As soon as we hit the city of Angels we hit some decidedly unangelic traffic.  We crawled along in bumper to bumper traffic, slowly edging through the San Fernando Valley.  When we saw the sign for the Grapevine, traffic teasingly sped up, only to disappoint us, once again, by slowing to an ant's pace.  Sean, who was driving at this point, decided we should take this opportunity to exit and take 14, which goes through Palmdale and Lancaster.  He had friends we wanted to introduce me to!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;After enjoying some ice tea and cookies, we were on our way again.  We refueled in Mojave and took 58 through Tehachapi, and eventually reconnected to I-5 again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;What could have been a long, grinding drive was nothing but fun.  Sean and I were having a ball-- telling stories, making eachother laugh.  We were basking in eachother's presence.  I kept glancing down to look at my sparkling diamond engagement ring and smiling the biggest smile I've ever smiled in my entire life!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;After one or two more sight-seeing detours, we finally rolled into San Jose.  My dad finally met Sean and they really hit it off!  There are so many great restaurants where we could have eaten, so much yummy food we could have filled our tummies with.  So where did I take my fiance?  Go on, ask!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I had to take him to Denny's!  (shame!)  It was the only place open at that hour.  I actually drove to Japantown first, and Hukilau was the only place open, and only open for drinks at that.  I drove us by IHOP which was also closed.  Denny's was the only choice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;After a much earned night of sleep, we woke up and had breakfast.  Sean got to experience the San Jose chill I like to gripe about.  While I was getting dressed, Sean and my Dad were out in the "library" talking about different books they had both read.  It was pretty cool!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Then we all piled into my dad's stationwagon and made the fifty mile drive down to Hollister, where my mom lives.  She had made her famous dish, chicken marsala, along with string beans, and scalloped potatoes (from scratch!).  My grandparents were also there.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Sean was a hit with everyone!  They all loved him.  My grandfather told him the story of the Miraculous Mincemeat Pie, as well as some stories about WWII, Korea, and Vietnam.  Everyone took a turn and told a few stories.  Sean showed off his DVD that he made, as well as some gruesome footage of something called a camel spider.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;My mom hadn't had time to make dessert, so Sean and I drove down to Nob Hill and bought Lemon Meringue Pie, as well as Black Forest Cake!  yum!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;We had to drive back before dark to San Jose.  Sean and I had another drive ahead of us that very night.  We drove from San Jose to a suburb of Sacramento.  It was better to make the drive Sunday night rather than Monday morning.  The 680/580/80  corridor is an absolute quagmire, as any commuter in this area will tell you.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Our hotel was a Best Western in Cameron Park. My fiance was particularly impressed that in each room there was a computer with (gasp!) free internet access!  On Monday, I would meet Sean's son Collin for the very first time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Monday morning came, and so did Collin!  We took him to breakfast, then drove to the state capital for some fun.  Although we did not see The Governator, we did go to a pretty cool mall, a kickass Asian grocery, and the Sacramento Zoo.  We all got along really well and had a great time.  The day was ended at Costco, then we drove Collin back home to the 'burbs.  I just hope Collin liked me as much as I liked him!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;That night, Sean and I made another drive.  We stayed southbound on I-99 for hours.  Poor Sean had to do all the driving that night because I was coming down with something.  The original plan had been to drive straight through from Sacramento to Bakersfield.  And we almost made it, too.  We ended up spending the night in the small town of Tulare, an ag- town.  When we drove by the fair grounds, there was a giant neon sign welcoming the International Agricultural Convention.  Our little motel seemed to be very near to some very fragrant cows.  Neither one of could have cared less, as we were both bone tired.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Tuesday morning, we were both so fatigued we could barely squeak out of our room by check out time, 11am.  We ate at Ana's, a small Mexican cafe right across a dirt road from our motel.  I had French Toast, and I think Sean had an omelette of some sort.  (I could be wrong about that omelette.  Huevos Rancheros?  Steak and eggs?  hmmm, this is what happens when you don't write things down right away.)  Feeling guilty about making him do all the driving, I drove down to San Diego.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;As we were coming down the Grapevine, into that other world known as the San Fernando Valley, and idea struck us.  We took the 210 East and Sean called my grandma, asking her if she wanted to have lunch.  Of course, she said yes, as she loves Sean more than she loves me!  We went out to Jack's Salad Bowl on Whittier Blvd.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Unfortunately, we couldn't visit very long because we were determined not to get bogged down in the same traffic that we got stuck in when we had been northbound.  Without much delay, we made it to San Diego, and then Chula Vista.  Since I had an appointment to get my wedding gown altered on Thursday, not to mention Soviet Studies class, I would be driving back to San Jose the very next day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;But something happened when we were in the movie theatre in Mission Valley.  I started to feel not so well.  'Oh no' I thought, 'do I have a fever?'  By the time we got back to Sean's siter's house, I 'd curled up nearly in the fetal position.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So much for getting my wedding dress altered.  Before Sean went to bed, he went out to his truck and dug around for something to help my pain and fever.  Since I didn't want to keep my fiance up that night, I slept on the couch.  Or tried to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;That's the thing about being sick in a house not your own.  You don't know where anything is-- where are the extra blankets?  By the time I was exhausted enough to sleep, I'd resorted to huddling beneath the couch cushions to keep me warm.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;It wasn't a good sleep though.  It was more of a half sleep.  When Sean left for work at the crack of dawn, I was still in that half awake stage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;By mid morning, though, I'd moved back into the bedroom and promptly fell asleep.  Until 4pm or so.  My honey would call me every now and then, to make sure I was feeling better.  I called my dad, who had yet to go back to work full time, and asked if he could cancel my appointment at David's Bridal.  As soon as he heard my voice he said more than asked "You're sick, aren't you."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;The one good thing about my being sick was that I got to stay on in Chula Vista for four more days.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Thursday night we ate at a place called Delish Pizza.  Friday night we went to Sycuan Casino and played Bingo.  None of us won anything, but it was still a ton of fun!  At one point, our group of four, including my future sister in law got separated.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Sean and I still had fun though.  Even though we were wondering around aimlessly for awhile, we eventually gave up and decided to have dessert.  Can you imagine?  Cake and cookies at midnight!  We went into a gift shop and I found a lucky horseshoe necklace!  I'd been looking for one of those for ages, so Sean bought one for me, as well as a medicine wheel to hang off my rearview mirror.  Even the ten minute wait for the keys to the jewelry display case didn't spoil our joyous mood.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;As it lightly began to drizzle, we went to the patio and enjoyed hot cocoa (me) and coffee (Sean) at 1am.  That's the thing about casinos-- reality and normality are suspended.  All kinds of people roaming about, gambling, eating, and what not.  Our reunited party finally made it home around 2:30am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;The next day, Saturday, was my last day in town.  We saw "Sin City" during the matinee.  Afterwards, we drove to Frank's house.  Frank is an old friend of Sean's.  He seemed super cool, he barbequed us dinner, which included steak, baked potato, and grilled corn (yum!).  I also met his little, adorable daughter.  Her first words to me were "Your hair is pink!"  Afterwards, we played Scrabble.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Sunday morning came, and I was so sad to go home.  It seemed like I'd just been reunited with my fiance.  It felt like only a few days since he'd been back, rather than ten days.  But at least we'd be back together again by Friday morning, when we would meet in Phoenix, Arizona.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;(But right now I'm missing you so so much!  Your absence physically pains me.)  I love you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;~Your Tragedy, Tuyen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111467623565074522?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111467623565074522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111467623565074522&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111467623565074522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111467623565074522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/04/i-believe-in-thing-called-love.html' title='I Believe In A Thing Called Love'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111338181691321373</id><published>2005-04-13T01:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-13T01:43:36.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He's Back! (pt. 2)</title><content type='html'>The next day went by so slow.  My arm, still recovering from being lasered, started to itch.  At the drug store, I was extra careful *not* to buy allergy medicine with benedryl in it, because I didn't want to be sleepy on the big day.  Despite my best efforts, I still managed to buy something that knocked me out for about three hours.  I woke up around three in the afternoon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I already had my outfit picked out-- I admit to being a total girly girl in this instance.  All I had to do was wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was dressed and ready to go by 8pm.  Sean was arriving at Miramar around 10pm.  After watching the first hour of the season premiere of "Tru Calling", and trying to eat all the food my future sister-in-law put in front of me, I skipped down the stairs and hopped into my car.  I'd been assured that an hour was plenty of time to make it from Chula Vista to Miramar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you can imagine my surprise when, not 5 minutes after I left the house, my cell phone rang.  But you can't possibly imagine my surprise at who was calling me-- from Miramar, an hour early!  I assured Sean that I'd be there as soon as possible, and got on the freeway, 805 North.  Traffic was moving great for about 5 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it came to a complete stop! For the next 20 minutes, traffic lurched between a complete stop and the neck-breaking, top speed of 10 miles an hour.  Each minute that ticked by felt like an hour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dammit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd been looking forward to this day since January, and here I was late, and getting later by the second.  Finally the source of the traffic jam became apparent.  A car in a south bound lane had smashed over the median and into at least two cars-- altogether there seemed to be about 6 cars involved. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got to the terminal to pick up my fiance about an hour late.  (What a screw up!)  sigh....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at least he was back!  We hugged and kissed, and it was a million times better than I had imagined it.  Sean proposed to me on the spot, in front of his boss and a few of his friends.  There's a picture somewhere, of him on one knee sliding a ring on my finger.  In addition to a lovely engagement ring, I also got a wonderful lavendar stole from Ireland, a box or Irish chocolates, and a bunch of international postcards for my collection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since it was in the middle of Spring Break, and San Diego is a college town, most of the hotel rooms in town were taken.  But we could have slept in the back of a stationwagon for all I cared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic Is Officially Engaged&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111338181691321373?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111338181691321373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111338181691321373&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111338181691321373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111338181691321373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/04/hes-back-pt-2.html' title='He&apos;s Back! (pt. 2)'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111334606469721137</id><published>2005-04-12T15:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-13T01:10:54.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He's Back!</title><content type='html'>Hola! What a busy past few weeks I have had!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On March 29th I drove from San Jose to San Diego, a 7.5 hour drive. I made really great time until I hit Los Angeles. (big surprise!) As soon as I-5 finished its descent into the San Fernando Valley, traffic slowed down. Argh! There was so much traffic I couldn't even make any lane changes in an attempt to take a different freeway, any freeway. I took the opportunity to check out KROQ, a radio station I'd never really listened to before. At least part of the problem seemed to be caused by a broken down big rig in the slow lane, as well as a car sliding off the freeway a few miles south of that. By the time I reached Anaheim, the traffic was moving much faster. I was listening to Gwen Stefani's dance album "Love, Angel, Music, Baby" when I noticed Harbor Blvd. sign on the freeway, and spazzed out like any true No Doubter. ("Remember Harbor Boulevard/ The dreaming days where the mess was made")Unfortunately, traffic once again crept to a standstill by the time I hit 805. I finally got to Chula Vista around 4pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, I was already under covers when my cell phone rang. My fiance, calling with bad news. Apparently, his flight was delayed and he wouldn't be coming in until Thursday instead of Wednesday. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day I took my future nieces and nephew to the mall in Mission Valley. We had a pretty good time, hit most of the cool stores, including Hot Topic. My almost- nephew handled the situation well, as most of the stores we went to were girly clothing boutiques.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday night ticked by ever so slowly. One of the longest nights of my life, waiting for Sean to come home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(TBC)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111334606469721137?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111334606469721137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111334606469721137&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111334606469721137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111334606469721137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/04/hes-back.html' title='He&apos;s Back!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111199799635183625</id><published>2005-03-28T00:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-28T00:19:56.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Easter</title><content type='html'>I hope the Easter Beagle was good to you all!  My dad and I colored eggs today.  This year's dye worked alot better than the stuff I got last year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much love to my fiance!  I love you, Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111199799635183625?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111199799635183625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111199799635183625&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111199799635183625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111199799635183625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/happy-easter.html' title='Happy Easter'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111183040509510799</id><published>2005-03-26T01:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-26T01:46:45.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Argh!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Nothing frustrates me like losing a CD.  Nothing.  So you can  imagine how freakin' cranky I am to notice that I've lost 2 of my most precious cds.  No Doubt's Beacon Street Collection, and No Doubt's Rock Steady (the deluxe edition.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!  Where in hell could they f***ing be?  I've looked everywhere!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Cranky cranky Tuyen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111183040509510799?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111183040509510799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111183040509510799&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111183040509510799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111183040509510799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/argh.html' title='Argh!!!!!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111148464103760953</id><published>2005-03-21T23:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-22T01:44:01.040-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Countdown</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Making Out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; No Doubt(G. Stefani, T. Kanal, T. Dumont)&lt;br /&gt;Rock Steady&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on the second floor&lt;br /&gt;With a lock on my door&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking at a picture of your face&lt;br /&gt;The last time I looked&lt;br /&gt;You were looking really good&lt;br /&gt;But somehow pictures fade&lt;br /&gt;We're on the phone&lt;br /&gt;We're all alone&lt;br /&gt;And that just ain't good enough&lt;br /&gt;I go around the world&lt;br /&gt;To see your face&lt;br /&gt;'Cause this just ain't good enough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm just kicking it I'm counting the daysI&lt;br /&gt; hardly can wait for us to hang out&lt;br /&gt;I'm really missing it in so many ways&lt;br /&gt;I anticipate us making out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sip my morning tea&lt;br /&gt;But you're not next to me&lt;br /&gt;Here goes another day&lt;br /&gt;And driving in my car&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how you are&lt;br /&gt;While our favorite music plays&lt;br /&gt;The flowers arrive to my surprise&lt;br /&gt;But that just ain't good enough&lt;br /&gt;And I got the note, it gave me hope&lt;br /&gt;But that just ain't good enough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm just kicking it I'm counting the days&lt;br /&gt;I hardly can wait for us to hang out&lt;br /&gt;I'm really missing it in so many ways&lt;br /&gt;I anticipate us making out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon you'll be here with me (making out)&lt;br /&gt;Soon you'll be right here with me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm with my friends till the night ends&lt;br /&gt;But that just ain't good enough&lt;br /&gt;And honestly you can trust me&lt;br /&gt;But that just ain't good enough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm just kicking it I'm counting the days&lt;br /&gt;I hardly can wait for us to hang out&lt;br /&gt;I'm really missing it in so many ways&lt;br /&gt;I anticipate us making out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;We're getting so close now! Every hour, minute, and second brings us closer together.  I'm missing you in so many different ways, but that feeling is being replaced with pure anticipation at seeing you again.  Just think, in a few-ish days, we can be eating at Cafe Zucchero, and driving to Hillcrest.  And then we'd get lost on the way to the theatre, just like last time.  Then we'd have to kill an hour or two by eating sticky rice and mangoes at the Thai place we walked by, since we missed the beginning of the movie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I've been studying for most of yesterday for the second midterm in African History 105 B.  All I really need to do is polish up my essay so I can get a perfect score like last time.  What a brat!  ;-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I promise to make a more substantial post by Wednesday or Thursday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Muchos Besitos, Tragic Tuyen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;PS.  Your flowers are wonderful and plenty good enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111148464103760953?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111148464103760953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111148464103760953&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111148464103760953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111148464103760953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/countdown.html' title='Countdown'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111139604376546020</id><published>2005-03-20T23:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-21T01:12:20.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More of the same...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/IMG_2052.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Another one of my wonderful dog.  He's such a well behaved fluff ball!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/IMG_2045.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hmm, this one turned out very blurry here.  Before I downloaded it, it was fine.  Oh yeah, this is supposed to show my arm six days after a treatment.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/IMG_1748.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Another shot of my beautiful, glorious, amazing stargazer lillies from.... (drumroll please).... my fiance.  The awesomest man on the planet.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;~Tragic&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111139604376546020?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111139604376546020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111139604376546020&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111139604376546020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111139604376546020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/more-of-same.html' title='More of the same...'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111122839717672869</id><published>2005-03-19T02:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-19T02:35:34.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'>something new, something different</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/IMG_1731.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;oooh!  The beach as seen from  the Scripps Aquarium.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/IMG_1732.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;ditto!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/IMG_1745.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Beautiful flowers from my fiance, the most wonderful man in the world.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/IMG_1756.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Le Woof!  My doggy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y43/Tragic_Saturn/IMG_1779.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;My arm, three days after a laser treatment.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay people.  I'm trying something new with these pictures, which means it probably won't work.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;**crosses fingers**  besitos, your tragedy&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111122839717672869?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111122839717672869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111122839717672869&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111122839717672869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111122839717672869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/something-new-something-different.html' title='something new, something different'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111080300866422602</id><published>2005-03-14T04:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-14T04:23:28.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Scarred For Life</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow, well, technically later today, I have another laser treatment. Laser treatment, you ask, for what? I’m getting my sleeves removed. By sleeves I mean tattoos from shoulder to wrist on each arm. Yes, it did hurt to getting that extensively tattooed to begin with. I’m just beating some of you to the punch. You wouldn’t believe how often I get asked that. And, yes, it does hurt getting them removed, because everyone always asks me that too. Anyway, I have had about five treatments so far, in approximately one year. Because, in addition to being quite painful, they are also quite expensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first four treatments were with the "little laser." It sounds sort of like a electric razor. Magazine articles and pamphlets like to claim that the patient (me) will only experience discomfort as a laser treatment feels very similar to being snapped by a rubber band. In my experience, the laser treatment feels like someone slowly dragging a hot razor across my skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My usual treatment lasts an hour. We break them up into: either lower arm, or half an upper arm. An hour before hand, I apply this topical cream with lidocain in it to numb the skin. When I first started getting these treatments, the laser specialist told me that because of my size, she wasn’t comfortable injecting me with lidocain.. So we decided that for the first treatment, we’d just see how I did. That was the first Friday of my Spring Break, and I spent it at a cosmetic surgery clinic, laying on an uncomfortable table, wearing ill fitting goggles. I don’t remember what we talked about that day, the nurse and I. I just remember thinking, ‘what the hell have I gotten myself into.’ After Alice finished putting ointment on my arm and bandaging me up, I was on my way out the door. Earlier in the week I’d *promised* my mom I’d drive down to Hollister to see her. You know how moms are. A drive that normally would have taken maybe 60 minutes, from Mountain View to Hollister, took much longer. As my right arm throbbed, I drove in mostly bumper to bumper traffic. My mom made me a really delicious dinner, and then had to cut it up for me because my arm was too swollen. On the treatments on my lower arm, I can expect to be swollen from two inches above my elbow all the way down to my fingers.  That night, that first night of pain, I remembered laying on my bed with my arm elevated on two couch cushions trying not to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second treatment was in December on my lower left arm. Being somewhat more prepared for the whole ordeal, and the fact that I’m right handed, made this treatment a little more bearable. But during the healing process that time, after the swelling went down a little, it became intensely itchy. Iin the shower, I’d wash my injured arm. The texture of my arm, once familiar, was no alien, hard to the touch, and hot. For two weeks, the itching kept me awake at night. Despite my best efforts, I’d wake up scratching through my pajamas, raising welts on the still sensitive skin. Almost two weeks later, with a left arm that was still peeling, I had another treatment on my right lower arm. The same things happened. Lots of swelling, and lots and lots of itching. By the time I met my then boyfriend and now fiancé in San Diego Christmas night, the peeling had begun. Sean was such a sweetie, putting benedryl cream on my arm to keep me from tearing it open at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On February 21st I was scheduled to have a treatment on my left upper arm. Since it was a holiday, my dad was convinced that I’d made a mistake. That morning I called the clinic to make sure my appointment was still on, but I got some woman at an answering service telling me that my appointment was cancelled. I shrugged and climbed back into bed. So you can imagine my surprise when Alice called me up, fifteen minutes before my appointment to make sure I was still coming. It takes me twenty minutes to get there. I jumped out of bed, applied the numbing cream, pulled on some clothes, and scrambled into the car. Remarkably, I was only 5 minutes late. The only problem, as you can guess, was that the numbing cream had only been on a quarter of the time it’s supposed to be on. Washing my arm off in the sink, I knew I was really in for it. While all of Alice’s other patients use the cream and get a shot, I was going into this treatment hardly numbed at all. This was the first treatment on my upper arm, and about half way into it, Alice decided it might be best to break this session in half. In other words, half a treatment on my left upper arm, and half on my right. The main reason for doing this, she explained, was that she was nervous about how much I might swell. Plus, she’d gotten a new idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The laser she’d been using me is called the q-switched ruby laser. It works excellently on lots of colours, except for the blues and greens. The main colours on my upper arm are turquoise and purple. Her new idea was to use the older laser because it could chew through those shades much faster than the smaller ruby laser. The only thing was that she’d have to give me a shot because the bigger laser hurts more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the entire four days between appointments, I am completely worked up about having to get a shot. Just ask my fiancé. Did I forget to mention the part where I’m completely scared of needles? My needle fear does not apply to getting tattooed or pierced, only to getting blood drawn and getting injections. I don’t care if it’s ironic, I don’t care what you say. Those things are completely different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, when February 26th rolled around, I found myself more nervous then ever before. Mostly thinking ‘holy shit, I have to get a shot’&lt;br /&gt;Alice called my name and back I trudged to the bathroom, where I washed off my arm. As I sat on the table, we made chit chat, wherein I mentioned my needle phobia at least two, possible three times. She decided we could "take it as we go", she could always give me the shot later. She handed me my goggles, a different colour than before. She sat on my right side, and I closed my eyes. The big laser had to warm up before we could start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**thud**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**thud**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made a sound like a big shoe in a clothes dryer. I found myself thinking ‘well, that can’t be good.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**thud**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**thud**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you ready to get started?" I nodded my head ‘yes’ without opening my eyes. While the other laser hits the skin continuously, this one hits much slower. And deeper. Each impact, that’s what it felt like, seemed as though it went from the outside of my skin all the way down to the bone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**thud**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**thud**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**thud**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she asked "How ya’ doing?", I told her that I was fine. This time around, none of my tricks seem to be working. In the past during these treatments, I could distract myself by trying to remember song lyrics, passages from my favourite books, dialogue from my favourite movies. One of the songs that I often remember is from Blink 182, "Easy Target."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All her signals are getting lost in the ether&lt;br /&gt;She's a landslide with a city beneath her&lt;br /&gt;So take a good look&lt;br /&gt;So you'll never forget it&lt;br /&gt;Take a deep breath&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm gonna regret it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly's looking dry&lt;br /&gt;Looking for an easy target&lt;br /&gt;Let her slit my throat&lt;br /&gt;Give her ammo if she'll use it&lt;br /&gt;Caution on the road lies lies and hidden danger&lt;br /&gt;Southern California's breeding mommy's little monster&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's got a mission&lt;br /&gt;And I'm collateral damage&lt;br /&gt;She's the flower that you place on my casket&lt;br /&gt;Savour the moment cause the memory's fleeting&lt;br /&gt;Take a photograph as the last train is leaving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly's looking dry&lt;br /&gt;Looking for an easy target&lt;br /&gt;Let her slit my throat&lt;br /&gt;Give her ammo if she'll use it&lt;br /&gt;Caution on the road lies lies and hidden danger&lt;br /&gt;Southern California's breeding mommy's little monster&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Run, Run, Run, Run, Run&lt;br /&gt;(Hurry Let Me Out)&lt;br /&gt;Run, Run, Run, Run, Run&lt;br /&gt;(Hurry Let Me Out)&lt;br /&gt;Run, Run, Run, Run , Run&lt;br /&gt;(Hurry Let Me Out)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that song is sort of short for that kind of situation. Besides, this last time I couldn’t rally concentrate on any lyrics, not even No Doubt songs. I just couldn’t think of them. Not a one. All I could do was make a half hearted attempt at conversation. But I made it. Barely, but I made it. She told me some important things, she told me about the rule of nines, and something called compartmenting, (or something like that) but I wasn’t really paying attention because my arm was hurting. When I sat up, climbed off of the table, she bandaged me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night was really tough. While the little laser left my arm feeling like it had been sunburned, and rubbed raw with gravel, the treatment with the big laser left me feeling like my upper arm had been attacked my a blow torch, and an angry one at that. Even though we only did the outside part of my upper arm, the swelling was awful. It went below my elbow, and also extended up passed my shoulder and to my collar bone. I was so swollen my collar bone wasn’t even visible. My neck was sore too, every time I’d try to turn my head to the right, I’d remember I couldn’t turn my head all the way. Everything felt so tight. Sometimes when my dad makes hot dogs for dinner, he leaves them in the boiling water too long. The hot dogs get really swollen and actually spilt open because the casings are too tight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how I felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;February 27th was the Oscars, and I barely saw an hour of it. I’d woken up with a terrible migraine (which I get sometimes). That coupled with my swollen, monstrosity of an arm meant that I only left bed to pee. I only slept for maybe twenty minutes, maybe a half hour at a time. The swelling lasted for five days, and I was able to resume my push ups after about two weeks. The headache only lasted for one day, thankfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I always get a little down after these treatments, after this last one I was depressed. The only ray of sunshine I could think of was Sean. Even though I knew my pain would end sooner or later, I was afraid it wouldn’t. I became afraid that my arm would be swollen, blistered, and bloody for eternity. (I don’t get blisters from the little laser.) I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel. (I know, I know, sorry for the cliche.) I had several dreams that I catch on fire and no amount of water will put it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, my upper right arm is still peeling and itchy. One can clearly see where the laser tagged me; I have a bunch of circles about the size of a pencil eraser on the outside part of my upper arm. Each one of these represents a former blister. Before they popped, when I would get cold, I would get goose bumps, these painful goose bumps on my arm. I would get weird shooting sensations in my arm when it would happen, and would feel hot and cold at the same time. It would make me shiver.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow shouldn’t be that bed though, we are using the little laser. Here is the song I will try to remember. It’s one of my favourites, I give you, "Crash Into Me" by the Dave Matthews Band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You’ve got your ball&lt;br /&gt;You’ve got your chain&lt;br /&gt;Tied to me tight tie me up again&lt;br /&gt;Who’s got their claws&lt;br /&gt;In you my friend&lt;br /&gt;Into your heart I’ll beat again&lt;br /&gt;Sweet like candy too my soul&lt;br /&gt;Sweet you rockAnd sweet you roll&lt;br /&gt;Lost for you I’m so lost for you&lt;br /&gt;You come crash into me&lt;br /&gt;And I come into youI come into you&lt;br /&gt;In a boys dream&lt;br /&gt;In a boys dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Touch your lips just so I know&lt;br /&gt;In your eyes, love, it glows so&lt;br /&gt;I’m bare boned and crazy for you&lt;br /&gt;When you come crash&lt;br /&gt;Into me, baby&lt;br /&gt;And I come into you&lt;br /&gt;In a boys dream&lt;br /&gt;In a boys dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I’ve gone overboard&lt;br /&gt;Then I’m begging you&lt;br /&gt;To forgive me, oh&lt;br /&gt;In my haste&lt;br /&gt;When I’’m holding you so girl&lt;br /&gt;Close to me&lt;br /&gt;Oh and you come crash&lt;br /&gt;Into me, baby&lt;br /&gt;And I come into you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hike up your skirt a little more&lt;br /&gt;And show the world to me&lt;br /&gt;Hike up your skirt a little more&lt;br /&gt;And show your world to me&lt;br /&gt;In a boys dream.. in a boys dream&lt;br /&gt;Oh I watch you there&lt;br /&gt;Through the window&lt;br /&gt;And I stare at you&lt;br /&gt;You wear nothing but you&lt;br /&gt;Wear it so well&lt;br /&gt;Tied up and twisted&lt;br /&gt;The way I’’d like to be&lt;br /&gt;For you, for me, come crash&lt;br /&gt;Into me"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111080300866422602?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111080300866422602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111080300866422602&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111080300866422602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111080300866422602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/scarred-for-life.html' title='Scarred For Life'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111027105139445846</id><published>2005-03-08T00:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-10T15:34:45.916-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sal Si Puedes</title><content type='html'>Here is a story for you all. It’s about how, even though I have been a student for so long, I still mix up really important dates. I am afraid this is going to be the case with my graduation application too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last May, in my Chinese History class, we students were supposed to pick a book to review, and then find a corresponding article from an academic journal which reviewed aforementioned book. Now, the last time I wrote a paper for this class. I picked a book that wasn’t on the approved reading list and didn’t realise it until 5 minutes before it was due. I didn’t even bother turning it in because I knew Dr. Reynolds would not accept it. I just turned in the proper paper one day late and took a point deduction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this time I was going to do it right. I was going to read the directions. I was going to be careful. I spent hours on this paper and was very proud of it. I even printed it on paper with a pastel sunset like this. So, I think you can imagine my absolute HORROR when I realised I had screwed up again. In the exact same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My plan was to talk to Dr. Reynolds after class– confess my stupidity. But I couldn’t quite muster up the courage. After my second class I meet up with Phuong and we chit chat about our day so far. Dr. Pickering passed by and Phuong asked her a question, so before she left I decided I’d ask her about my dilemma. Dr. Pickering said I should definitely talk to Dr. Reynolds sooner rather than later– she even let me used her office phone to do so. I left a message with Dr. Reynolds and said I would stop by during office hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at 3pm, I knocked on his door. My hands were sweaty and I was scared of getting called an idiot. I imagined that the best case scenario was that he would let me rewrite my paper- but since it would be two days late he would deduct 2 grades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I told him my error, he asked me what book I reviewed. And when I told him, he said– "Oh, that’s fine." What? Fine? Oh thank god!! I thanked him and practically skipped back to my car. (Sigh.) Sometimes people surprise you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck! Dammit I've got to graduate!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my wonderful fiance, the giver of flowers, I hope you are safe and sound. We're really getting close now. I just crossed another day off my calendar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;besitos, Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111027105139445846?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111027105139445846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111027105139445846&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111027105139445846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111027105139445846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/sal-si-puedes.html' title='Sal Si Puedes'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111010348547948592</id><published>2005-03-06T02:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-06T02:06:01.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yummies From Tibet</title><content type='html'>Tibetan Tara (Sweet Yogurt Shake)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 cups plain yogurt&lt;br /&gt;10 ice cubes&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup brown sugar&lt;br /&gt;Preparation:&lt;br /&gt;Blend the ingredients together in a blender until smooth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I've been looking over my old recipes lately and I happened upon this one. If memory serves, I found it in a beat up book at the library. Anyway, I know it doesn't seem like it would be, but it's actually quite yummy. (Probably not health food either, but that's why it tastes so yummy.) The only change I made is less ice cubes, and that's because my da's old blender (it was a bridal gift before my parents wedding) is quite old and doesn't really like the hard things to grind up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Take A Chance!! Give it a whirl!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Besitos, Tragic Tuyen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;PS. HMS= SMH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;We're getting married, amor! J'taime!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111010348547948592?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111010348547948592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111010348547948592&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111010348547948592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111010348547948592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/yummies-from-tibet.html' title='Yummies From Tibet'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-111001998536103595</id><published>2005-03-05T02:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-05T02:53:05.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why???</title><content type='html'>Why......  is the room........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***spinning***???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic Tuyen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-111001998536103595?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/111001998536103595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=111001998536103595&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111001998536103595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/111001998536103595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/why.html' title='Why???'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110993808597457433</id><published>2005-03-04T04:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T04:08:55.363-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frontline</title><content type='html'>On Tuesday night, Frontline (PBS) aired a program called "A Soldier's Heart," which dealt primarily with PTSD. Check out the website at:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/heart/"&gt;http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/heart/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several different soldiers were interviewed for this program, including friends, families, and mental health professionals. The main point of the program seemed to be that while there is more discussion about PTSD, there is still a stigma attached to "asking for help", etc. In other words, is the military handling the problem (PTSD, battle fatigue, etc.) differently or better than in the past, or not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110993808597457433?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110993808597457433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110993808597457433&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110993808597457433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110993808597457433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/frontline.html' title='Frontline'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110975348583533030</id><published>2005-03-02T00:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-02T00:51:25.840-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Water</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;Last night I had another nightmare.  It was very short, but this is what I remember.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I'd been invited to a party and was meeting my friends there.  No one told me it was a pool party, I was dressed for clubbing.  I was wearing my big black goth boots, a tank top, and my black pinstriped pants, the ones with the zippers.  After I parked my car, I went in the house and asked some girl I'd never seen before where Phuong and Lisa were.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;"Oh," she said "There right through there," indicating a doorway.  So I opened the door, took a step, and fell.  I fell for what seemed a really long time beofre I fell into the deep end of a pool.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;A really, really deep pool.  It seemed like I was twenty feet below the water's surface.  I was close to the edge, and I was trying to grab ahold of the ladder to make my way up.  Only, instead of being a metal ladder, it was made of rope.  I had to climb the rope to make my way up.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;In my dream, I remember cursing my big heavy boots and thinking that my taste in shoes would kill me.  I was running out of air.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;And then I woke up.  Ouch, with a bloody nose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Muchos besitos por mi amor, Tragic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110975348583533030?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110975348583533030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110975348583533030&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110975348583533030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110975348583533030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/03/deep-water.html' title='Deep Water'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110932240778693420</id><published>2005-02-25T01:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-25T01:06:47.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Say Anything</title><content type='html'>In Your Eyes&lt;br /&gt;-Peter Gabriel&lt;br /&gt;So&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love I get so lost, sometimes&lt;br /&gt;days pass and this emptiness fills my heart&lt;br /&gt;when I want to run away&lt;br /&gt;I drive off in my car&lt;br /&gt;I come back to the place you are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all my instincts, they return&lt;br /&gt;and the grand facade, so soon will burn&lt;br /&gt;without a noise, without my pride&lt;br /&gt;I reach out from the inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;the light the heat&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;I am complete&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;I see the doorway to a thousand churches&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;the resolution of all the fruitless searches&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;I see the light and the heat&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;ohhh, I want to be that complete&lt;br /&gt;I want to touch the light&lt;br /&gt;the heat I see in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love, I don’t like to see so much pain&lt;br /&gt;so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away&lt;br /&gt;I get so tired of working so hard for our survival&lt;br /&gt;I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and all my instincts, they return&lt;br /&gt;and the grand facade, so soon will burn&lt;br /&gt;without a noise, without my pride&lt;br /&gt;I reach out from the inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;the light the heat&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;I am complete&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;I see the doorway to a thousand churches&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;the resolution of all the fruitless searches&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;I see the light and the heat&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;ohhh, I want to be that complete&lt;br /&gt;I want to touch the light&lt;br /&gt;the heat&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes, in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes, in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;in your eyes, in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know the movie I’m talking about? I saw the movie "Say Anything" last summer. As a single girl, I yearned to have a boyfriend like Lloyd. A guy who would stand outside my bedroom window and play "In Your Eyes" on a boom box just to win me back, rather than bang on my window late at night and curse at me. The night I watched that movie, I climbed into bed and cried, because I knew that I would never find an awesome guy like that for myself. I even recall planning on doing a post for my blog about it, but for some reason, never did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then something miraculous happened. I did find my Lloyd Dobbler. We found one another!! I wasn’t even looking for him because I’d given up. I’d even made a deal with my friend Phuong that if we never got married to anyone, we’d buy a house together, fill it with dogs and cats, and grow old as spinsters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did I get so lucky? How did I go from the unluckiest girl, a girl born to lose, to the luckiest girl in the world?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss him so much, and hope that he is safe. But soon we will be together forever. We’re getting married!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besos, Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110932240778693420?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110932240778693420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110932240778693420&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110932240778693420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110932240778693420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/say-anything.html' title='Say Anything'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110915300545784902</id><published>2005-02-23T02:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T02:03:25.543-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here is an article about us Bloggers!</title><content type='html'>Posted on Tue, Feb. 22, 2005 from the San Jose Mercury News&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; R E L A T E D   L I N K S &lt;br /&gt; •  &lt;a class="relatedstorylink" href="http://www.mercurynews.com/mld/mercurynews/10961520.htm"&gt;Finding novelty, sharing it online &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; •  &lt;a class="relatedstorylink" href="http://www.mercurynews.com/mld/mercurynews/10961517.htm"&gt;Political blog becomes paying job &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; •  &lt;a class="relatedstorylink" href="http://www.mercurynews.com/mld/mercurynews/10961514.htm"&gt;An Internet gallery of city images &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bloggers' Internet obsession&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By K. Oanh HaMercury News&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy Sherman recently woke up at 4 a.m. in a panic. Why wasn't her food blog getting as much traffic as others?&lt;br /&gt;``I daydream about the blog throughout the day. . . . I worry about it at night. I sometimes put as much energy into it as my job,'' said Sherman, 40, a self-employed marketing consultant in San Francisco who makes no money from her blog, Cooking With Amy (&lt;a href="http://www.cookingwithamy.com"&gt;www.cookingwithamy.com&lt;/a&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sherman and many others who publish the online journals known as Weblogs, or ``blogs'' for short, have discovered the addictive nature of blogging. What starts out as a hobby for some can end up permeating their lives and minds. Some of the diarists post repeatedly throughout the day, juggle several blogs and feel anxious if they don't write. Most dedicated bloggers say the endeavor has enriched their lives, but some worry about finding balance and keeping their obsession in check.&lt;br /&gt;``There is a narcotic quality to it,'' said Anil Dash, a prominent 29-year-old San Francisco technology blogger (&lt;a href="http://www.anildash.com/"&gt;www.anildash.com&lt;/a&gt;). ``The more you post, the more readers you get. It's easy for people to get sucked into it.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mental notes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;San Jose blogger Rachel Pottol, who writes about life with toddlers, constantly composes blog posts in her head for her site (&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/cerulean_me"&gt;www.livejournal.com/users/cerulean_me&lt;/a&gt;). As she goes through her day, the 26-year-old makes mental notes of good fodder: her daughter being entranced by the ``Happy Birthday'' song, her arguments with her husband, her work as a mother's helper. She set up Internet access on her cell phone just so she can check e-mail hourly for reader comments. ``It's a way for me to connect with other moms,'' she said. ``I feel like it's my job to keep these people entertained.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogs have become a fixture on the Internet landscape, with 14 new ones created every minute, according to Technorati, which tracks nearly 7 million blogs. ``Blog'' was the most looked-up word at Merriam-Webster's dictionary Web site last year.&lt;br /&gt;Many blogs are a chronicle of experiences and feelings. Others focus on a topic -- sports, food, hobbies, politics, pets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For most people, blogs are a healthy means of self-expression and validation, said Boston psychologist John Grohol, who studies online behavior. Most digital diarists find gratification in connecting with readers. Some feel the need to apologize to readers if they have not updated enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But blogging can become so all-consuming that it overshadows reality. ``They spend enormous amounts of time blogging rather than living,'' Grohol said.&lt;br /&gt;The blogosphere was abuzz in January after Justin Hall, a Los Angeles Internet junkie, posted a video of himself having a self-described ``breakdown.'' In a wrenching 10-minute video, Hall, who has kept an online journal for 11 years, cries and agonizes whether he has lived too much of his life virtually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The episode arose because the woman he loves didn't want him to blog about their relationship -- and he believed he had to choose between her and his ``art.''&lt;br /&gt;``I think the Web makes me not alone,'' said Hall, 30, in his video entry (&lt;a href="http://www.links.net/"&gt;www.links.net&lt;/a&gt;). ``I feed it my intimacies, and the Web is my constant connection to something larger than myself.''&lt;br /&gt;He's now reassessing the balance in his life and has stopped blogging for the moment. ``I was living too much in the electronic world,'' he said in an interview. ``I could sit on the computer all day, but it's not the same as being with a girl and smelling her hair.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Addicted to blogging?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Among bloggers, addiction is a running joke. One even offered a checklist: ``You are addicted to blogging if you answer `yes' to at least 3 of the following questions,'' Joi Ito, a Japanese venture capitalist with Silicon Valley ties, wrote on his blog (joi.ito.com). ``Do you think about everything in terms of whether it will make a good blog entry? Do you keep your computer in standby mode beside your bed and wake up at 2 a.m. to blog? Do you skip lunch and blog instead?''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave Pell, a San Francisco angel investor, fits the bill. He juggles three blogs -- one about technology (&lt;a href="http://www.davenetics.com/"&gt;www.davenetics.com&lt;/a&gt;), another about politics (&lt;a href="http://www.electablog.com/"&gt;www.electablog.com&lt;/a&gt;) and a third about, well, blogs (&lt;a href="http://www.theblogblog.com/"&gt;www.theblogblog.com&lt;/a&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;Addiction, he said, is the only explanation for why he started the latest, the Blog Blog, and posts more than a dozen times a day. ``It's involuntary for me at this point. It's a part of who I am.''&lt;br /&gt;Pell, 38, said he attends events he might otherwise pass up -- so he can blog about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;``It's about ego, in a way,'' said Pell, whose blogs draw 250,000 page views a month. ``A few thousand people might read your take on something. It's pretty empowering.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some, keeping a blog subtly colors every aspect of life. Renee Blodgett carries a digital camera wherever she goes to capture images for Down the Avenue (&lt;a href="http://www.downtheavenue.com/"&gt;www.downtheavenue.com&lt;/a&gt;), which mixes notes on San Francisco, technology and poetry. She walked into a cafe recently and caught herself paying attention to the colors, sounds and people. ``I was thinking how I could turn it into a post,'' said Blodgett, who is in her mid-30s. ``Before, I'd just sit down, have my bowl of soup and zone out.''&lt;br /&gt;Yet Blodgett worries whether the blog will make her less social. ``Will I become more engaged with my laptop, more engaged with my blog than I am with people?'' she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Sherman, her blogging obsession is tied into sharing her food passion with others. When she went on a three-week Mexican vacation in December, she planned her family's itinerary around getting to an Internet cafe.&lt;br /&gt;``When I'm on vacation, I fear I'll lose visitors or people will forget about me,'' Sherman said. ``I feel a sense of responsibility. I have a readership, a public, people who care if I stop writing. That drives me.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contact K. Oanh Ha at kha@ mercurynews.com or (408) 278-3457.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you all think of that??  I don't really have a "readership"  and therefore no real sense of responsibility towards a public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~besos, Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110915300545784902?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110915300545784902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110915300545784902&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110915300545784902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110915300545784902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/here-is-article-about-us-bloggers.html' title='Here is an article about us Bloggers!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110915242353083085</id><published>2005-02-22T23:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T02:05:07.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blink- 182... Bad News</title><content type='html'>Here it is, from the band themselves (&lt;a href="http://www.blink182.com"&gt;http://www.blink182.com&lt;/a&gt;):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For over a decade, Blink-182 has toured, recorded and done non-stop promotion all while trying to balance relationships with family and friends.To that end, the band has decided to go on an indefinite hiatus to spend some time enjoying the fruits of their labors with their loved ones. While there is no set plan for the band to begin working together again, no one knows what tomorrow may bring."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, from E! Online:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blink-182 Goes on "Hiatus"by Joal Ryan Feb 22, 2005, 2:35 PM PT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Blink-182 is going on the blink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In an announcement from its record label that stopped short of saying the punk-pop trio had disbanded, the group was described as being "on indefinite hiatus." Television viewers may recognize "hiatus" as an old network term meaning "when your favorite show gets canceled, but nobody has the heart to tell you to your face."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Befitting Blink-182's newly murky status, Geffen Records said there was no timetable for the band to start being a band again. "No one knows what tomorrow may bring," the label said in a statement. Rumors of Blink-182's demise were sparked when the group was a last-minute scratch, along with &lt;a href="http://www.eonline.com/Facts/People/Bio/0,128,11950,00.html"&gt;Ozzy Osbourne&lt;/a&gt;, at a tsunami-relief benefit concert Friday in Anaheim, California. Osbourne's absence was explained as being prompted by a "family emergency"; Blink-182's was chalked up to "unforeseen circumstances."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A rep for Geffen confirmed that the "unforeseen circumstances" was the band's unraveling. There weren't details as to what went down, only that after rehearsals the word hiatus began being bandied about. The official story is that guitarist/singer Tom DeLonge, 29, bassist Mark Hoppus, 32, and drummer Travis Barker, 29, want to spend time "enjoying the fruits of their labors with loved ones." "For over a decade, Blink-182 has toured, recorded and promoted non-stop all while trying to balance relationships with family and friends," Geffen Records said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Founded in San Diego in the early 1990s as Blink with original drummer Scott Raynor, the retitled band made its major label debut in 1999 with &lt;a href="http://www.eonline.com/Reviews/Facts/Music/RevID/0,1107,1329,00.html"&gt;Enema of the State&lt;/a&gt;. The album was the unofficial soundtrack of skate parks everywhere, spawning the sometimes-jokey, always-catchy hit singles "All the Small Things," "Adam's Song" and "What's My Age Again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two more studio albums have followed for the tattooed trio: 2001's &lt;a href="http://www.eonline.com/Reviews/Facts/Music/RevID/0,1107,2336,00.html"&gt;Take Off Your Pants and Jacket&lt;/a&gt;, and 2003's &lt;a href="http://www.eonline.com/Reviews/Facts/Music/RevID/0,1107,3091,00.html"&gt;self-titled release&lt;/a&gt;. Last summer, the band headlined a tour with fellow Southern California rockers &lt;a href="http://www.eonline.com/Facts/People/Bio/0,128,58564,00.html"&gt;No Doubt&lt;/a&gt;. Barker, who joined the band in 1998, already has a side project set. He'll debut in April in the &lt;a href="http://www.eonline.com/News/Items/0,1,15454,00.html"&gt;new MTV reality series&lt;/a&gt; Meet the Barkers, about him, his beauty queen wife and their children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the show does well, don't expect the word hiatus to come up anytime soon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110915242353083085?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110915242353083085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110915242353083085&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110915242353083085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110915242353083085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/blink-182-bad-news.html' title='Blink- 182... Bad News'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110897817848333394</id><published>2005-02-21T01:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-21T01:29:38.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'>oh man........</title><content type='html'>It's been raining so much lately that I feel like I should start gathering up two of every animal.  Does anyone have any sandbagging tips? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*looks out window nervously*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't sandbagged in a few years now, and my dad can't really help me.  See, this is when it would be handy to have an older brother.  Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you are all well!  SMH= HMS!!!!!  Sean, I love you so much!  You are my own private sunshine and we both know you chase the clouds away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110897817848333394?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110897817848333394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110897817848333394&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110897817848333394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110897817848333394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/oh-man.html' title='oh man........'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110889386473664749</id><published>2005-02-20T01:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-20T02:04:24.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall</title><content type='html'>"A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall"&lt;br /&gt;Bob Dylan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?&lt;br /&gt;Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?&lt;br /&gt;I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,&lt;br /&gt;I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,&lt;br /&gt;I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,&lt;br /&gt;I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,&lt;br /&gt;I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;and it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard, and it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?&lt;br /&gt;Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?&lt;br /&gt;I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it&lt;br /&gt;I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',&lt;br /&gt;I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',&lt;br /&gt;I saw a white ladder all covered with water,&lt;br /&gt;I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,&lt;br /&gt;I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;and it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?&lt;br /&gt;And what did you hear, my darling young one?&lt;br /&gt;I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',&lt;br /&gt;Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,&lt;br /&gt;Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',&lt;br /&gt;Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',&lt;br /&gt;Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',&lt;br /&gt;Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,&lt;br /&gt;Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;and it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?&lt;br /&gt;Who did you meet, my darling young one?&lt;br /&gt;I met a young child beside a dead pony,&lt;br /&gt;I met a white man who walked a black dog,&lt;br /&gt;I met a young woman whose body was burning,&lt;br /&gt;I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,&lt;br /&gt;I met one man who was wounded in love,&lt;br /&gt;I met another man who was wounded with hatred,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?&lt;br /&gt;Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?&lt;br /&gt;I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',&lt;br /&gt;I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,&lt;br /&gt;Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,&lt;br /&gt;Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,&lt;br /&gt;Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,&lt;br /&gt;Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,&lt;br /&gt;Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,&lt;br /&gt;Where black is the color, where none is the number,&lt;br /&gt;And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,&lt;br /&gt;And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,&lt;br /&gt;Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',&lt;br /&gt;But I'll know my song well before I start singin',&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;it's a hard,&lt;br /&gt;It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Copyright © 1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When ever it rains like this, I always think of this song.  It is the perfect rainy-day music.  Bob Dylan was the first singer I ever saw in concert.  It was at Concord Pavillion, and even though it was the beginning of September, it was still bloody cold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brr!  Hope you are all keeping warm.  besos, Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110889386473664749?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110889386473664749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110889386473664749&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110889386473664749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110889386473664749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/hard-rains-gonna-fall.html' title='A Hard Rain&apos;s A-Gonna Fall'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110880683005842413</id><published>2005-02-19T01:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-11T00:59:42.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Did Last Summer.</title><content type='html'>Tonight, in Anaheim, No Doubt played a Tsunami Relief Benefit with a bunch of bands, including but not limited too Linkin Park, Jay Z, and Incubus. Dammit, I couldn’t go. I cried into my box of See’s candy a little bit, but I’m trying to convince myself that I didn’t totally miss out. So tonight I’ve decided to reminisce about what I did LAST summer. Ahh... the memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw Dashboard Confessional at San Jose State. It was the beginning of my concert- going summer. Preyma (my best friend since I was 12) and I went to see No Doubt and Blink -182 at Shoreline on June 19th. Blink 182 played first and they were loud. Not in a ear- splitting kind of way, more of a "whoa I can feel the bass through my feet kind if way." When they played "Miss You", I was a bit disappointed, though, because it was like they were trying to speed through it to get to the next song. Which peeved me a bit because sometimes I’m a sappy girly girl and want to hear the ballads. And I want to hear them done right, dammit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our seats weren’t too great– basically the last row before lawn. Right before No Doubt came on, a banner was unfurled to reveal the ND logo along with a crown and "We Will Rock You" started to play. The crowd went fuckin’ nuts. It was great. Then Gwen appeared on the right side of the stage and walked up through part of the audience and made her speech:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A long time ago, in a land not so far away, in a town called Anaheim, a band was delivered from the womb of musical creation. After a dark period, a victory was won against the radio waves. Tragic Kingdom, Return of Saturn, Rock Steady... but their ultimate weapon was their FANS! We have been summoned here tonight, to San Francisco, to ROCK YOU!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While she makes this speech, Tony, Tom, and Adrian start playing "Just A Girl." They played all of the songs on the Singles Album, except for "Trapped in a Box." This means they played: (I might have them slightly out of order.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just A Girl&lt;br /&gt;Excuse Me Mister&lt;br /&gt;Ex- Girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;Bathwater&lt;br /&gt;Hella Good&lt;br /&gt;New&lt;br /&gt;Underneath It All&lt;br /&gt;Hey Baby&lt;br /&gt;Running&lt;br /&gt;Simple Kind Of Life&lt;br /&gt;It’s My Life&lt;br /&gt;Don’t Speak&lt;br /&gt;Sunday Morning&lt;br /&gt;Spiderwebs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During "Simple Kind Of Life" Gwen was so overcome with emotion that she actually started to cry and didn’t sing the middle portion of the song. SKOL was part of the acoustic set, so Tom just played on until Gwen collected herself. In retrospect, some fans have come to the conclusion that she cried because of the stress caused by learning that Gavin had a love child way back in the day. Who knows, really? It was such a great night. Preyma and I listened to Rock Steady twice on our way out the parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later (June 21st) I drove to Marysville to see No Doubt yet again. I had two tickets for this show and was going to sell one ticket. I got to the venue at 1:30 pm. Stadium management wasn’t allowing people to park, so I thought I’d go into town and look around. But there was no town, no real one, anyway. So I parked in a dirt lot near a farm where I spotted a bunch of other No Doubters. And waited. And waited.&lt;br /&gt;I waited for two hours in my hot car with the windows open– just in case a breeze decided to show up. No such luck. It was so hot my fingers were sticking to the pages of Vogue magazine, which I’d brought along to keep me busy. Around 4, cars started taking off towards the venue– so I followed. We were all turned away again at the gate. But then the dumbass security dude decides to tell me then, that the "general parking lot" is still open. Wait, what? Panic began to brew inside me. Sure enough, when I got to the other parking lot I was disgusted to see about 150 people already in line. My mood darkened even more. Instead of using my pit ticket, I decided there was no point because I wouldn’t be able to see anyway. Instead, I sat used my other ticket. At one point, these sixteen year olds walked by (they were trying to sell a spare ticket) and I noticed that one of them had pink hair too. Different from mine, though. Hers was more of a cotton candy pink, whereas mine is flamingo pink. On their second trip by the line, with a slightly less expensive ticket for sale, the pink haired chick asked, all excited– "Can I have my picture taken with you?" I was sure I was being punked. Somewhere in the shadows, surely Ashton Kutcher was waiting, trying to contain himself at my potential humiliation. I even looked around to see who they were really talking too. But they were talking to me. So somewhere in California is a picture of me and some other pink haired chick– insanely happy because we were about to see No Doubt. The best live band EVER!&lt;br /&gt;My seat was actually great. It was on the right side of Sleeptrain Amphitheatre, so I was in the shade. I was in the third row, and every one else in my area was there to see Blink 182. No Doubt opened the show and (sigh) I fell in love all over again. Gwen was so funny talking to the audience. At one point, she said, "I’m having a real bad case of PMS tonight– do you better make it worth my time..." which made the audience go bonkers– screaming and jumping. During "Simple Kind of Life," Gwen came over to my side of the stage, and I swear, looked right at me. I was the only person standing up and singing in my section, so I’m sure she saw me. They dedicated "It’s My Life" to all the fans– one of my new live faves. The set list was the same as for Shoreline, but in a different order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next concert was on the 24th of June in Chula Vista. On the 23rd I drove from San Jose to Whittier. Since my grandma lives in So. California, I decided to use that as my rest stop for a few days. I woke up at 9am and left Whittier for Chula Vista at 9:30. I arrived at 11am, but I would have been earlier except for an incredible traffic snarl in San Diego. Although there were 25 or so people in front of me, I was pretty happy. The two girls behind me, Liz and Cathy, were totally cool. We played Go Fish, Hearts, and Gin Rummy for hours while we sat in the heat. We even pooled our snack and drink resources. It was the hottest day of the year (I’d find this out later) and we all were in outside in it from 11am until the concert ended. I felt like quite the smartie- pants ‘cuz I had almost everything I needed. I even had sun screen. Which I applied. But I must have missed a spot or two. I’ll get back to that later. Everyone was sweating buckets, except for me. Even though it was baking hot, at least I didn’t have the misery of being all sweaty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 4pm, what little water we had left was practically boiling so Cathy decided to pack it back to her car. It was around this time that stadium security decided to close the gates, effectively locking us patiently waiting fans away from our cars, the bathrooms, drinking fountains and SHADE. This caused many of the people to panic, run to the gates, and NOT got back to their place in the back of the line. Not only that but people started scaling this gothic looking iron gate, complete with points, to ditch their stuff in their cars, and then climb back. It’s a miracle no one got impaled!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was madness when security finally let people back in. There were three separate lines: Lawn, Pit, and Seats. The first two groups are more antsy because everyone is trying to get as close as they can. Security at the Chula Vista show was insane. I felt like I was going to into Tel Aviv. At this show, there were way more chicks than guys. So what happened at the metal detectors and pat down area was that guys from the back on the line got in front of certain people, such as myself, who’d been there since 11am!! (Hmm, Im trying not to get pissed about that all over again.) Some people almost got knocked down when there was a mad dash to get into the pit first. Even though the show was supposed to start at 6pm, it actually started at 6:45.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The opening act was a band from Australia called The Living End. They were pretty cool but during their set, I started to feel kind of weird. I got the chills and my legs started to feel like jello with electricity running through them. After some consideration, I decided to go to the concession area and get a snack and a soda. But with each step, as I got closer and closer to snack heaven, I felt weaker and weaker. There were only two people in front of me, but I swear, it felt like an eternity before it was my turn. When I got to the front, I told the teenaged employee that I wanted a Sprite and a plain pretzel. The kid must have been stoned though, because he asked me two more times for my order. With each passing second, it felt like someone was turning the volume down in my head. My sight began to dim and I could barely hold my self up. That’s when I started to panic. And not for the reason you might think. I was thinking "Damn... I’m gonna pass out and miss No Doubt." After I paid my $9.75 I slouched over to a tiny piece of shade and drank my soda and ate half of my pretzel. I was still shivering. I’d brought along a metallic looking bright green scarf I’d knitted for Gwen (hey, don’t laugh, lot’s of Gwen-abee’s make presents for her.) But I ended up wearing it because I felt so chilled. I was actually shivering for most of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With ticket and wristband, I made it back into the pit. I didn’t go back to the front with Liz and Cathy, though. (Just in case I did spaz out and faint) I stood on the right side of the stage. The crowd was thinner. Also, at the other two concerts, Gwen entered on the right to do her speech. So I was a bit disappointed when she entered on the left. But is was sooooooo worth it. Since San Diego is Blink 182's hometown, they closed the show and No Doubt opened it. At this show, ND dedicated "Sunday Morning" to "all the old schoolers who have supported us for the past 17 years." Unfortunately, there was no encore ‘cuz the show was running behind.&lt;br /&gt;On my drive back from Whittier to San Jose, I started to feel like I was losing my voice, and coming down with a cold. Plus, I had a sunburned nose, forehead, and lower back. Every time I hit a bump I felt the pain.&lt;br /&gt;My last No Doubt concert was on July 2nd at the Santa Barbara Bowl. Phantom Planet opened. There was no Blink 182 at this show. Just ND, which suited me just fine ‘cuz they got to play longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The set list was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just A Girl&lt;br /&gt;Excuse Me Mister&lt;br /&gt;Ex- Girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;Bathwater&lt;br /&gt;Hella Good&lt;br /&gt;New&lt;br /&gt;Underneath It All&lt;br /&gt;Hey Baby&lt;br /&gt;Running&lt;br /&gt;Simple Kind Of Life&lt;br /&gt;All I Wanna Do/ Racist Friend&lt;br /&gt;It’s My Life&lt;br /&gt;Don’t Speak&lt;br /&gt;Sunday Morning&lt;br /&gt;Spiderwebs&lt;br /&gt;Rock Steady&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So— I couldn’t resist!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Number of sunburns: 3&lt;br /&gt;Number of new tires bought: 1&lt;br /&gt;Money spent on concert tickets: $306&lt;br /&gt;Number of miles driven: 1,300&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing No Doubt four times in 21 days: PRICELESS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I’m a real fan! (Desperately clings to eight month old memories.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Your favourite Tragedy**&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110880683005842413?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110880683005842413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110880683005842413&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110880683005842413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110880683005842413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/what-i-did-last-summer.html' title='What I Did Last Summer.'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110880636788984456</id><published>2005-02-18T23:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-10T15:32:59.130-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All I really want to do</title><content type='html'>UB40&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="Title"&gt;Title&lt;/a&gt;: All I Want To Do&lt;br /&gt;Album: Rat in the Kitchen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don`t like the work but true i need the money&lt;br /&gt;My life is like a joke but to me is isn`t funny&lt;br /&gt;People all around, telling me what to do&lt;br /&gt;And all I want to do is stay at home with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time after time I say to myself&lt;br /&gt;Working all my life isn`t good for my health&lt;br /&gt;Get old, get tired, get put on the shelf&lt;br /&gt;I do all the work, someone else gets all the wealth&lt;br /&gt;Wish I was on an island in the sun&lt;br /&gt;Where I wouldn`t have to worry how to get things done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don`t like the work but true i need the money&lt;br /&gt;My life is like a joke but to me is isn`t funny&lt;br /&gt;People all around, telling me what to do&lt;br /&gt;And all I want to do is stay at home with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day after day becomes more of a grind&lt;br /&gt;Bills pile up, moneys harder to find&lt;br /&gt;Trying to get ahead money`s harder to find&lt;br /&gt;If I don`t give it up I`m gonna lose my mind&lt;br /&gt;Wish I was on an Island in the sun&lt;br /&gt;Where I wouldn`t have to worry how to get things done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don`t like the work but true i need the money&lt;br /&gt;My life is like a joke but to me is isn`t funny&lt;br /&gt;People all around, telling me what to do&lt;br /&gt;And all I want to do is stay at home with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(All I really wanna do, is be at home with you, amor.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110880636788984456?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110880636788984456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110880636788984456&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110880636788984456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110880636788984456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/all-i-really-want-to-do.html' title='All I really want to do'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110862867585475303</id><published>2005-02-17T00:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-17T00:24:35.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dad and the Sling</title><content type='html'>I feel as though I spent my entire day in the car. It was bad enough that when we first got into the parking structure, some chick drove the wrong way in her BMW, cut me off, and stole a prime parking space. I ended up going all the way to the top floor, and even then I got the last spot. Then we rode the world’s *slowest* elevator all the way down. First stop was the medical secretary office, where he turned in papers to register for state disability, then I dropped off my prescription, after that we walked to the medical library, and last we went to the orthopedics department in an attempt to get dad’s sling fixed. The chick at the counter really didn’t know what we were talking about, so we left a message. All of that madness at the evil empire took at least an hour and a half. On the way back down the maze-like parking structure I was stuck behind some Mitsubishi that was dropping some one off, and the kid took forever to get out. I’m usually a patient chica, but spending such a long period of time there made me cranky. My dad laughed when I announced "This parking lot is a prime example of the fascist manner in which this entire institution is run." Fascist is my favourite word for describing Shmiser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My reward for all that waiting was lunch at Tsuguru, a restaurant in Japantown. Mmm! There’s nothing like tenpura udon to soothe one’s crankiness. My dad likes to order the oyako&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home my bank statement came, so off I went into the big bad world again to make a deposit. So of course, instead of taking the freeway like a smart girl, I took the expressway. What a mistake that turned out to be. There was a fresh accident on Almaden Expressway at Foxworthy Avenue. Police, ambulances, and fire engines came roaring into the intersection, effectively blocking the entire thing. If I didn’t have a fresh ticket, I might have jumped the curb like everyone else and driven to a different branch of the bank. But I was still a little gun shy (maybe "cop shy" would be more appropriate.) As we squeezed between emergency vehicles, I spotted a body in the road. In all of the accidents I’ve been in, I’ve never been thrown from my vehicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I pulled into the driveway, I imagined relaxing for a bit. Maybe writing a letter or knitting, But NO! My dad’s surgeon called back and said we should go to the cast room if we needed help with the sling. What? Why didn’t the woman behind the desk in orthopedics tell us this. This time we drove in my dad’s car, because it has automatic locks. My dad can only get comfortable in the bask seat behind the driver, because of that damn sling. In my car, this meant that I had to unlock all four doors. (Because the back doors don’t have exterior locks.) After waiting for an opening in the cast room for about ten minutes, it was our turn. Although the employees were nice, they didn’t really seem to know any better than me how to get the cling on correctly. They wrestled with it for awhile before figuring it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back we went to the car. We were headed to Mervyn’s because my dad wanted to buy a really big button down flannel to wear over his sling. That store didn’t have anything big enough though. Our only hope was Big &amp; Tall, which is back in the opposite direction from which we just came. It was in this store that we hit the jackpot, scoring a giant sized flannel for $19.99. Dad was getting back into the backseat, and I was reaching back to buckle the seatbelt. "You have skinny arms! You can do it!" he said. But it took every bit of stretch I had in me to be able to reach. I lost it! I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t help it. At first it was just giggles, but then it was full fledged laughing. Over the weekend my dad and I had been watching "Fawlty Towers", a real gem from the BBC which aired in the 70's. One character, Manuel, can barely speak English and is always getting into to trouble. Manuel never understands what people are saying and is always saying "Ees dee-fi-cult! Ees dee-fi-cult for mee!" Between my spasms of laugher I managed to squeak out "Ees dee- fi -cult!" Then my dad started to laugh and we both nearly had tears streaming down out faces when it was all over!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psst!  I've got a boyfriend, he's in love with me!  I can't wait for him to get back.  He's the best Valentine in the entire world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110862867585475303?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110862867585475303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110862867585475303&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110862867585475303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110862867585475303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/dad-and-sling.html' title='Dad and the Sling'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110853957775958162</id><published>2005-02-15T23:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-15T23:39:37.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Trees</title><content type='html'>The Trees&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is unrest in the forest,&lt;br /&gt;There is trouble with the trees,&lt;br /&gt;For the maples want more sunlight&lt;br /&gt;And the oaks ignore their pleas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trouble with the maples,&lt;br /&gt;(And they're quite convinced they're right)&lt;br /&gt;They say the oaks are just too lofty&lt;br /&gt;And they grab up all the light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the oaks can't help their feelings&lt;br /&gt;If they like the way they're made.&lt;br /&gt;And they wonder why the maples&lt;br /&gt;Can't be happy in their shade.T&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here is trouble in the forest,&lt;br /&gt;And the creatures all have fled,&lt;br /&gt;As the maples scream "Oppression!"&lt;br /&gt;And the oaks just shake their heads&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the maples formed a union&lt;br /&gt;And demanded equal rights.&lt;br /&gt;"The oaks are just too greedy;&lt;br /&gt;We will make them give us light."&lt;br /&gt;Now there's no more oak oppression,&lt;br /&gt;For they passed a noble law,&lt;br /&gt;And the trees are all kept equal&lt;br /&gt;By hatchet, axe, and saw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Neil Peart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I just really liked this poem. ~Tragic)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110853957775958162?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110853957775958162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110853957775958162&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110853957775958162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110853957775958162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/trees_15.html' title='The Trees'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110828728768536923</id><published>2005-02-13T01:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-13T01:34:47.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Listen up!</title><content type='html'>Remember to watch the Grammies tonight!  No Doubt are up for several awards.  Taken from the No Doubt WebSite (NoDoubt.com):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Doubt Nominated For Grammy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Doubt has been nominated in the Best Pop Performance By A Duo Or Group category for "It's My Life" from The Singles 1992-2003 collection. Gwen was also nominated in the Best Female Pop Performance category for her debut single "What You Waiting For?". The awards ceremony will take place on Sunday, February 13th, at the Staples Center in Los Angeles and will be broadcast live on CBS from 8 – 11:30 p.m. (EST/PST).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, congratulations to Jacques Lu Cont who has been nominated for Best Remixed Recording for his Thin White Duke Mix of "It's My Life" and to Toots &amp; The Maytals who have been nominated for Best Reggae Album for True Love which features No Doubt on the track "Monkey Man".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken form Grammy.com:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gwen Stefani, who has won two GRAMMYs with No Doubt, is nominated for her first solo release, "What You Waiting For?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Doubt, who have won the GRAMMY for BEST POP PERFORMANCE BY A DUO OR GROUP WITH VOCAL the last two years running, is nominated again this year with their remake of Talk Talk's 1984 hit, "It's My Life." The California group's previous wins in this category were for "Hey Baby" and "Underneath It All."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ความรัก , Tragic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(PS.  all information above taken without permission of No Doubt or Grammy.com.  In other words, please don't sue me.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110828728768536923?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110828728768536923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110828728768536923&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110828728768536923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110828728768536923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/listen-up.html' title='Listen up!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110828034074754178</id><published>2005-02-12T23:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-12T23:41:29.570-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy TET!</title><content type='html'>Happy Vietnamese New Year!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chuc Mung Nam Moi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. Stay Safe mi amor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ที่อยู่ชั่วนิรันดร์ หลงรัก&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110828034074754178?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110828034074754178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110828034074754178&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110828034074754178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110828034074754178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/happy-tet.html' title='Happy TET!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110811527163397267</id><published>2005-02-11T01:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-11T01:47:51.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cold Embrace.....</title><content type='html'>... of San Francisco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going up to San Francisco or Oakland is always interesting. My best friend since I was 12, Preyma, went to UC Berkeley. Now, she lives up in Oakland, her ex-roommate and good friend used to live in SF, but recently (well, actually more like 6 months ago) moved to Jamaica Plains, Massachusetts. Anyway, the last time I made it up to "the city", they were having a party at Dolores Park, which I’d never been to before. The party was in honor of Persian New Year and was thrown by Shabnam. The only park I’d ever been to up there was Golden Gate Park, which can be kinda skanky sometimes (especially the part up by Haight/ Ashbury). I was a bit nervous going to SF that day because the last time I went, a cement truck side swiped my car while I was sitting in traffic, at a red light (an entire door had to be replaced!). I brought cookies, Shabnam brought Iranian food, and someone else brought beer. We hung out there for a few hours until the sun went down and it got super cold. (Remember, I’m a Californian and have a different standard for "super cold".)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could never live in San Francisco. The parking (lack thereof), horrid traffic, numbers of (crazy?) homeless people who yell at you when you don’t give them money, and crappy weather don’t impress me much. There are some positive qualities about "the city" (as its referred to in the bay area), like great clubs, great restaurants, and... um... (give me a second, I’ll think of another quality) numerous museums make it a nice place to go– just talk someone else into driving you there so you don’t have to worry about driving, parking, damage from potholes (I swear my car was almost swallowed by once!) and kamikaze cement trucks. I don’t want to make anyone mad or hurt anyone’s feelings. It’s okay, as cities go. I’m just saying it’s not for me. All those dislikes probably just mean I’m getting old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I was born in San Diego (at Balboa hospital, if you must know), when I was six months old, my family moved to San Jose when my dad got out of the Navy. So I’ve always regarded San Jose as my home town. And even though I like living here, I always wanted to (oooh, get ready for a cliche) wanted to "see the world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a 9th grader, our French class got a visit from the foreign exchange program. As I sat there, listening to an exchange student who had been to Japan, my eyes got big as saucers. I remember thinking "I’m going to that." Freshmen could not be exchange students, one had to be at least a 2nd semester sophomore. My imagination ran wild for months, trying to decide where I would go if I ever became an exchange student. Japan? France? Argentina? In the car with my mother one Spring day in 1994, I proclaimed "I’m not going to be like you! I’m going to be adventurous and see the world." My mom briefly looked at me, then turned her attention back to the road. I remember thinking ‘oops, that came out kind of wrong– kind of mean.’ I should have apologised or clarified what I meant, but it was already too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the meanest thing I ever said to my mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three years later, my mom and I were eating a late lunch at Coco’s when she made her announcement. With only one-quarter of my Sicilian chicken sandwich eaten, she told me she was going to divorce my dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On TV or in the movies, these important moments can be dramatised in different ways. In "Jerry Macguire" (however you spell it), his boss takes him out to lunch at a swanky restaurant and fires him. Poor Jerry, played by Tom Cruise, begins to look around the room, suddenly aware of all the other people, and time seems to slow down. This was my experience at Coco’s. Before I started to cry, I remember looking around, suddenly embarrassed, sad, angry, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’d think in this so- called ‘culture of divorce’ that I would have at least seen one afternoon special or movie- of - the- week where the child of divorced parents develops some sort of serious problem, the root of which is the belief that he/ she caused her parents divorce, and only after said trauma is explored through therapy, yadda yadda yadda, is said kid able to move on. You’d think I might have seen at least one Dr. Phil episode exploring a similar theme about how a divorce is never the child’s fault, and grasp on to it like a piece of treasure, a flotation device in deep water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’d be wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~besos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110811527163397267?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110811527163397267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110811527163397267&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110811527163397267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110811527163397267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/cold-embrace.html' title='The Cold Embrace.....'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110767970419219414</id><published>2005-02-06T00:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-06T00:48:24.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogger.com........</title><content type='html'>Is cheating me out of 20 posts.  I counted my posts and there are at least 60 of them.  But for months now my post total has stalled at 44.  Technology is sometimes cool because it allows one to talk to her boyfriend, who is on the other side of the planet.  But on the other hand, it really bites sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I get anything to work!??! (Stares and pouts at computer.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic&lt;br /&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/7710076-110767970419219414?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110767970419219414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110767970419219414&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110767970419219414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110767970419219414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/bloggercom.html' title='Blogger.com........'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110759503688880365</id><published>2005-02-05T01:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-05T01:17:16.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bored now.......</title><content type='html'>Any BtVS fans will appreciate tonight's title. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad is doing alright since his surgery.  Twice a day, I have to put four new waterproof bandaids on his shoulder.  Those little suckers are tricky!  As a matter of fact I destroyed the first two before I even got them on.  The family dog tried to assist be licking the bandaids first, but my dad resisted this gesture for some odd reason.  I tried to sell him on the curative aspects of doggy spit, but he wasn't buying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least he's stopped fussing with his sling, for the most part.  I only have to adjust once a day now instead of four or five times, which we were doing the first few days after the surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours truly is suffering from some bad insomnia.  Normal insomnia isn't that bad, but when it comes with restlessness and a short attention span, I can't even sit still long enough to knit or read any really borning books which might be laying around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;le sigh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bon soir, Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110759503688880365?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110759503688880365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110759503688880365&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110759503688880365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110759503688880365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/bored-now.html' title='Bored now.......'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110742179558092367</id><published>2005-02-03T01:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-03T01:13:21.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Let It Go Away This Feeling Has Got To Stay</title><content type='html'>NEW (G. Stefani, T. Dumont)&lt;br /&gt;Return of Saturn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away&lt;br /&gt;This feeling has got to stay&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away&lt;br /&gt;This feeling has got to stay&lt;br /&gt;And I can't believe I've had this chance now&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New, you're so new&lt;br /&gt;You, you're new&lt;br /&gt;And I never had this taste in the past&lt;br /&gt;New, you're so new&lt;br /&gt;My normal hesitation is gone&lt;br /&gt;And I really gravitate to your will&lt;br /&gt;Are you here to fetch me out?&lt;br /&gt;Cause I've never had this taste in my mouth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're not old&lt;br /&gt;And you're not familiar&lt;br /&gt;Recently discovered and I'm learning about you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New, you're so new&lt;br /&gt;You, you're new&lt;br /&gt;And you're consuming me violently&lt;br /&gt;And your reverence shamelessly tempting me&lt;br /&gt;Who sent this maniac?&lt;br /&gt;Cause I never had this taste in the past&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're different, you're different from the former&lt;br /&gt;Like a fresh battery I'm energized by you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away&lt;br /&gt;This feeling has got to stay&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away&lt;br /&gt;This feeling has got to stay&lt;br /&gt;And I can't believe I've had this chance now&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I so curious?&lt;br /&gt;This territory is dangerous&lt;br /&gt;I'll probably end up at the start&lt;br /&gt;I'll be back in line with my broken heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New, you're so new&lt;br /&gt;You, you're new&lt;br /&gt;And I never had this taste in the past&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away&lt;br /&gt;This feeling has got to stay&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away&lt;br /&gt;This feeling has got to stay&lt;br /&gt;And I can't believe I've had this chance now&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can't believe it&lt;br /&gt;Can't believe it&lt;br /&gt;Can't believe it&lt;br /&gt;Can't believe it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away, this feeling has got to stay&lt;br /&gt;Don't let it go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really happy right now. Sleepy but happy. School has started up again, and as far as I can tell, I will be enrolled in two classes. Soviet History and African History, which adds up to two nights a week. Also, this is my last semester, as Tragic will **FINALLY** be graduating with her BA in history and minor in Eastern Religions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I've got a boyfriend, he's in love with me! Life is Sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could I ever forget you, mi amor? Soon we will be together forever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muchos Besos, Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&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/7710076-110742179558092367?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110742179558092367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110742179558092367&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110742179558092367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110742179558092367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/02/dont-let-it-go-away-this-feeling-has.html' title='Don&apos;t Let It Go Away This Feeling Has Got To Stay'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110672071960474534</id><published>2005-01-25T22:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-25T22:25:19.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey People, Please Help!!</title><content type='html'>Tragic Kingdom Dress Stolen From Fullerton Museum Center&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon the Fullerton Museum Center reported the theft of the red vinyl dress worn by Gwen Stefani on the cover of No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom album. It is believed the dress was stolen between 2:30 and 3:30 PM on Tuesday, January 11 from an exhibit on the history of Orange County Rock 'n' Roll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The Fullerton Police Department is investigating. If you have any information on the case or the whereabouts of the dress, please call Sergeant Jason Schoen of the Fullerton Police department at (714) 738-5336 or call (714) 738-6715 and ask for the watch commander.  Our foremost priority in this matter is the safe return of the dress as it means a lot to the band - it can be returned, NO QUESTIONS ASKED, to either of these addresses:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fullerton Museum Center&lt;br /&gt;301 North Pomona Avenue Fullerton,&lt;br /&gt;CA 92832 714-738-6545 Monday - Friday, 9 AM to 5 PM Saturday &amp; Sunday, Noon to 4 PM&lt;br /&gt;*There is an after hours package drop box on the East side of the museum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rebel Waltz, Inc.&lt;br /&gt;31652 2nd Avenue Laguna Beach,&lt;br /&gt;CA 92651 949-499-4497 Monday - Friday, 9 AM to 6 PM&lt;br /&gt;*There is an after hours package drop box by the front gate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It is our sincere hope that whomever took the dress will return it as soon as possible. Again, if you have any information, please call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110672071960474534?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110672071960474534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110672071960474534&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110672071960474534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110672071960474534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/01/hey-people-please-help.html' title='Hey People, Please Help!!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110535043970821003</id><published>2005-01-10T01:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-10T01:47:19.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby needed a new pair of boots!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;And here they are!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&amp;category=63889&amp;amp;item=5353234907&amp;rd=1"&gt;http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&amp;amp;category=63889&amp;item=5353234907&amp;amp;rd=1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I can't wait!  Now that I have a digi-cam I'm going to sell some of my doc's on e-bay.  I don't know how much I'll be able to get, but anything will help.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I promise I'll make a real post soon.  I'm recovering from a bad throat bug that snuck up on me on New Years Eve.  Damn germ ridden airplanes.  Maybe Howard Hughes had it right.......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;besos, Tragic Tuyen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110535043970821003?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110535043970821003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110535043970821003&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110535043970821003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110535043970821003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/01/baby-needed-new-pair-of-boots.html' title='Baby needed a new pair of boots!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110491259860149383</id><published>2005-01-05T00:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-05T00:11:55.743-08:00</updated><title type='text'>well.....</title><content type='html'>That "thud" you just heard was the sound of me being dropped from my classes. I would have put it on my VISA but the uni charges 3% more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll ask Lisa what to do, she knows about these things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;besos, Tragic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110491259860149383?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110491259860149383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110491259860149383&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110491259860149383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110491259860149383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/01/well.html' title='well.....'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110490818119615845</id><published>2005-01-04T22:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T22:56:21.196-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Teensy Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Why so I always leave these things to the last second?!  Tomorrow my tuition is due for school or my two classes I've registered for will be dropped.  (Of these two, I will probably only take one).  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Total Amount Due: 1486.00&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Oh crap!  I could put it on my VISA, but, but.... I was finally making some headway on that.  Argh.  What to do, what to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;oh yeah.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;HAPPY NEW YEAR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;PS.  I miss my Cyber boyfriend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110490818119615845?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110490818119615845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110490818119615845&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110490818119615845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110490818119615845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2005/01/teensy-update.html' title='Teensy Update'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110448417284027200</id><published>2004-12-29T01:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-31T13:06:10.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Books Books Books</title><content type='html'>See what a big geek I am! I actually keep track of these things!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOOKS READ 2000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. A Wizard Of Earthsea by Ursula K. LeGuin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The Ladies Auxilliary by Tiva Mirvis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. How To Make An American Quilt by Whitney Otto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. 2001: A Space Odyssey by Arthur C. Clarke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep by Philip K. Dick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Star Trek: The Lives Of Dax by Marco Palmieri&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Harry Potter &amp; The Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.Interpreter Of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOOKS READ 2001&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Monkey Bridge by Lan Cao&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Like Water For Chocolate by Laura Esquivel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Pigs In Heaven by Barbara Kingsolver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. The Blessing Way by Tony Hillerman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. The Dance Hall Of The Dead by Tony Hillerman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The Listening Woman by Tony Hillerman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.The People Of Darkness by Tony Hillerman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. The Dark Wind by Tony Hillerman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. The Bonesetter’s Daughter by Amy Tan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. First They Killed My Father by Loung Ung&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Arranged Marriage by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17.When Broken Glass Floats by Chanrithy Him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18.The Stones Cry Out by Molyda Szymusiak&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Breath, Eyes, Memory by Edwidge Danticat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Drowning Ruth by Christina Shwartz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Bee Season by Myla Goldberg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Harry Potter &amp;amp; The Chamber Of Secrets J.K. Rowling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. New Worlds For All: Indians, Europeans, and the Remaking of&lt;br /&gt;Early America by Colin Hathaway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Resurrecting Ravana by Ray Garton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Tales of The Slayer Vol I.(collected short&lt;br /&gt;stories)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Books Read 2002&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer-Revenant by Mel Odom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Buffy the Vampire Slayer-Immortal by Christopher Golden and Nancy Holder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Bridget Jones Diary by Helen Fielding&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. While I Was Gone by Sue Miller&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Black Robe by Brian Moore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Buffy the Vampire Slayer– Spike &amp; Dru: Pretty Maids All In A Row by&lt;br /&gt;Christopher Golden&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Catfish and Mandala by Andrew X. Pham&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Harry Potter &amp;amp; The Prisoner Of Azkaban J.K. Rowling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Books Read 2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. American Indians by William T. Hagan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Martyred Village by Sarah Farmer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.Combat Medic by Craig Roberts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. American Daughter Gone To War by Winnie Smith&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. A Very Long Engagement by Sebastien Japrisot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Home Before Morning by Lynda Van Devanter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Farscape: Ship of Ghosts by David Bischoff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Tales of The Slayer Vol II.(collected short stories)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The Quiet American by Graham Greene&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Four Hours In My Lai by Michael Bilton and Kevin Sim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. The Ugly American by William J. Lederer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. A Life of Her Own: The Transformation of A Countrywoman In Twentieth Century France by Emile Carles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. The Sorrow of War by Bao Ninh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Books Read 2004&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Farscape: House of Cards by Keith R. A. DeCandido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Farscape: Dark Side of the Sun by Andrew Dymond&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Sugar Creek: Life on the Illinois Prairie by John Mack Faragher&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Darkness At Noon by Arthur Koestler&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Maus by Art Spiegelman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;P.S. Here's an article from L.A. Weekly-- a review of Gwen Stefani's dance album "Love Angel Music Baby." Also, there is an error in this article. "Ex-Girlfriend" is not about Tony Kanal, but Gavin Rossdale. Gwen herself says so in the Vh1 Storytellers special. ; )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEC. 31, 2004 - JAN. 6, 2005&lt;br /&gt;Woman vs. Machine&lt;br /&gt;As persona overtakes person, Love, Angel, Music, Baby shows Gwen Stefani still drives her own ambitionby Ernest Hardy&lt;br /&gt;(Illustration by Tra Selhtrow)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the release of Medulla secured Björk’s position as queen of art-house pop (and it did), then Love. Angel. Music. Baby. makes it clear that Gwen Stefani is the princess of the multiplex. That’s not a diss. The nasal-voiced singer-songwriter/fledgling actress has long demonstrated an impressive knack for penning smart lyrics and catchy hooks that the boys in the band No Doubt skillfully wrap in ska/punk/reggae-lite, refracted Top 40 grooves. It’s popcorn fare but it’s filling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cinema analogy can be teased further with Stefani, who’s making her big-screen debut in Martin Scorsese’s Howard Hughes biopic, The Aviator. In it, the erstwhile Orange County babe plays Jean Harlow, the prototypical Hollywood blond bombshell. Whether or not you think she pulls it off, casting her in the part lays bare her cultural lineage.&lt;br /&gt;When No Doubt first climbed from the O.C. margins to national center stage, the press immediately labeled Stefani the new Madonna. But just as Madonna drew lazy, off-the-mark comparisons to Marilyn Monroe, the comparisons between La Ciccone and Stefani were equally half-assed. The thing(s) that made Stefani snap, crackle and pop were the ways she reconciled contradictions that really only contradict when women are sliced and diced for narrowly cast fantasies. She chilled casually with her boys on the outskirts of mainstream culture while possessing a clear gift for manipulating the formulas of pop convention. She was street savvy, unapologetically athletic and a team player, the kind of girl who’d jump in a mosh pit without hesitation and then chug a beer, all while maintaining the glossy, even delicate, pin-up beauty of which stroke fantasies are made. Her singing voice was both that of a fuck-doll come to life, rouged in emotional wounds and breathy come-ons, and a coolly self-possessed woman. It all added up to a paradoxical sexiness that was natural and unforced yet calculated, dripping in status quo signifiers of beauty and desirability; it was — and still is — hella good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This record is actually less of me than I’ve ever been before," says Gwen in the December issue of Blender, discussing the new record. (The acronym L.A.M.B. just so happens to be the name of her recently launched fashion line.) She gets major points for that statement. Most pop stars hawk their latest product by swearing they’re serving you realness, that they’re giving a guided tour through the deepest, darkest caverns in their psyches. But in her quest to make an old-fashioned (as in, a nod to the music of her youth) dance record, the 35-year-old multi-hyphenate makes it clear that there’s artifice at work; the album intentionally distances itself from the already familiar, public Gwen Stefani who pouts and seduces her way across airwaves and fashion layouts, from the flesh &amp; blood woman behind her own burgeoning multimedia empire, and even from the Gwen Stefani who’s penned some of the best songs about the heartache of busted relationships we’ve heard in the last 10 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new CD is filled with A-list collaborators: songstress-for-hire Linda Perry, André 3000, the Neptunes, Tony Kanal, Nellee Hooper, Dr. Dre, Eve, Dallas Austin; there are even cred-boosting cameos by cult femmes Wendy &amp; Lisa, as well as original members of New Order. Fans and critics have largely embraced L.A.M.B. but there’ve also been persistent, low-hum grumblings of dissatisfaction. The biggest complaint is that, as represented by the slew of co-pilots, the collection is too jarringly unfocused in its segues from new wave to R&amp;amp;B, from metallic guitar riffs to interpolations of classic show tunes, with a stopover in ’80s rock-chick land. Either way, L.A.M.B. is best appreciated as a mix tape whose source material is those old Rhino Records Best of the ’80s compilations.&lt;br /&gt;The track "The Real Thing" opens with a subtle evocation of Cyndi Lauper’s "Time After Time" before shifting gears to ’80s-style Brit synth-pop, summoning the ghosts of New Order, Pet Shop Boys and countless now-forgotten one-hit wonders who were once the staples of KROQ’s playlist. Easily one of L.A.M.B.’s best moments, "The Real Thing" is a potent snapshot of days gone by. It’s also the cut with the greatest cast of cool supporting players — producer: Nellee Hooper (Massive Attack, Björk); background vocals: Bernard Sumner (New Order); keyboards: Lisa Coleman (the Revolution, Wendy &amp; Lisa); guitar: Wendy Melvoin (Wendy &amp; Lisa, the Revolution); bass: Peter Hook (New Order). It’s a mercifully irony-free nod to the synth confections once sneered at by critics and fans of "real" rock music. The chilled outlines of those songs were warmed from the inside by chords of melancholy. They linger in the memories of former (and likely, still) misfits, lonely kids and freaks because the poignant, naked ache in the grooves — almost defiant for being so pointed — spoke not just to the bearer’s isolation but to a yearning for transcendence that almost couldn’t be spoken for fear it might never be realized or fully understood by anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hollaback Girl" lights incense at the shrine of Toni "Hey Mickey" Basil, with the ubiquitous Neptunes providing a marching band’s looped drum &amp; horn play as the thread for a funky cloak that imbues Stefani’s pinched white-girl vocals with barked attitude. Somewhere Kelis is throwing her milkshake against a wall in frustration; her Tasty CD from earlier this year similarly shared the Neptunes and André 3000 as producers. It also had a more-than-similar, all-over-the-map musical approach, complete with an ’80s throwback at its center, but it’s a given that Stefani’s sales, media profile and chart numbers will easily dwarf Kelis’ effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fantastic "Serious" is as much a nod to the once abundant Latin Freestyle/electro-synth garbed Madonnabees as it is to "Borderline"/Jellybean Benitez–era Madonna herself. The drum machine, Chic-derived guitar and sassily delivered lyrics during the bridge are a stellar fusion of elements, tailor-made for dance-floor acting out. "Harajuku Girls," an ode to Japanese youth culture’s consumerism, love of designer fashion and fetish for pricey gadgets consolidates the product placement and name dropping that appears throughout the album, especially on the sample-driven R&amp;B spliff "Luxurious." That last number floats atop a purposefully over-familiar lift from the Isley Brothers’ "Between the Sheets" (think Biggie) and, in flawless duplication of the crude hip-hop/soul love songs that have taken over R&amp;amp;B, filters romantic desire through the language of crass materialism. It’s laugh-out-loud funny for being played almost completely straight — especially the French-spoken intro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most immediately affecting song on the album — produced by Dallas Austin, channeling the new-wave gods with a true believer’s devotion (and with an assist from Nellee Hooper) — is "Cool." It’s the latest installation in the ongoing saga of Stefani and ex-boyfriend/still-bandmate, Tony Kanal. With their shattered relationship already being the stuff of many of No Doubt’s best songs — "Don’t Speak," "Simple Kind of Life," "Ex-Girlfriend" — the new song tips a sonic hat to the Cars as Stefani coos lyrics that are both bruised and juiced by the fact of her maintaining a friendship with her former greatest-love-of-all as she embarks on a life with her true true love (husband Gavin Rossdale). In "Cool," Kanal brings his new lady around to meet Stefani, now a dear friend, and the vibe is all love. This is the stuff of not just grown-up life but hard-earned maturity. The two are not mutually exclusive, but they’re far from synonymous and Stefani’s vocals brim with a tenderness that underlines her transition from brokenhearted girl to a woman who’s figured some real shit out: After all the obstacles, it’s good to see you now with someone else/After all that we’ve been through, I know we’re cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only real dud is the closing number, "Long Way To Go," featuring the second vocal and production appearances by André 3000 (billed as Johnny Vulture on the frenetic electro explosion "Bubble Pop Electric"). The duet should have been the 21st-century equivalent of Prince meeting Madonna on "Love Song" from her Like a Prayer album. Not only has L.A.M.B., by this point, been clearly building toward a show-stopping finale but André and Stefani are arguably at the same career zeniths that their musical forbears were when they hooked up in the studio. Instead, this lament at the bigotries faced by interracial couples is a clunky, less cool spinoff of INXS’s "Original Sin." It ultimately collapses beneath the thick, cloying vibe of self-importance that wafts from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, though, there’s a tongue-in-cheek quality to the record, a certain playfulness even in the tunes of moody contemplation. The album bottles the giggly fizz of rifling through your old clothes and photos, trying on assorted past selves that are not yet weighed with disappointment and compromise. Stefani’s neatest trick may well be that, despite being a hugely successful corporate commodity by aim and hard work, and having long ago ceased pining for the simple life, she’s still able to set aside the spreadsheet to reveal the human being at the wheel.&lt;br /&gt;Gwen Stefani Love. Angel. Music. Baby. Interscope Records&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110448417284027200?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110448417284027200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110448417284027200&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110448417284027200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110448417284027200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/12/books-books-books.html' title='Books Books Books'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110361037757124466</id><published>2004-12-20T01:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T22:29:39.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreamscape</title><content type='html'>I’ve been having some very disturbing dreams lately. Well, actually I generally don’t have good dreams but these recent ones are making me want to swear off sleep forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier last week, I had a dream where, for some reason, I had to have surgery. In this surgery, my feet would be cut off (for some unknown reason) and then reattached. I woke up after my surgery and was sitting in a chair under the afghan my mother made for me. All of this sudden, I looked down because my feet felt strange. To my horror, they came loose! Then they ran away! My very own feet abandoned me, and of course I couldn’t chase after them– because I had no feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the middle of the week, I had a nightmare concerning, I suppose one could say, one of my great phobias. Water. In this one, there was a giant wave, a tsunami headed for my house. No one believed me when I told them it was coming, even though I could see the wave in the distance. A wave so big it took up the entire sky. I grabbed my dog and was trying to run away. But every time I turned around, it was getting closer. Finally, the wave crested. We tumbled around under water, and just as I was about to drown, I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I had my most disturbing dreams in ages. But for it to make sense, I think, I have to go back in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in the 5th grade, I think I was about 10, my grandma called with bad news. She had gone out earlier in the day with her friend Helen. In the afternoon, they (my great aunts and uncles, and grandparents) were going to go to the Senior Club. When my grandma, who doesn’t drive, got home from her shopping trip with Helen, she entered the house alone. Helen backed out of the driveway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked around for my grandpa, asking if he was ready to go to the Club. She found him on the bathroom floor, having a seizure. It was Valentine’s Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she called for an ambulance, she called for her sister and brother- in- law. The doctor determined that my grandfather had suffered an aneurism. It was at the base of his brain, and whatever they were doing for him wasn’t helping. He was awake at this point and just wanted to leave the hospital. So they transferred him to UCLA for a fancy schmancy brain surgery. He never woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He contracted pneumonia from an improperly cleaned respirator. Then he slipped into a coma. Three months later he was dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since that happened, every time I get a headache, I have this secret fear that my brain is going to explode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this dream, my mom was visiting me. I went in to the bathroom to throw some water on my face because I felt really bad. But I didn’t want her to know that I felt sick. Then there was a white hot flash and I couldn't see. I put my hands up to my temples because it hurt so bad and fell to the floor. I couldn't move. And I started to scream a blood curdling scream. Then my mother was standing in front of me, shaking her finger at me like I'd been bad. She wouldn’t help me. I kept screaming because I needed help. Then it dawned on me that she probably wasn't real, just a hallucination brought on by a brain bleed or something. I felt hot tears running down my face because I began to think that maybe I wasn't even screaming. Maybe no one could hear me because the sound was in my head. Then my whole body started to shake uncontrollably. No one was coming to help me, and I was going to die in my own bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve never in my life had such a disturbing dream. It felt so real! I actually thought that it was happening. The screaming was ear- piercing. The fear, the pain, it was all so vivid. When I woke up I was almost afraid to move. Where was I? Had it actually happened? Since my ears weren’t bleeding, I figured it had been a nightmare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But knowing that won’t make it any easier to sleep tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110361037757124466?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110361037757124466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110361037757124466&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110361037757124466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110361037757124466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/12/dreamscape.html' title='Dreamscape'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110345693337491129</id><published>2004-12-19T03:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-19T03:48:53.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Little Venus, Dressed Up To Tease Us!</title><content type='html'>ECHOBELLY&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;a name="aap"&gt;Venus wheel&lt;/a&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the city comes alive,When the debonaire are like fire-flies,&lt;br /&gt;See the social satire lives,&lt;br /&gt;See them dance on their beauty at the wheel,&lt;br /&gt;Wonder how it feels,&lt;br /&gt;Wonder how it feels to be you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Dressed up to tease us,&lt;br /&gt;Locked in the room upstairs,&lt;br /&gt;She's combing her hair,&lt;br /&gt;Oh little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Smells of the sweetest,&lt;br /&gt;Dreams of his thunder thighs coming around,&lt;br /&gt;Oh, oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the honey-coated atmosphere,&lt;br /&gt;Now it's new thighs, glam rides latest to gold,&lt;br /&gt;With your hair and the sherbet dip that you taste,&lt;br /&gt;Makes her lost in space,Beauty at the wheel,&lt;br /&gt;Wonder how it feels,Wonder how it feels to be you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Dressed up to tease us,&lt;br /&gt;Locked in the room upstairs,&lt;br /&gt;She's combing her hair,&lt;br /&gt;Oh little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Smells of the sweetest,&lt;br /&gt;Dreams of his thunder thighs coming around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Little little little little little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Don't you know little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Don't you know,Don't you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Dressed up to tease us,&lt;br /&gt;Locked in the room upstairs,&lt;br /&gt;She's combing her hair,&lt;br /&gt;Oh little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Smells of the sweetest,&lt;br /&gt;Dreams of his thunder thighs coming around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Sweet little venus,&lt;br /&gt;Dreams of his thunder thighs coming around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Echobelly was my most favourite band in highschool, and I'm just now rediscovering them.  Check 'em out! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FREEDOM!! I am FREE! Tragic has finished her classes (actually finished them Friday afternoon, but needed time to decompress before even venturing near her arch enemy, the Sony Vaio computer.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Jumps Up And Down**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s almost Christmas! The Christmas spirit is finally upon me. I haven’t been excited like this, in, well, ever. It must be the nearness of graduation making me all giddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the (academic) highlight of the Fall ‘04 semester, as far as I’m concerned. This is what my professor had to say about my presentation on good ol’ Vladimir Lenin:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CONTENT: (possible 20 points) 19&lt;br /&gt;"Excellent presentation of Lenin, his life, influences and legacy. You were able to cover an amazing amount of relevant, well selected facts to present a very full picture of the man and his motivations. You demonstrated a very thorough knowledge of your subject. Excellent primary source material as well."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ORGANIZATION: (possible 20 points) 19&lt;br /&gt;"Very well organized, comprehensive outline, and good use of time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRESENTATION: (possible 10 points) 10&lt;br /&gt;"You did a great job. You seemed very comfortable and confident in front of the class, spoke clearly and articulately, and although you sped through a considerable amount of information, you didn’t convey a sense of being rushed. Excellent job."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total: 48&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m seriously considering framing this piece of paper. It’s a bit wrinkled because it got squished between my binder and "Documents In World History."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been dying to tell you all about what I had for lunch on Friday. My dad and I went to Sonny’s Vietnamese Restaurant for lunch. After the earlier exuberance of the day (no mas finals) I decided to be adventurous, and ordered the Barbecued quail for lunch. The quail comes to the table soaked in bacardi rum. Then the waiter lights the alcohol on fire, holds the quail between two spoons, and precedes to cook it at the table!!! I’m pleased to report that my adventurous spirit was rewarded on that day, as I enjoyed my quail very, very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep hearing from a certain politician that we are in an economic recovery. Really, are you sure about that? My neighborhood is beginning to look a lot like East Berlin after the Wall came down. Quite a few of the businesses near here have gone under.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was little, there was a restaurant called Niko’s almost right around the corner from my house. From the beginning of (my) time, Niko’s was there. He made the best pancakes in the history of pancake making. These pancakes were better than the ones at International House of Pancakes. They were better than the pancakes at Bill’s. They were even better than my mom’s!! (sorry mom) My dad would take me there on weekends before garage sales or trips to electronics stores. I’d always get the short stack and hot cocoa. Always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right around 6th grade though, Niko announced that he was closing up shop. He was getting old and tired, and his children did not want to inherit his business. So he sold it. The new owners were also Greek, and were going to keep the same menu with a few Greek items thrown in for good measure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it wasn’t the same. The pancakes just weren’t as good. Two, maybe three years later, they went out of business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next incarnation of the late, great Niko’s was a Clark’s Burger. It was sort of like a gourmet burger joint, and you really paid through the nose. A cheeseburger, fries, and shake could run you $15. This nice Asian family had bought this particular franchise and made a pretty successful go at it, especially considering that there was a McDonald’s right across the street. (A place where you could probably get the same lunch for under $5.) But sure enough, disaster struck. The Clark’s Burger franchise hit hard times, and closed several locations. The owners were given an option, they could close or keep going– but without the "Clark’s Burger" in their name. Never wanting to say die, that family kept going. Prices went up. Everytime we went there after they lost the franchise, the burgers always had a red middle. Every. Single. Time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they went out of business, the building sat empty. We began to wonder if anything would ever open in it’s place. It’s current incarnation is a coffee shop called Leo’s, specializing in all sorts of bland, over cooked foods that my grandmother likes. Around last Christmas, it closed for two months. ‘Another one bites the dust’, all we observers in the neighborhood thought. Strangely, however, it reopened in February. Then again, around Cinco de Mayo, it closed. The sign still says "Leo’s", yet not a soul has entered since then. It is a mystery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Across the street, in another shopping center, it’s a similar story. Although there is a very successful Columbian restaurant in that plaza, others have not been so fortunate. At first, there was a Denny’s there. Denny’s lasted for awhile. It was there before my time, and lasted until I was 7 or so. You know if Denny’s can’t make it, anyone else is going to face a serious uphill battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Following the Denny’s, that location became home to a establishment known as the Honeycomb. The menu was Chinese and American (whatever that means nowadays.) That lasted for perhaps 4 or 5 years.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t even remember what was there after the Honeycomb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past 7 years the old Denny’s became home to Tina’s. Another one of those so- bland- you could- just die places. They had good hot cocoa and that was about it. The only thing I can figure is that all the inhabitants from the Old Folks home on the nearby hill patronised it often. Tina’s went out of business about months ago. My dad and have been very curious about what would be the next resident of a so far, doomed location.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We watched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago I saw a banner appear on the expressway side of the plaza, advertising the coming of "The Original Pancake House." I was intrigued, although I’d never heard of the chain. Today my dad and I went there, for lunch. It was the first day the place was open for business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided on the Dutch Baby, my dad got the Apple Pancake. The Dutch Baby is a cake like pancake (I’m not kidding, very thick, like cake, and baked in the oven.) It comes with 3 lemon wedges, a saucer of butter, and a saucer of powdered sugar on the side. I’m not much of a butter girl, so I only used maybe a tablespoon. (I know that sounds like a lot but you have to see this pancake! It was bigger than my head!) Of course, remember who you’re reading here, I did use all of the powdered sugar. Also, I used two of the lemon wedges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how some advertisements promise that a particular food will "melt in your mouth"? This is the heaven of the Dutch Baby, for it actually melted in my mouth! ‘Twas a wonderful dining meal: such yumminess is rarely had by Tragic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dutch Baby: Five Stars&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you all have full tummies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110345693337491129?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110345693337491129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110345693337491129&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110345693337491129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110345693337491129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/12/oh-little-venus-dressed-up-to-tease-us.html' title='Oh Little Venus, Dressed Up To Tease Us!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110314447143040317</id><published>2004-12-15T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-15T13:15:00.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What can I get for $3?</title><content type='html'>Trapped in a Box&lt;br /&gt;No Doubt&lt;br /&gt;(E. Stefani, T. Dumont, G. Stefani, T. Kanal)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box of tremendous size&lt;br /&gt;It distorts my vision, it closes my eyes&lt;br /&gt;Attracts filthy flies and pollutes in the skies&lt;br /&gt;Sucks up our lives and proliferates lies&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box, four walls as sky&lt;br /&gt;Got a screen for a window about two feet wide&lt;br /&gt;My mind rides and slides as my circuits are fried&lt;br /&gt;No room for thought, use the box as my guide&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box&lt;br /&gt;Watch the world as it flocks&lt;br /&gt;To life’s paradox&lt;br /&gt;We’re all trapped in a box&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box I’m not alone&lt;br /&gt;I know of others with a box as their home&lt;br /&gt;Light only enters from a crack or a hole&lt;br /&gt;This is not enough for a human to grow&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box&lt;br /&gt;Watch the world as it flocks&lt;br /&gt;To life's paradox&lt;br /&gt;We're all trapped in a box&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always wanting a different view&lt;br /&gt;Instant gratification for you&lt;br /&gt;Reality gone in a single click&lt;br /&gt;Just hope that that switch won’t stick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box my life becomes void&lt;br /&gt;All I thought for myself is now destroyed&lt;br /&gt;Controlling my mind, what to eat, what to buy&lt;br /&gt;Subliminal rules: how to live, how to die&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trapped in a box&lt;br /&gt;Watch the world as it flocks&lt;br /&gt;To life's paradox&lt;br /&gt;We're all trapped in a box&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I definitely felt like I was trapped in my freakin' computer yesterday.  That's what I get for waiting till the last minute to write my paper for History 105A.  Our professor, instead of giving us an old fashioned course reader-- on paper, decided to give it to us on a cd.  Now, I'm sure you can all guess I'm not very tech savvy just by looking at my blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't get the freakin' thing to work on this computer.  So I tried it in the laptop.  It made all sorts or clackety clack racket when I put it in the drive.  The, my laptop informed me that I first needed to install some new word processor on the laptop before I could look at  the files.  And before I could do that, I had to provide some 25 digit authentication code.  All of that took an hour.  When I finally was able to read the finals on my laptop, I only had three hours left for my paper.  &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;What a DISASTER!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;After all of that, I was definitely ready to smash my computer into smithereens and go Amish.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was supposed to have lunch with my mom. Usually we have lunch on Tuesdays, but I had to reschedule yesterday after this computer and my laptop conspired to drive me insane. I woke up, laid in some new colour, deep conditioned my hair, showered, and prepared to face the world with impossible cute hair. (Which is only fair since I felt like a fat cow for most of yesterday.) Noon rolled around. 12:15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe she forgot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called and she asked "Ohh. Did you get my message?" Sigh. No lunch for Tragic today. At least not anything yummy. I managed to round up $3, all in quarters, collected from coat pockets and piggy banks. Hmmm. McDonalds or Burger King? Which will it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided on Burger King.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a horde of teenagers in front of me, who seemed to be ordering enough to feed the infantry. When it was finally my turn to order, I chose a large fries and something called a rodeo cheeseburger. Now, I haven't had a burger in, literally, years. I admit that a rodeo cheeseburger sounds rather dubious, but it was only 99 cents. That's why I picked it. I paid my $3 and received a dime in change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case any one was wondering what a rodeo cheeseburger is, here ya go. It is a bun, a burger patty, cheese, barbecue sauce, and two onion rings. Hmm. I only 3/4 of it and half of my fries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I have two finals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Study of Religion: 7:15am - 9:45am&lt;br /&gt;Ancient Near East: 12:00 - 2:45pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you all have full tummies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110314447143040317?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110314447143040317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110314447143040317&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110314447143040317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110314447143040317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/12/what-can-i-get-for-3.html' title='What can I get for $3?'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110301493430868865</id><published>2004-12-14T01:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-14T01:04:25.996-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Fallin' Fast, Like an Avalanche</title><content type='html'>Big Distraction&lt;br /&gt;NO DOUBT&lt;br /&gt;(G. Stefani, T. Dumont)&lt;br /&gt;Everything In Time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're my concentration&lt;br /&gt;Everything else is a bore&lt;br /&gt;I've got myself snagged on you&lt;br /&gt;No self-control now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that I want to do&lt;br /&gt;Sleep in the shadow of you&lt;br /&gt;For the rest of my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we can chisel&lt;br /&gt;Chisel off built up walls&lt;br /&gt;Of pain deposited from past lovers&lt;br /&gt;Memories they can sleep&lt;br /&gt;And we can live comfortably&lt;br /&gt;For the rest of our lives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrong or right&lt;br /&gt;Shipwrecked into you&lt;br /&gt;Situation is foolish&lt;br /&gt;Put up a fight&lt;br /&gt;You're my big distraction&lt;br /&gt;Obvious companion&lt;br /&gt;I'm falling fast&lt;br /&gt;Like an avalanche&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indentured servant&lt;br /&gt;A slave to a slave&lt;br /&gt;Thank God for my hopeful heart&lt;br /&gt;and for mutual feelings&lt;br /&gt;Look how it's balanced now&lt;br /&gt;Maybe we'll just settle down&lt;br /&gt;For the rest of our lives&lt;br /&gt;Wrong or right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shipwrecked into you&lt;br /&gt;Situation is foolish&lt;br /&gt;Put up a fight&lt;br /&gt;You're my big distraction&lt;br /&gt;Obvious companion&lt;br /&gt;I'm falling fast&lt;br /&gt;Like an avalanche&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look how it's balanced now&lt;br /&gt;Maybe we'll just settle down&lt;br /&gt;For the rest of our lives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good evening to you , my worthy friends! How have you all been? I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted lately! Well, just so you know, I typed this all up last night only for blogger dot com to delete it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend was spent typing up a 19 page paper for my writing workshop. In addition to those 19 pages, there were 5 pages or bibliography. As a nursing major, I took Health Professions 100W, which I got a B in. (Which, I may point out, was an academic success only surpassed [ in the nursing program, anyway] by the B+ I got in Nursing Theory.]) Anyway, one can imagine my disappointment when Dr. Roth, undergraduate advisor to we history majors, that I’d have to take History 100W.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phuong told me that History 100W wasn’t worth worrying about to much. But she had sweet, wonderful Dr. Asnes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew from the first day of class, back in the heat of August, that we were in for it. Lisa, Alexandro and I knew from day one this guy was going to be a hard ass. Through the whole semester, class only met 6 times. Six! He’s supposed to be teaching us how to write academic quality papers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally, according to the green sheet, these were the point totals:&lt;br /&gt;Class Participation: 20%&lt;br /&gt;Primary Source Paper: 10%&lt;br /&gt;First Draft: 10%&lt;br /&gt;3 5-page book analyses: 15%&lt;br /&gt;Final Paper: 45%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By our third class meeting in November, however, he changed the requirements. He made one book report extra credit, making the other two book reports worth 7.5%. I did all my work except for the analyses of Free Frank. But I never got any of that completed work back. I never got my first book analyses back, I never got my outline or primary source paragraph back, and I never even got my first draft back. All I got was a 3 sentence email saying: this paper is not sufficient to earn a passing grade in this class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to today. All we had to do today was turn in our final papers. Phuong and I were going to wait for Lisa and all go out for lunch. But Lisa called to say that she was running late. Kevin, Phuong’s crush of almost two years, had just turned in his own paper and stopped to chat with us in the hall. After almost half an hour of bitching about our professor and the way he ran the class, Phuong managed to very slyly invite him out for lunch with us. ("Hey, we’re going to Japanese food for lunch, right now, yeah..... if you wanted to come.... with us?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, before Tony abandoned us for his bitchy, dyed red hair girlfriend, we would all sit around Phuong’s kitchen table, coronas in hand, and ponder this situation. (Phuong’s parents, like my dad, do not approve of the consumption of alcoholic beverages in the home, so we’d have to wait until the wee hours to crack open the bottles.) Almost a year ago, Phuong marshaled all of her courage, went up to Kevin, and asked him for his phone number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this is what he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I would say yes– but I’m in transition with someone right now, and don’t really comfortable doing that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of the conclusions that our group has come to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lisa B.: He’s a racist! He must hate Asian chicks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony: He’s a dumbass like Kelso! He’s Kelso from That 70's Show! An older, balding Kelso!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Donnie: He’s gay! He’s into dudes, man! That’s the problem!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miraculously, the gay racist decided to come out with us. We walked to where Phuong parked, which was between one of the frat houses and one of the half way houses– the particular geography which make the neighbourhood around school so interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat in the back seat so the two of them could chat. We went to Niko sushi, where one can eat all she can for only $9.95. Phuong treated me, which was really sweet of her. (And also very lucky. I didn’t have any cash on me because I haven’t had a chance to sell two of my books from 100W back to Roberts’.) I had a glass of water since lunch was on Phuong’s dime, lots of fried rice, those tempura veggies, and some sushi. It was quite yummy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we paid, we sat in out booth for at least another hour. Phuong and Kevin actually talked quite a bit. They talked about politics (which seemed rather a risky proposition to me so soon into whatever this is between them), music, the death penalty (re: Scott Peterson), the best way to double major, obtaining a teaching credential, and highschool.&lt;br /&gt;I’m the wildest friend that Phuong has. Kevin mentioned that he had a purple mohawk in highschool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You had a mowhawk??" "Yeah, I had a mohawk in highschool" he restated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You had a mohawk!!!" She asked, astounded, once again. It is rather difficult to imagine, since he has lost some of the hair on top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Phuong got up to get us more tempura, he and I discussed the best techniques to obtaining the best height in one’s mohawk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin has two brothers. One of them is married, to a Mormon chick. They have three kids (so far anyway.) We got on the topic of kids names when Phuong sighed and said "It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m never going to marry or have any kids anyway. I’m always going to be alone." To which Kevin replied "Here goes Captain Negative again! You’re 23! You’ve got plenty of time! You’ve gotta just swallow your pride– put yourself out there! Don’t be afraid of rejection!" Then he got up to get more sushi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phuong turned to me and said real low "take a chance– put your self out there! What a bunch of crap! I did that already, or doesn’t he remember."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lisa called Phuong on her cell right then. She wouldn’t be meeting us for lunch, but had some interesting news nevertheless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lisa had just turned in her final paper, and asked the professor from hell if she could turn in her book analyses late. (He takes Nancy Regan’s attitude toward late work ["Just Say NO!]) His answer was this:&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I’m not really going to count any of the other work you guys did in class. What you get on this final paper will be your grade in class."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excuse me..... WHAT? WHAT???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does a paper jump from 45% to 100% of your grade? A green sheet is supposed to be the professors contract with the student. Damn him. Anyway, at least we can contest our final grades if he fails us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tired now! Must sleep. Will post part two tomorrow perhaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Tragic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110301493430868865?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110301493430868865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110301493430868865&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110301493430868865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110301493430868865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/12/im-fallin-fast-like-avalanche.html' title='I&apos;m Fallin&apos; Fast, Like an Avalanche'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110253623700683087</id><published>2004-12-08T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-08T12:03:57.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Finals!</title><content type='html'>Here is my Final Schedule:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;African History (Before 1800): December 14- 5:15pm- 7:30pm&lt;br /&gt;Study of Religion: December 16- 7:15am- 9:30am&lt;br /&gt;Ancient Near East: December 16- 12:15pm- 2:30&lt;br /&gt;History 1A: December 17- 7:15am- 9:30am&lt;br /&gt;History 1B: December 17- 9:45am- 12:45pm&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/7710076-110253623700683087?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110253623700683087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110253623700683087&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110253623700683087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110253623700683087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/12/finals.html' title='Finals!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110249324442462841</id><published>2004-12-08T01:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-08T00:07:24.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This just in!!</title><content type='html'>No Doubt has been nominated in the Best Pop Performance By A Duo Or Group category for "It's My Life" from The Singles 1992-2003 collection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gwen was also nominated in the Best Female Pop Performance category for her debut single "What You Waiting For?". The awards ceremony will take place on Sunday, February 13th, at the Staples Center in Los Angeles and will be broadcast live on CBS from 8 – 11:30 p.m. (EST/PST).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, congratulations to Jacques Lu Cont who has been nominated for Best Remixed Recording for his Thin White Duke Mix of "It's My Life" and to Toots &amp; The Maytals who have been nominated for Best Reggae Album for True Love which features No Doubt on the track "Monkey Man".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CONGRATULATIONS to NO DOUBT!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110249324442462841?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110249324442462841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110249324442462841&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110249324442462841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110249324442462841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/12/this-just-in.html' title='This just in!!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110193186230987314</id><published>2004-12-01T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-01T18:55:51.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Life is Short, You're Capable"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;How was everyone's Thanksgiving? Mine was fine. I got a super late start on the pumpkin pies though. Even though it's always been my responsibility since I was 10 or so to make the pies, I don't know the recipe as well as one might assume I did. You know where I'm going with this, don't you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I put the sugar in first, then the eggs, then the milk. But as I scanned down the recipe I realised my mistake. I'd used white sugar instead of brown sugar. Oops! I tried fishing out the white sugar with a spoon but it was dissolving too fast. Since it was so late, it wasn't like I could go back to the grocery store and buy more ingrediants. Maybe it was the fatigue setting in, but I decided the best solution to the problem was to add the proper amount of brown sugar. So instead of one and a cups of sugar, I had twice that. I crossed my fingers and hoped no one would notice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Why I thought I could pull this off, I have no clue. I once accidently used a half a tablespoon of cinnamon instead of one tablespoon, and my grandma noticed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Thanksgiving dinner went well. No one really noticed the extra sugar in the pies, thankfully. We had all the usual foods, turkey, mashed potatoes, yams, stuffing, string beans, etc. My entire life, I have heard my grandmother say "This is the LAST year I'm making the cranberry salad!" Yet every year, there it is. I don't touch the stuff myself. Her cranberry salad never seems to hold the shape of the jello mold. Usually this isn't a big deal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Unless, of course, my grandma's sister comes to dinner. Then all Hell breaks lose. My great-aunt swears it's the same recipe. Yet, by some miracle of physics, only my grandma's cranberry salad refuses to hold its shape. Somehow the structural integrity of the cranberry salad **inevitably** fails.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;What all the fuss is about is beyond me. Bleh!! There should not be a dessert featuring cranberries. Ick! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Four years ago, I invited my then-boyfriend to our families Thanksgiving dinner. I had my doubts about the quality of this idea. Why the hell would I take such a finicky vegetarian to my family's dinner? He had everything that was meat free. On the way to his family's dinner in Placerville, he had the nerve to complain about my grandma's cooking. "Who puts olives in stuffing??" he bitched the whole way there. 'Excuse me?' I thought, 'You don't even know how to scramble eggs.' Hmf!! After one of the longest drives in my entire life-- he had a habit of whistling off key to whatever music was on-- we finally made it to his sister's house. They had kept some plates warm for us, which was sweet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;But imagine my horror when I took the tin foil off my plate. The dressing looked rather peculiar to me, but I was determined to be a better sport than he had been at my family's dinner. I took a bite, and to my horror, tasted cranberries! Eew!! I slowly worked at what suddenly became a Mt. Everest sized mound of stuffing-- chock full or cherries and cranberries.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;The next day, on the way home I couldn't help myself. "Who the HELL puts cherries and cranberries in stuffing!?" I asked, voice full of disdain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;**Tragic Tuyen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110193186230987314?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110193186230987314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110193186230987314&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110193186230987314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110193186230987314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/12/life-is-short-youre-capable.html' title='&quot;Life is Short, You&apos;re Capable&quot;'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110075665161920507</id><published>2004-11-17T21:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-17T21:44:11.620-08:00</updated><title type='text'>**bleh**</title><content type='html'>For the past two days I've had the same headache.  It keeps getting worse and worse.  I can't help but wonder if I can suffer permanent brain damage from something like this.  I haven't had a headache since the least doozy that got me back in July.  **bleh**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad gave me a flexeril, since I don't have any of my own.  I broke it in half though because I have classes tomorrow.  One flexeril will knock me out for like 18 hours.  Plus, I have a quiz tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At LEAST I got my paper on Lenin done over the weekend.  I feel nauseated.  My parents gave me bad DNA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;take care, gentle readers.  &lt;3    Tragic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110075665161920507?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110075665161920507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110075665161920507&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110075665161920507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110075665161920507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/11/bleh.html' title='**bleh**'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-110054629598390835</id><published>2004-11-15T11:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-15T11:18:15.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Update</title><content type='html'>It's been awhile since I've posted.  I've been absolutely drowning in school work and can't wait for this semester to be over.  I've written four papers so far this semester, and I've got five more to write.  Yikes.  I'm going to have to buy a new ink cartridge for the printer.  Not only that but I was looking at all my green sheets earlier this semester and I've got 4 finals on one day!!  Hopefully I can pity one of my professors into taking one another day.  According to University regulations, a student may not take more than three finals on one day anyway.  Hope every one is well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Tragic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-110054629598390835?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/110054629598390835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=110054629598390835&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110054629598390835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/110054629598390835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/11/little-update.html' title='Little Update'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109929564063405769</id><published>2004-10-31T23:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-01T00:01:30.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Not So Bad, Being Dead Like Me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;One more hour left of Halloween. When I was a kid I loved my birthday, but I think most kids do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Got back around 9pm after having dinner with my friends. The time change is screwing with us. Phuong's birthday present to me was a sack full of groceries-- ice cream, soup, rice-a-roni, etc. She said "I was trying to think-- what does she need....what does she need? And then I though, *duh* she needs food 'cuz she's always sick." We were supposed to get Japanese food, but most of us were too poor to do that. So instead, we went to some place called something like "Sweet Tomato". It wasn't bad. While we were there my side started to hurt again. I just tried to hold as still as possible. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Phuong treated me because it was my birthday. There were tons of little kids there, for some reason. Hello? Why aren't you guys out getting candy? All those kids were making so much noise that, even though they were clear across the restaurant we could hear tehir shrieks. Being a Vietnamese speaker herself, Phuong recognised their language.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Jesus, that must be the battle cry of the Viet Cong!" Phuong said as she craned her neck about, trying to get a good look at the hell raisers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;We all started cracking up at that. "I feel like yelling at them like my Grandpa used to! He was sooo scary! He'd yell at us in Vietnamese 'Shut up, you little Satans!'" Then she said in Vietnamese too, at which point, Adrian proclaimed it to be the scariest sounding Vietnamese phrase he'e ever heard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;We got back to our meals and were talking about Tony and Lara (hand to god I didn't bring those two up.) See, Tony owes Phuong $64 for the baseball game on Sept. 14, and he owes me $10 from when we all saw "The Village." As we were talking this older lady walked by and quitely said something to me, and I quietly thanked her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Adrian asked me what she said because he hadnt heard. "Oh, she said that she liked my costume." Lisa, Phuong, and Adrian busted out laughing. Adrian actually almost squirted his soda through his nose. Phuong was laughing so hard that she was almost crying. "I can catch her if you want me to, man! I got your back. She's moving pretty slow..." Adrian managed to get out between laughs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;See, this time of year is always tricky. There are always all these well meaning people who tell me that they like my costume, which is sweet. Yet in actuality, this is just the way I dress all the time. For example, on Tuesday, this middle aged African American lady stopped me on my way to Ancient Near East studies and told me that she loved my costume and then asked "What are you supposed to be?" When presented with situations like these, I have two general responses. The first is to thanks the person for the compliment on my "costume" and walk on. The second is to say "Ohhh..... this is just how I dress, like, all the time." The second response tends to fluster people and then they start apologising or whatever. I chose response #2 for the lady who stopped me at school. She stopped walking, looked at me quizzically and said "But... you hair... it's pink!" To which I responded that I'd had it this color since October 2002 (for the Rock Steady Tour, if you must know.) After that she just said "Well, you look very nice, dear" and walked away in the other direction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;After we left the restaurant, Phuong drove me home. Adrian and Lisa had been to some big party on Saturday night, and were still worn out. Lisa was hung over, but Adrian was just tired. He can't drink for along time anyway because he hurt his liver or something. Phuong had gone on a quasi- date with her crush of 2 years on Santa Cruz last night. So while everyone was out having a blast on Saturday night, I was home. Odd girl out. Anyway, on my birthday I was home by 9pm, give or take.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I can't help but feel like a younger, punkier version of Bridget Jones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;. Maybe I just should have stayed home anyway, not gone out at all, and just cried into my vanilla vodka (a little tiny bottle like the kind they used to give out on airplanes-- except I paid $2.75 for this at Beverages &amp;amp; More up in Oakland.) I wanted to go the anti social route. But, I have been far too much like Ada Monroe in "Cold Mountain" lately.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;"Her thoughts had been broody and morbid and excessively retrospective for so long that she welcomed the chance to run counter to that flow, to cast forward and think about the future, even though she expected to see nothing but water at the bottom of that well." ("Cold Mountain" by Charles Frazier, p. 48.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Let's see. Broody? check. Morbid? check. Excessively retrospective? check. In the immortal words of Nelly Furtado "It's not that my glass is empty/ I just need another cup." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;And yet, I guess I just haven't given up quite yet. Even though fate and change keep slapping me in the face, maybe I, like Ada want to run counter to that flow. Maybe I just prefer to hide my hopefullness under my cloak of doom and gloom. Maybe it's just a reaction to being alone for so much of the day-- day after day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;I don't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;"She could read such books and a day later not know what they had been about. When she had read more notable books, the harsh fates of their heroines only served to deepen her gloom. For a time, every book she plucked from the shelves frightened her, their contents all concerning mistakes made by wretched dark- haired women so that they ended their days punished, exiled, and alien." (Frazier, p. 35.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Alien? check. Exiled? sort of. Punished? Let's hope not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Happy Halloween, Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109929564063405769?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109929564063405769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109929564063405769&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109929564063405769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109929564063405769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/10/its-not-so-bad-being-dead-like-me.html' title='It&apos;s Not So Bad, Being Dead Like Me.'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109874526355320371</id><published>2004-10-25T15:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-25T16:03:10.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What will it take?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;My birthday is coming up. I'm a Halloween baby. I've been secretly dreading this particular birthday because of one reason-- my ex-boyfriend. In the five and a half years that we were together, I never got a birthday card, Christmas card, or Valentine's card. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did I find in my mail box today? Eight months after I broke up with him?? I didn't open it, but I assume it was a birthday card. Here's the kicker-- it was taped to some old card I sent him back in 2000. Probably some twisted attempt to get me back. But I've been free of him for too long to go back now. Besides, why would I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will it take for him to leave me alone? How much longer do I have to worry everytime I hear a loud noise outside, or hear the door bell ring? How many more abusive/ suicidal e-mails will I have to get from him before he gets it?!? Christ, it's been 8 months!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't allowed to hang out with my own friends outside of school for the whole time I was with him. When I made really good friends, (such as Phuong and Lisa) after we broke up, I used to joke with them. Well, sort of. I used to say that if anything ever happened to me, if I ever just disappeared, that they should tell the police it was my ex-boyfriend. The sad thing was that I actually meant it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 tragic tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109874526355320371?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109874526355320371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109874526355320371&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109874526355320371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109874526355320371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/10/what-will-it-take.html' title='What will it take?'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109840406036291874</id><published>2004-10-21T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-23T03:30:14.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Napoleon and Bronislaw will have their revenge!</title><content type='html'>SOMETIMES&lt;br /&gt;No Doubt(T. Dumont, G. Stefani, E. Stefani, T. Kanal)&lt;br /&gt;No Doubt (1992)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes sunshine&lt;br /&gt;Does not want to shine on me&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes I find myself blind&lt;br /&gt;At first I cannot see and then I see it's me&lt;br /&gt;I chose a road when I was young&lt;br /&gt;In search of fun temptations won&lt;br /&gt;And all my soul I did surrender&lt;br /&gt;If I had a chance to back now&lt;br /&gt;Would I redeem my moral vows&lt;br /&gt;Or would I repeat for my own laughter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I hide somewhat&lt;br /&gt;Like a bulb behind a shade&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes I ask myself why&lt;br /&gt;Is it cause the lights are too bright&lt;br /&gt;Or because my eyes are closed too tight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I find myself blind&lt;br /&gt;Don't use my brain don't use my mind&lt;br /&gt;Distorted feelings always leading my way&lt;br /&gt;But I must forgive myself&lt;br /&gt;And let the past lay down to rest&lt;br /&gt;And be prepared to face myself in another day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From now on I will behave&lt;br /&gt;But in the back of my mind I will be enslaved&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I was just thinking to myself how exhasting it is to go to all my classes-- and then I realised that I actually missed Study of Religion on Monday morning. I did make it to Ancient Near East class though, where I finally turned in my thesis and bibliography a week late. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Monday night I re-pinked my hair and added teeny tiny little purple highlights in the blonde highlights. Also I frantically studied for my two map midterms on Tuesday morning. The only way I could come up with to study them was to actually trace them and add all the cities and empires with colored pencils. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;When Tuesday morning came I felt the weight of impending academic doom. I crawled out from under my covers and peered out the window. It was a downpour outside and it still looked like night time. The sun was hiding behind the massive black rain clouds. Wearing thermals under my red and black bondage pants, long sleeves, a sweater, and my green jacket with the faux fur lining around the hood which makes me look like a pink haired eskimo. To brighten up the dark morning, I also pinned in a tangerine colored flower in my hair amongst the blonde sections. (It doesn't look as tacky as it sounds! I *promise*!) I couldn't find my zebra print umbrella or my red plaid umbrella. So I had to take a plain old black one. Hmf. I opened the front door and was greeted by an icy wind. Sincerely doubting that both of my midterms would be called on account of stormy weather, I patted my dog on the head and yanked the front door closed against the winter. When I got to school, the downpour had turned into a monsoon. The cold rain was assaulting me from every direction. By the time I got to class, I was soaked from the knee down. I did see one other girl worse off than me though. She was wearing.... get ready, shorts and flip flops and a short sleeve shirt. Damn, what weather report did she see?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;There were 10 maps we had to know, and 4 would be on the test. The 4 which were on the test for World History 1A: The Empires of Southwest Asia and North East Africa (1570- 1250 B.C.E.), Ashoka's Empire in India (250 B.C.E.), Persian/ Peloponessian Wars (480- 479 B.C.E.), and Classical Shang China (1800- 1025 B.C.E.) The One that was most difficult for me was the Persian/ Peloponessian Wars maps. The other three were actually pretty easy. On the Empires map, though, I was frantically trying to remember which river was the Euphrates and which was the Tigris. I changed my answers back and forth twice but I think I got it right. The Tigris is farther East, is what I remembered, so here's hoping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;In World History 1B the map selection was as follows: Spanish and Portuguese Conquest in the New World (1492- 1550), Reformation Europe, Asian Empires (1300- 1700), and The Empire of Napoleon in Europe (1812). I breezed through the first three easily enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;But, wait just a sec! Napoleon! Sh*t! I was completely dumbfounded. Thankfully, it wasn't just a fill in the blank kind of map. There was a bank of geographical terms to choose from. That sinking feeling slowly returned. I used to get it all the time in Organic Chem and Inorganic Chem (the two classes which are responsible for me not having a 3.5 gpa.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Sigh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Waterloo? Austerlitz? Marengo? Freakin' Napoleon, man. Screwing wth people from beyond the grave. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I'm pretty sure the only two I got right were the Illyrian Provinces and Trafalgar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;My Mom drove up from Hollister so that we could have lunch. We went to Hukilau in Japantown. It's a Hawaiian themed restaurant smack dab in the middle of the biggest concentration of Japanese restaurants in town. I ordered a fruit punch, spam musubu, and the hukilau chicken special. My mom and I shared the spam musubu. What that is-- I know it sounds strange but you've really gotta trust me and take a leap of faith here-- spam surrounded my steamed rice and held together by that seaweed paper stuff. It's like sushi-- but with spam in the middle. That's the closest my mother will ever come to eating sushi. I was pretty much full after the appetizer so I brought my chicken home. They give you so much food at Hukilau-- a bunch of marinated chicken, macaroni salad, two scoops of steamed rice, and noodles. See, lots! Anyway, I ended up bringing back almost all of my food. Maybe I'll have it tonight if I get hungry enough. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;As we were leaving the restaurant, the rain stopped and the sun came out a little. But it was still hella windy. When we got back to my mom's car, I realised my brand new flower was gone. (Not a real flower, a fake one made from fabric but still quite pretty.) I back tracked three blocks, scouring the streets and side walks. All the trees on Jackson Street were losing their leaves because of the wind-- burnt orange leaves falling and swirling about around me. Almost all the way back to Hukilau I spooted my flower. It was in the gutter, sitting atop a pile of leaves and hadn't gotten muddy at all. I crossed the street rather suddenly, crouched behind the car and fetched my flower. Apparently, the driver of the car didn't know I was there because he started up and nearly reversed his car right over me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Later on in the afternoon I had to make my way back to SJSU for my Africa before 1800 class. Since I've been sorta sick on and off I've missed quite a few classes. Walking down the hall of Dudley Morehead Hall I was gripped with the anxiety I hadn't had since I was a freshman, lo those many years ago. I stuck my pink head in class after class, looking for familiar faces. Finally I found my destination. Danh, mi amigo, informed me that we had a test next week and that we'd also got out first tests back. Africa class goes from 6pm to 8:45. We get our break around 7pm. Even though I told him he didn't need to, he ventured out into the rain to make me copied of his notes for the days that I'd missed. Dr. Kline gave me back my map quiz and my midterm. I got a perfect score on the map quiz. When I got back to my seat, though, I looked at my midterm. I'd earned a perfect score on the essay but missed a few on the multiple choice portion. I added up the two number and got... a 68?! Wait a minute, a D?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;How could I get a D? History is supposed to be what I'm good at. I meekly folded my test and put it my back pack. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;We had a documentary to watch during the second portion of class. Remember when I said that I wasn't going to bitch to my friends about feeling sick anymore? Well I've been holding to that. Telling Lisa and Danh that I'm perfectly fine-- just trying to get over a pesky cough. Well, during the movie I leaned back in my desk and felt that horrible *pop* on my left side. 'oh no.' When I moved one more time, trying to get comfy it happened again. So I decided that I just wouldn't move anymore during class. I was looking at my professor, pen in hand when it happened. Everything got really bright and my hands went numb, and I dropped my pen. This must be what people mean when they say "seeing stars." I felt really light headed- all I "saw" was whiteness. It didn't last very long and when it was over, I leaned over to grab my pen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;When I got home I recalculated my midterm grade and came up with 88. Relief! Somehow I'd misplaced 20 points in my first calculation. I can cope with a B+. Getting home at 8:45 pm makes it tough to get going on other projects/ papers. Nevertheless, I had to write a paper and speech about Bronislaw Malinowki. I'd gotten my library books on Sunday but they only had three of the six books they were supposed to have by Malinowski. The paper had to be anywhere from 6- 10 pages. Usually I'm one of those annoying people who will always have the maximum number of pages allowable for my paper. But this paper was very challenging for me to write. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I was already tired when I started my paper. But by 3am, I'd only written in Bibliography and four and a half pages of the body. There was no way I could keep going. Every sentence was an uphill struggle. I was sitting in this very same, slightly uncomfortable office chair pecking one key at a time. I was mispelling "the"! So I decided to call it quits. At 3:45 or so, I limped back to bed with my loyal dog trailing behind me. I set my alarm clock for 7am so I could finish my paper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Wednesday morning came far too early. Imanaged to pound out some sort of conclusion for my last page of the paper and sped to school so as not to be late for my speech. Half way to class, I realised that I'd forgotten my umbrella. I contemplated going back for it, but then I'd be late for class and therefore my speech. Swearing under my breath, I walked to class and hoped that the dark gray sky wouldn't open up and drench me. With each inhalation the cold air hurt my nose and chest. By the time I get to the Business Building, my nose is running. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Usually when students have to do speeches, the teacher will talk to the class first. You know, warm up the audience so to speak. Not so with Prof. Jochim. He just handed the class over to me at 9am *sharp*. With my notes and three books in hand, I shakily walked to the front of the class. My speech was supposed to be 15 minutes-- at least. I had no idea how I was going to fill up so much time. But I managed to talk for at least 18 minutes. After mentioning "The Coral Gardens," "The Argonauts of the Western Pacific," and "The Father In Primitive Psychology," and writing certain names and key phrases on the whiteboard, I was done. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;But then Prof. Jochim asked if there were any questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;In the back row, this really smart ass student raised his hand. He's a talker. He's like that Dr. Benton character on "ER", except he's got slightly bigger hair. He started out by asking me "Define the holistic approach in regards to Malinowski's thesis......" and then he kept talking. And talking. I couldn't even keep up with what he was asking me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;As I stood there, in front of 20 people who I barely knew, time seemed to slow down. I knew, somewhere in my mind, that this moment couldn't last forever. He couldn't keep talking forever, at some point he would have to stop to breathe. I was standing below the metal attachement for the projection screen. Watching his mouth move, forming ever more complicated questions, I began to pray for it to fall and hit me on the head. I mean, accidents happen all the time right? Surely this is a great time for such a thing to happen. 'Fall, fall, fall!' I thought. Or maybe one of those business majors would go on a shooting spree and I would get grazed by a bullet. They are a *very* twitchy bunch-- all that nicotine and caffiene. Or maybe a bullet would hit the know it all in that big feakin' mouth of his. But none of those things happened. I blinked a few times and started to answer his question, or tried to anyway. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Then Prof. Jochim asked me a question that went something like "How did Malinowski's approach towards religion lead to a different frame of interpretation regarding world religions?" After a brief coughing fit, that wasn't planned for a distraction, I cobbled together somthing about marriage rituals, kinship ties, and the importance of the mother over the father. I became aware of the words only as they left my mouth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;At the end of the longest 25 minutes of my entire life, Prof. Jochim thanked me for a job well done and I went back to my seat. During the review for the upcoming midterm I engaged in a contest with Mr. Know it all. We kept raining our hands at the same time to answer the teachers questions, but I'm just a little faster than he is. Two can play at this game. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I came home, slept for two hours, and then went back to school for Ancient Near East Class.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I'm so tired. I can't wait to go to sleep tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Hope all of my loyal readers are well tonight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;~Born to Blossom, Bloom to Perish, Tragic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. UPDATE concerning Gwen's Dance album from Greenerpastures.net&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From &lt;a href="http://music.ign.com/articles/558/558887p1.html" target="_blank"&gt;ign.com&lt;/a&gt;, here is the tracklisting for Love Angel Music Baby:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What You Waiting For: Produced by Nellee Hooper; Co-written with Linda Perry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Rich Girl: featuring EveProduced by Dr Dre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Hollaback Girl: Co-written and produced by The Neptunes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Cool: Co-written and produced by Dallas Austin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Bubble Pop Electric :Co-written and produced by Andre 3000 (Johnny Vulture)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Luxurious: Co-produced by Nellee Hooper and Tony Kanal; Co-written with Tony Kanal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Harajuku Girls: Co-written and produced by Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Crash: co written and produced by Tony Kanal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Real Thing: Co-written with Linda Perry; Intro performed by Wendy and Lisa from Prince's old band; Bass performed by Peter Hook from New Order; Backing Vocals from Bernard Sumner of New Order&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Serious: Co-written and produced by Tony Kanal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Danger Zone: Produced by Nellee Hooper and Dallas Austin; Co-written with Linda Perry and Dallas Austin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Long Way To Go: Co-written and performed by Andre 3000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 color="#3366ff"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;taken from the star magazine website&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GWEN STEFANI SHOCKED GAVIN'S GOT A LOVE CHILD!Gwen Stefani's world has been turned upside down with the news that her husband, rocker Gavin Rossdale, 36, who Gwen, 35, married two years ago and who she's been with for eight years, is the father of a 16-year-old British model, Daisy Lowe. Neither Gwen -- who is said to be "devastated" and "ballistic" over the news -- nor Gavin had any idea that he had fathered a child with his former lover and longtime friend Pearl Lowe, 33, until a DNA test revealed the shocking results just two weeks ago. Gavin and Pearl originally became involved in their late teens, when both were aspiring singers in London. When Pearl got pregnant at the age of 17, she assumed the father of her baby was an Egyptian man whom she was also dating at the time. Though she and Gavin had been intimate, according to a source close to Pearl, the two eventually "decided they were better off as friends." After the birth of Pearl's baby, Gavin was named godfather to the little girl, named Daisy. "He thought Daisy was absolutely gorgeous," says a source. "He was besotted with her." Meanwhile, Pearl found love with Danny Coffey, now 30, a drummer for the British band Supergrass, with whom she went on to have two more children. She and Gavin remained friends as his success with the band Bush grew. When Gavin left the U.K. for America with Bush, he kept in touch with Pearl and his goddaughter. "Pearl was so happy for him when his band took off," says the source. But once Gavin met Gwen in 1996, his friendship with Pearl cooled. Gwen had always been concerned about Gavin and Pearl's relationship. "Gwen has been a little jealous of Pearl," says the source. She told Gavin to stay away from her. GAVIN'S DILEMMA Two years ago, when Gwen, 35, and Gavin finally wed after a six-year courtship, those close to the couple began to notice a resemblance between Daisy -- now a teenager who models -- and Gavin. Daisy was featured in the October issue of British Vogue. Gwen even inquired about their uncanny resemblance. "Gwen asked Gavin outright if he was [Daisy's father]," says the source. "He swore blind he had never had sex with Pearl." Actually, Gavin never admitted to Gwen that he'd had a romantic relationship with Pearl, but when Pearl recently insisted that Gavin take a DNA test to clarify Daisy's parentage before the girl turned 16, he complied. "Gwen trusted Gavin," says the source. "But the results proved he was the dad." Daisy is said to be thrilled at the news of her father's identity, and though Gavin released a statement confirming he is Daisy's dad, he is apparently freaked out by the news. "His marriage is strained because Gwen was caught by surprise," says the source. Gavin was linked to a string of women during his six-year courtship with Stefani -- including Courtney Love, Andrea Corr of the Irish pop group The Corrs, and British singer Nicole Appleton -- perhaps inspiring Gwen to write the No Doubt song, 2001's "Detective,"on which she sings: "I've caught you, your hands are red/ Now I'm your brokenhearted detective." Hmm, looks like life is imitating art. -- JOHN BELL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.P.P.S lyrics to Detective from Rock Steady&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Detective&lt;br /&gt;(G. Stefani, T. Kanal, T. Dumont)&lt;br /&gt;My back it hurts again&lt;br /&gt;It aches like history&lt;br /&gt;Cottonmouth and all lit up&lt;br /&gt;You're smiling back at me&lt;br /&gt;But I feel you must have failed me&lt;br /&gt;Once again you've let me down&lt;br /&gt;My confidence below my knees now&lt;br /&gt;I need to find you out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peek in sneak about&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna snoop and call you out I caught you, your hands are red&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm your broken hearted detective&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey lover why the gun?&lt;br /&gt;Hold on I'm almost there&lt;br /&gt;It's too late, you killed the trust&lt;br /&gt;Don't act so unaware&lt;br /&gt;So why are you so destructive?&lt;br /&gt;Do you realize what you've done?&lt;br /&gt;You can't bring it back to life now&lt;br /&gt;What are you running from?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peek in sneak about&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna snoop and call you out I caught you, your hands are red&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm your broken hearted detective I don't like the way I feel&lt;br /&gt;I just want you to be real&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey girl save the liar&lt;br /&gt;Can't you see his pants on fire?&lt;br /&gt;Hey girl save the liar&lt;br /&gt;Can't you see his pants on fire?&lt;br /&gt;I'm rummaging through your closet&lt;br /&gt;Imagining all the worst thoughts&lt;br /&gt;Peek in sneak about&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna snoop and call you out&lt;br /&gt;I caught you, your hands are red&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm your broken hearted detective&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&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/7710076-109840406036291874?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109840406036291874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109840406036291874&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109840406036291874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109840406036291874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/10/napoleon-and-bronislaw-will-have-their.html' title='Napoleon and Bronislaw will have their revenge!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109833769736655545</id><published>2004-10-20T22:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-20T22:48:17.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Books For Soldiers</title><content type='html'>Here's another reminder from yours truly.  There's this really cool website out there called "Books For Soldiers."  You can check it out and send cool stuff to someone in Iraq or Afghanistan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about it-- the holidays are coming up!!  It's too late to do anything cool for Halloween, but Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Hanukkah, are on the way.  You could even send blank holiday cards to someone in the service so they can send the cards back to the states.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another good one is "Soldier's Angels," you can actually adopt someone and send them mail and care packages.  You can even specify branch of service.  ~Tragic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109833769736655545?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109833769736655545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109833769736655545&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109833769736655545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109833769736655545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/10/books-for-soldiers.html' title='Books For Soldiers'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109816585196130797</id><published>2004-10-18T22:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-18T23:04:11.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I tried to feed the hunger of an empty grave.</title><content type='html'>"Nobody like you"&lt;br /&gt;Echobelly&lt;br /&gt;(On, [1995, Rhythm Records])&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside it harbours,&lt;br /&gt;Desire bruises my skin,&lt;br /&gt;So near I'm hungry,&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to have more,&lt;br /&gt;In control,&lt;br /&gt;I've lost it,&lt;br /&gt;l'd like to try it again,&lt;br /&gt;It warms inside me,&lt;br /&gt;We're moving one step closer each time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you anyway,&lt;br /&gt;oh anyway,&lt;br /&gt;There's nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody can touch you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you anyway oh anyway,&lt;br /&gt;Everyone knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We fall, slow motion,&lt;br /&gt;I taste your breath in my veins,&lt;br /&gt;Like waves, vibrations,&lt;br /&gt;It's coming up again,&lt;br /&gt;Let me climb inside you,&lt;br /&gt;Caress your fever tongue,&lt;br /&gt;Spread my wings around you,&lt;br /&gt;And we can slide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you anyway,&lt;br /&gt;oh anyway,&lt;br /&gt;There's nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody can touch you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you anyway oh anyway,&lt;br /&gt;Everyone knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always craved,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I tried to feed the hunger of an empty grave,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've shown me secrets I've not forgotten,&lt;br /&gt;l'll give you all the love that I take,&lt;br /&gt;That I take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside it harbours,&lt;br /&gt;Desire bruises my skin,&lt;br /&gt;So near I'm hungry,&lt;br /&gt;We're moving one step closer each time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you anyway,&lt;br /&gt;oh anyway,&lt;br /&gt;There's nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody can touch you,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody like you anyway oh anyway.&lt;br /&gt;There's nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Can you can you can oh oh oh,&lt;br /&gt;There's nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Can you can you can oh oh oh,&lt;br /&gt;There's nobody like you,&lt;br /&gt;Can you can you can oh oh oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a quick post tonight since I've got two map midterms tomorrow.  Argh, maps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in high school, Echobelly was my favourite band.  I found about them through my cousin who worked at Tower Records.  He's seven years older than me, and in high school, nothing couldn't convince me that he wasn't the coolest guy ever.  He has a mohawk and wore leather and chains-- his fellow employees called him Mad Max.  And I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.  (You know, except for the whole being a guy part.)  His girlfriend was really into a band from Britain.  Consequently, Echobelly was the only music he listened to that wasn't a metal band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Already being somewhat of an outcast at my own high school I adopted his complete catalogue of music as my own.  I couldn't have cared less about Boyz II Men, Wu Tang Clan, Celine Dion, or the Spice Girls.  There was no way I would ever fit in with the popular crowd anyway, so why bother listening to their music?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got my driver's license I had to beg for six months to get a tape player for my car.  ('Stupid American radio stations', I'd think.  'They never play Echobelly!')  I finally convinced my dad that I stood a better chance of not crashing my car while messing with the radio because I'd be listening to my own mix tapes on the stereo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Echobelly never made it big here.  I believe they toured back in 1995, but it's not like I could go to the clubs in San Francisco and see them.  One of their songs was on the "Dumb and Dumber" soundtrack, and that was pretty much it for their chance at the American market. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sonya Aurora Madan has such a beautiful voice.  In my opinion, there was never a band who deserved stardom more than Echobelly, and never got it.  (sigh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ribs still really hurt but I've decided just to lie about it to my friends.  I'll just tell them I'm fine.  A part of me thinks that I should be able to be tough and cope with this.  It's not like I'm ever going to get any help from Shmizer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yeah-- it's really hurts when I breathe.  But I'm just going to keep it a secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get hungry from time to time, but when I actually try to eat, it's like my appetite disappears.  Time will tell, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Born to Blossom, Bloom to Perish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Tragic&lt;br /&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/7710076-109816585196130797?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109816585196130797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109816585196130797&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109816585196130797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109816585196130797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/10/i-tried-to-feed-hunger-of-empty-grave.html' title='I tried to feed the hunger of an empty grave.'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109782514122379649</id><published>2004-10-14T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-15T00:28:14.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Born to Blossom, Bloom to Perish</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Where did I leave off? I missed all my classes on Monday because I was too sick. I typed up my paper on Confucius and was actually planning on going to class on Tuesday. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Monday night was a night of misery. I hadn't remembered to take my cough medicine until I went to bed at 1AM. The cough medicine I've been taking before bed is called phenergan, if you must know. It's from a few years ago but I think it's still okay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Anyway, all I did was toss and turn (fever), cough, rattle and hurt. In my whole life I don't think I've coughed as hard as I did on Monday night. All the tylenol finally got my fever down to 100 degrees. Even though I only slept for 15 minutes (no exaggeration) it felt like a nightmare. The one thing that sucks about college is that due dates are concrete. The cooler professors will let you turn in a paper late for a small penalty (10% deduction). Others are more hard core and won't accept a paper given to them half way through class. (So, for example, if class starts at 8am and you get there late and turn in your paper at 8:30 they will say no.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Tuesday morning was the first time I left the house since Friday. As I shuffled out of the house at 8:15am my eyes instantly burned. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I felt like poor little Smeagol peering up at the sun. 'It burns us, It burns us!' Although I do not remember the drive to school, I have a very vague memory of my professor telling me I looked very pale and yes, it was okay if I just went straight home after turning in my paper. I slept for at least four hours when I got home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Tuesday night I had just enough energy in me to type up my thesis and outline for writing workshop. I hate outlines. Always have and always will. In pathophysiology we had to do these long, complicated outlines. Our instructor was completely daft- each one of these 10 page outlines was worth 0.25 points. I remembered to take my phenergan, so-- I actually slept. Alot. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Wednesday I actually went to all my classes. I picked a topic for my speech on October 18th and signed up (talk about waiting til the last minute.) In Ancient Near East, Dr. Roth passed back the midterms. I started to scrunch down in my desk, dreading the moment when he called my name and gave me back my test. As he handed me my blue book I cringed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I don't know if I mentioned this midterm last week. It was worth 200 points: fill in the blank, definition, short answer, map, and essay. (The essay was worth 100pts, the remaining 4 sections made up the other 100 points. I completely forgot about the map portion, so you can imagine my horror when I was flipping through the test booklet and saw that. The map didn't have any hints-- at all. Not even squiggly little lines for rivers. My biggest problem with these sorts of assignments is that it's hard for me to figure out what's ocean and land. It's just a bunch of black lines for the Near East and the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. Ack! I got an A+ on the essay, but I totally bombed the rest of it. Apparently, no one in any of his classes has managed to ace one section so completely, while the blowing the other half entirely. I'd prepared myself for an F but I managed to get a C. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;My last class was cancelled so I just went home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;This morning my fever dropped to 99 degrees. Oh happy day! On my way past the bell tower on campus, this guy came up from behind me, tapped me on the shoulder, looked me right in the eye and said "You're running late, you don't want to be left behind." I'd stopped walking, while he delivered the second part of the sentence walking backwards looking at me. I'd never seen him before and I have no idea who he was. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I had two quizzes today. Alejandro was such a sweetie, he got all the handouts for me while I was sick. He's two years older than the rest of us and Phuong and I are convinced he's a genius. He could probably go to Harvard if his family had more money. It's not just with history. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;He took physics as an elective. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;For fun!! Anyway, I'd done the reading for the first quiz so there weren't too many surprises. Alejandro's cool though. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;In our second class I tried to take notes and do my reading at the same time. We sit in the back, so I wasn't too worried about the professor seeing me. I was sitting there, reading about Church Reform in Russia in the seventeenth century thinking to myself that I was going to make it-- finish my reading. I'd already read the previous chapter in the parking garage. Alejandro got my attention by tapping on my desk. He shrugged at me and gestured at my book. "huh?" I asked. He reached over to my book and flipped ahead four chapters-- "the quiz today is on 18 &amp; 19! Read about the French Revolution and the Industrial Revolution," he whispered. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Oh crap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;! I'd just read 15 and 16. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;I think I did okay though. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;I'm just so tired all the time. It sounds strange, I know, but it's almost as though I'm too tired to cough. Every muscle is just so tired it's like I'm physically incapable of coughing anymore. And when I do it's so hard to catch my breath. My sore throat has eased, which is nice. I can finally drink and eat again. The cough syrup and tylenol really do the trick. I wish I could take it during the day too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;Oh. The soonest appointment I could get was November 4th. "Live well and Thrive" my ass. What a crock.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;I recorded the "Making of... What you Waiting For" on MTV last night. I absolutely love Gwennie's new video and wish I was her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;"Born to Blossom, Bloom to Perish."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;3 Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109782514122379649?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109782514122379649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109782514122379649&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109782514122379649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109782514122379649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/10/born-to-blossom-bloom-to-perish.html' title='Born to Blossom, Bloom to Perish'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109756451398279931</id><published>2004-10-11T23:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-12T15:37:27.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so freakin' tired</title><content type='html'>One more tiny post. My fever is finally below the triple digits. Actually, it seems firmly planted between 99 and 100. All my other symptoms still apply though. I missed my classes today-- both of them. After about 12pm I woke up enought to start my paper for World History A, which is due tomorrow. It took about twice as long as it wold have had I been feeling 100%. I'll probably just turn my paper in and come home for the day. It would be so great if I could just come home and sleep-- but I've got 2 papers to write before Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I get for being unconscious with a 101 degree fever for most of the weekend. It's all about the tylenol, sudafed, benadryl, and cough syrup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite frankly I feel too miserable to sleep. I'm watching "History's Blunders: The Titanic" on the history channel. Earlier I watched something about the Holocaust on PBS. Programmes about the Holocaust always make me cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you are all doing better than me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;much &lt;3 Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109756451398279931?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109756451398279931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109756451398279931&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109756451398279931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109756451398279931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/10/im-so-freakin-tired.html' title='I&apos;m so freakin&apos; tired'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109747635136253868</id><published>2004-10-10T23:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-10T23:32:31.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep escapes me</title><content type='html'>Since Friday night I've been pretty much out of it.  Last night I checked my temperature and it was 101, but tonight it's around 100.  Plus, last night, my head really started to hurt, along with the back of my neck.  So, when I do get up I have to be careful.  I can only take a few steps at a tme and them I have to lean against the wall.  I can only describe it as a realy awful throbbing feeling that makes me dizzy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I missed the football game.  I just stayed home and went in and out of consciousness watching "The Nightmare Before Christmas".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My throat is still hurting.  It's so bad that I haven't been eating or drinking a whole lot since Friday night.  Even nice cool water burns my throat.  Tonight should be interesting.  Hopefully I won't spend as much time tossing and turning-- or waking up because I'm hot or cold-- or because I'm coughing.    (sigh)  This sucks.  I can't help but wonder if this is what the rest of my life will be like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;much &lt;3 Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109747635136253868?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109747635136253868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109747635136253868&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109747635136253868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109747635136253868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/10/sleep-escapes-me.html' title='Sleep escapes me'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109730438818728937</id><published>2004-10-08T23:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-08T23:46:28.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here we go again.</title><content type='html'>Hello all.  I'm not really feeling up to doing a big post.  For most of today I was feeling about the same as I have been.  Around 8pm, though, I started to feel worse.  Now I've got a sore throat and a fever of 100 degrees.  I can't decide whether I'm hot or cold.  Missed out on seeing that new movie "The Forgotten"-- that one Julianne Moore is in.  Lisa can't handle scary movies-- so Phuong and I usually go together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is the co-ed football game.  I was just going to go and watch.  Phuong has been planning this for almost 2 months, so I feel like I have to go, even if it means I'm shivering because of my fever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Born to Lose, Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. I hope you guys are doing better than me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109730438818728937?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109730438818728937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109730438818728937&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109730438818728937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109730438818728937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/10/here-we-go-again.html' title='Here we go again.'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109669925877049817</id><published>2004-10-01T22:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-04T19:35:28.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast of Champions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;First things first. This is the THIRD time I've typed up this friggin post. F***ing blogger.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I still stand by my statement that this has been the longest week ever. The fact that I keep re-typing this post is only reinforcing that opinion. Anyway, by Monday night I was already exhausted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Monday I was too exhausted to even make it to my morning class-- the Study of Religion. I stayed in bed and slept, making Monday the fourth time I've missed my religion class. (I know, I know. Bad tragic) My second class of the day is Ancient Near East, which runs from 1:30 to 2:45. I actually got to the class a little early, and sat against the brick wall. The cold emanating from it feels nice on my sore side and back. After about 15 minutes Phuong came creeping down the hall with her cell phone to her ear. She hung up by the time she got to my comfy spot against the wall. I had finally remembered to bring her "Third Watch" tape with the season premiere on it. Phuong slid down the wall next to me and offered me a piece of gum. "Are you feeling any better? You don't look like you're feeling well at all! I can see it in your eyes." She managed to wrangle a promise out of me that I would return to the doctor. The kids from Military History began streaming out of DMH 165 and we both stood up. "You promised!" She said as she made her way to her sociology class. After class was over, we talked about possible plans for the weekend. Alejandro is in four of my classes this semester and Ancient Near East is one of them. Right in front of Alejandro Phuong says "You should call those fuckers at Schmiser and tell them you're going to sue unless they help you!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Alejandro turns and looks at me and asks "What, for your cough? What's it been, like two weeks?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Two weeks, try two months!" Phuong shook her head in disgust. She continued "Walk her to her car-- and make sure she doesn't pass out!" (groan) How embarrasing, I think to myself. Alejandro is the oldest in our group of friends and seems to have taken the role of big brother. When we go to Cafe Pomegrante, which is right across from the History building (Dudley Morehead Hall, or DMH for short.) he always treats me, which is pretty nice of him considering that I'm not his girl friend or relative. He's just old fashioned like that, which is really nice. (But, also, I don't want him to think I'm taking advantage of him. So I always always *try* to pay, even though he tells me my money is no good.) Alejandro was in my Historiography class last Spring. After hearing that I was being hassled by this homeless dude who hung out on campus, he started walking me clear across campus to my car, even though his bus stop was in the complete opposite direction. He's a sweetie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Anyway, Alejandro walked me to my car and off I went. As soon as I got home, I went outside to check my mail box-- to see if I got anything cool. (All I got was a bill for my CAT scan last month.) After watching a little TV, I was taking a laundry basket out to the the washer. There are only three steps in the house, so I guess it figures that if I was going to get dizzy and lose my balance, it would be there. So uh, yeah. I think I sprained my left wrist. I collected all my laundry with my good hand and tossed various articles into the washer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;The rest of the day and night was spent finishing writing my speech about Confucius (K'ung Fu Tzu). Also, each student had to prepare a handout to pass out to the entire class. My handout ended up being 6 pages, but it was very thorough and I felt good about it. I used all different colors of paper-- so I had pink packets, green packets, and yellow packets. Because white is sooooo boring. I got to bed at about midnight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Tuesday morning came early. I woke up a little early because I was a little nervous about my speech and also wanted to go to the library and check out some books to use as visual aids. After spending half my coins, I had exactly 60 cents. I was standing in Novel Cafe, jealously eyeing all the food and drinks that I couldn't afford. After studying the menu in line I found one thing I could buy. A small cake donut with rainbow sprinkles on top. When I got up to the register though, the dude gave the BIG donut, the $1 donut even though I was 40 cents short.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;After about half an hour of lecture it was my turn to do my speech. I wasn't too nervous at this point, I've almost earned my minor in Eastern Religions, so I felt like I knew my stuff pretty well. One of the books I checked out was a comic book version of the sayings of Confucius, the other was The Analects. My speech went really well and I said all I wanted to say. The only problem is that I kept coughing after almost every sentence. ("Sorry guys. I've got kind've a cold, so you'll have to bare with me.") After I was done, the professor told the whole class "You're going to want to hang on to this because it will be very helpful for the midterm." I'd almost forgotten what academic success felt like after all those freakin' nursing classes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;My mom and I were supposed to have lunch Tuesday afternoon, but she ditched me at the last minute. So I came home and had peanut butter sandwichs made out of ritz crackers. Spent the rest of the day reading for my Africa to 1800 class.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Africa class is packed. I don't think Professor Kline even accepted any adds. You've got to get to class early to get a desk, otherwise you end up on the floor. (Just like high school.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Danh is my only real friend in Africa class. The other person I sort of know is Carl. He misses alot of classes. He's a paramedic up in EPA (East Palo Alto) which was the murder capital of the States back in the early 90's. I guess he's got a better excuse than the rest of us. "Oh sorry I couldn't make it to class-- some guy was bleeding to death in the back of my ambulance." I bet that's just what he says too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;During our snack break, class runs from 6pm to 8:45pm, Danh and I went to the library to make copies of something Phuong had given me. As we were leaving the copy area, I lifted my backpack when Danh says "Hey, you should probably let me carry that." 'what?' "No, that's okay man, I've got it." I tried to reassure. "But, but you're hurt and sick!" he said as he gestured for me to give him my backpack. I know he's just trying to be nice, but I don't want to be *that* kind of girl. Some weak thing that people pity. Besides, there's this last shred of dignity that I'm desperately clinging to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;On the escalator I announced that I was going to go to a Novel CAfe and get some hot chocolate and Danh followed me. When we were in line, this guy on my right side slapped my hip and said really, really loudly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;"DAMN BABY, You are turning me ON!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Everyone just sort of stopped and turned to look. He was gesturing to my newest accessory, a pair of handcuufs that hang from my chain belt. Danh looked at me as if to ask "who the hell is this guy?' This guy was also a history major. I knew him from History of the Vietnam War, which we both took in Fall of 2003. When out turn at the counter came, I dug out my wallet and ordered my hot chocolate but Danh said "Don't worry about it, I got it." "Are you positive?" I queried. "No problem". The three of us made awkward conversation until our orders came up. On the way back to class, Danh lit another cigarette and tried to avoid blowing smoke my way. By the time we got to class, the movie about christianity in Ethipoia had already started. We sat in different parts of the class and when I got back to my seat, some guy was sitting it it. So I had to sit on the floor for 45 minutes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Tuesday night, when I was writing my prospectus and bibliography for my writing workshop class, the computer decided to freeze on me. I was trying to open a file on a disc when it happened. *crap* I couldn't even open it-- had to do it all over again. I didn't get to bed until 2am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Wednesday morning was awful. I felt like I hadn't even gotten any sleep. My alarm clock went off for probably 10 minutes before I realised it. I remember having this dream where I was on a space craft that was going down-- crashing into a moon and the proximity alerts were going off. (What do you want from me, I already confessed to being a sci fi geek.) Then it dawned on me that it was my alarm clocking buzzing at me. Even though I wanted to go back to sleep, I figured I couldn't miss Religion class again. So off I shuffled, to a lecture on the Durkheimian approach to the sociological study of religion. Staying awake was a challenge. After class I sped back home because I needed to finish my prospectus and bibliography. Even though Imissed the first twenty minutes of my Ancient Near East class, I got my work done. I did miss the beginning of the lecture about Egypt though, which kinda sucked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;All we did in 100W class was turn in our work and decide not to meet until October 13th. Dammit! That's when MTV is airing the "Making of the Video" for Gwen Stefani's What You Waiting For. Why does everything always happen at once?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Both Lisa and Phuong have a 6pm class on Wednesday, but lucky me does not. Phuong wanted fries and Lisa wanted a shake, so we went to Peggy Sue's in San Pedro Square, right next to the Old Spaghetti Factory. As the name would suggest, Peggy Sue's is one of those '50's diners, but with a twist. It's also a hockey bar-- all the Sharks fans go there after the game, sometimes a Shark does too. But because of the hockey strike, we were the only people in there. I ordered a grilled cheese, Phuong ordered a California Club, and Lisa got, Bingo you guessed right, a grilled tuna salad sandwich. After we orderes Lisa looked at me after taking a swig of vanilla shake, "I just love how like, every two weeks you're dead!" Phuong flipped on her phone and left a message for Lon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Apparently, while Danh and I had gone to the library, Lon went to our class to check up on me. When I wasn't there, he called Phuong and left some freaked out message. He's really more her friend then mine. Anyway, my cell was off that night and when she couldn't get a hold of me, she imagined the worst. Me in a hospital bed. Rumors started to swirl through the depeartment Wednesday morning. So, apparently I've cheated death!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Also, Phuong was invited by her crush of 2 years to go to a sports bar after class. She was all proud "Can you believe it! He gave ME his phone number!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;All I wanted to do Wednesday night was sleep, but alas, I had two quizzes to study for. Even though I'm so tired most of the time, sleeping isn't as easy as it used to be, with all the coughing. Sometimes when I cough or breathe out, I can hear this rattling sound. It sucks. I've still got my left wrist wrapped up too. This kind of crap isn't supposed to happen until a person is in her 80s. Thursday morning the vending machine wouldn't accept my coins. So I ate-- absolutely nothing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The Breakfast of Champions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;When did this happen? When did I become this sick weak girl with circles under her eyes? When did I become a pitiable creature?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Oh well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Before I go, does anyone remember that show "Space: Above and Beyond"? It was on in '95 and '96 I think. Last night I dug out my tape and started re-watching it while I typed this post the first time. I was so pissed off at Fox when the cancelled that show.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cyberpursuits.comheckifIknow/saab/default.asp"&gt;http://www.cyberpursuits.comheckifIknow/saab/default.asp&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;The Fox Network: Where Good Shows Go To Die.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;FARSCAPE UPDATE: The "Peacekeeper Wars" is scheduled to heir on October 17th on the SCi Fi channel. Also, the sci fi network is supposed to begin heiring nightly re-reruns soon. Check your TV Guide. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.scifi.com/farscape/"&gt;http://www.scifi.com/farscape/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;GWEN STEFANI UPDATE: According to Billboard.com and Gwen Stefani's own site, the forthcoming dance album will be called "Love, Angel, Music, Baby."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Born to Blossom, Bloom to Perish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;3 Tragic Tuyen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109669925877049817?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109669925877049817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109669925877049817&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109669925877049817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109669925877049817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/10/breakfast-of-champions_01.html' title='Breakfast of Champions'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109669375367105129</id><published>2004-09-30T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-03T02:43:21.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm winter!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="xfh" src="http://images.quizilla.com/C/carmabell/1093313025_imewinter2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a Winter. You very much enjoy your time&lt;br /&gt;alone but do like other people's company&lt;br /&gt;sometimes. You just need your space. You have a&lt;br /&gt;few priviledged friends who saw past your&lt;br /&gt;colder exterior to find the true you. You can&lt;br /&gt;have pretty bad mood swings (though you hate to&lt;br /&gt;admit it) so you could be soft one second then&lt;br /&gt;storming around the next! But over all, you're&lt;br /&gt;a very pleasant person once people take the&lt;br /&gt;time to get to know you. You're a good friend&lt;br /&gt;for in-depth talks. You're very talanted when&lt;br /&gt;it comes to creative things.(If you can't see&lt;br /&gt;tje pics, go to my homepage and look near the&lt;br /&gt;bottom and find your result)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/carmabell/quizzes/What%20season%20are%20you?"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;What season are you? (pics)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;brought to you by&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109669375367105129?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109669375367105129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109669375367105129&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109669375367105129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109669375367105129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/09/im-winter.html' title='I&apos;m winter!'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109634957929044194</id><published>2004-09-27T22:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-12T15:55:37.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What you waiting for?</title><content type='html'>Hey peeps. On Friday Gwen Stefani's single from the dance album, still untitled, was played on KROQ in LA, and KISS. If you wanna check it out, go to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bsonline.trulyobsessed.com"&gt;http://bsonline.trulyobsessed.com&lt;/a&gt;. There are two versions at beacon street online: an instrumental version and a studio version.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a different version which isn't very clear, but over on the No Doubt forum I've heard that this one rocks. Personally, I&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt; *LOVE*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt; it! If I smarter I could put the song up so you could actually hear it on my site. But, I don't know how to do that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;As far as I know, the single *officially* drops in early October, but it will get radioplay as soon as Wednesday. On October 13th on MTV at 6pm (EST) there will be a "Making The Video" special on What You Waiting For. The album, still untitled, is scheduled to drop on the 23rd of November. (The album has, according to rumors, been called "What You Waiting For" and "Love, Angel, Music, Baby.")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;What You Waiting For&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;(Gwen Stefani)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What an amazing time&lt;br /&gt;What a family&lt;br /&gt;How did the years go by?&lt;br /&gt;Now its only me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tic toc&lt;br /&gt;Tic toc&lt;br /&gt;Tic toc&lt;br /&gt;Tic toc&lt;br /&gt;Tic toc&lt;br /&gt;Tic toc&lt;br /&gt;Tic toc&lt;br /&gt;Tic toc&lt;br /&gt;Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a girl in heat stuck in a moving car&lt;br /&gt;A scary conversation, shut my eyes&lt;br /&gt;Can't find the brake&lt;br /&gt;What if they say that your a clutter?&lt;br /&gt;Naturally I'm worried if I do it alone&lt;br /&gt;Who really cares cause it's your life&lt;br /&gt;You never know it could be great&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a chance, cause you might grow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, oo, oh(Chorus x2)&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a chance, you stupid ho&lt;br /&gt;Like an echo pedal, you're repeating yourself&lt;br /&gt;You know it all by heart&lt;br /&gt;Why are you standing in one place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Born to blossom, Bloom to perish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know you're wigging out&lt;br /&gt;Cause of your sex chromosome&lt;br /&gt;I know its so messed how our society'll think&lt;br /&gt;(For sure)&lt;br /&gt;Life is short, your capable. (Uh-huh)&lt;br /&gt;Oh, oo, oh&lt;br /&gt;Look at your watch now&lt;br /&gt;You're still a super hot female&lt;br /&gt;You've got your million dollar contract&lt;br /&gt;And they're all waiting for your hot track&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus x2)&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to go back into Japan&lt;br /&gt;Gimme lots of brand new fans&lt;br /&gt;Its Osaka, Tokyo&lt;br /&gt;You Harajuku girls&lt;br /&gt;Damn, you've got some wicked style&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at your watch now&lt;br /&gt;You're still a super hot female&lt;br /&gt;You've got your million dollar contract&lt;br /&gt;And they're all waiting for your hot track&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus x2)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting for?&lt;br /&gt;What you waiting for?&lt;br /&gt;Take a chance you stupid ho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109634957929044194?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109634957929044194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109634957929044194&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109634957929044194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109634957929044194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/09/what-you-waiting-for.html' title='What you waiting for?'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109626933043821065</id><published>2004-09-27T01:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-27T00:15:30.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my horoscope</title><content type='html'>Scorpio Horoscope for 9/27 - 10/3&lt;br /&gt;This week's scenario is highlighted by organizing a schedule and sticking to it. You'll need to be a good conductor. A little irritability early in the week is your spur to action. You can move now with both grace and speed. Go to it! There's a tremendous amount of information on your plate. Work will likely demand that you do a juggling act to keep everything going at the same time. Your analytical style could suffer in such a fast-moving environment. You'll need to get a quick impression of a situation and then move on. You won't have much time for reflection. You may be forced to guess. Others call this "using your intuition." Try it. Secrets may play an important role in your feelings. Perhaps it's the information that only you have. You can feel pressured to cough up data that was given to you in confidence. Don't give it up, no matter what promises are made to you. Instead, return to the source and make sure they give you the OK to release the information. Your super-sharp perceptions can be quite helpful now. Bypass all the peripheral stuff and go right to the core of the matter. Once you get your positive motion to flow, your goals will clearly come into focus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This horoscope provided by &lt;a href="http://astrology.blogthings.com/"&gt;Astrology Source&lt;/a&gt;. Learn about your inner self, friends, and lovers.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109626933043821065?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109626933043821065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109626933043821065&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109626933043821065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109626933043821065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/09/my-horoscope.html' title='my horoscope'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109626801129726656</id><published>2004-09-26T23:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-26T23:54:03.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's up with the puppets?</title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="COOKIE!" src="http://images.quizilla.com/A/atotalblamblam/1038624015_kiemonster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cookie Monster's Bulimia Nervosa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, cookies *are* good. But too much of anything&lt;br /&gt;is never a good thing. Instead of bingeing and&lt;br /&gt;purging, try to regulate your eating habits.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe instead of having two dozen cookies, you&lt;br /&gt;could have two. Also, you should slow down&lt;br /&gt;your eating. Chew each bite several times&lt;br /&gt;before swallowing. Eating more slowly makes it&lt;br /&gt;easier to tell when you are full. And don't&lt;br /&gt;worry about body image--people love you just&lt;br /&gt;the way you are, googly eyes and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/atotalblamblam/quizzes/Which%20Sesame%20Street%20Muppet"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;Which Sesame Street Muppet's Dark Secret Are You?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;brought to you by&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109626801129726656?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109626801129726656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109626801129726656&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109626801129726656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109626801129726656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/09/whats-up-with-puppets.html' title='What&apos;s up with the puppets?'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109619115295283998</id><published>2004-09-26T01:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-26T02:38:19.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beauty Contest</title><content type='html'>"Beauty Contest"&lt;br /&gt;(G. Stefani, T. Kanal)&lt;br /&gt;(Return of Saturn [Japanese Release] 2000, Everything In Time 2003)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damsel in distress is quite submissive&lt;br /&gt;Look how sun burnt my vanity is&lt;br /&gt;Effeminate human creature&lt;br /&gt;Superficial seducing detour&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to the mall for the cookie-cutter&lt;br /&gt;The ugly duckling will always suffer&lt;br /&gt;Contaminated standards, don't try to fight it&lt;br /&gt;I better get back on my diet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obsessed with the beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;Beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;How'd my vanity get such a mess?&lt;br /&gt;Beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;I'm obsessed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reduce myself, I've got the strict restrictions&lt;br /&gt;Not sexy enough without the regulations&lt;br /&gt;Molten point countdown my fading features&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Born to Blossom, and bloom to perish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obsessed with the beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;Beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;I've got to get out of this mess&lt;br /&gt;Beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm obsessed&lt;br /&gt;And I've fallen, I can't help myself&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling envious of all the rest&lt;br /&gt;You're bringing out the lemming in me&lt;br /&gt;A victim of the cattle-call disease&lt;br /&gt;Not easy to be me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel swollen&lt;br /&gt;Obsessed with the beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;Beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How'd my vanity get such a mess?&lt;br /&gt;Beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;Obsessed with a beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;Obsessed with the beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;Beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;I've got to get out of this mess&lt;br /&gt;Beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;Obsessed with the beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;Obsessed with the beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;Beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;How'd my vanity get such a mess?&lt;br /&gt;Beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;Caught up in the beauty contest&lt;br /&gt;And I feel swollen&lt;br /&gt;How'd my vanity get such a mess?&lt;br /&gt;(Interscope Records)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow night I've been invited to a pub crawl, and I promised, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;promised&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; Phuong that I'd go. So I guess I'm going. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Thursday night I was huddled under the covers praying for freedom from my fever. She and Lisa went to Santana Row and went to a bunch of bars there. Apparently they both got a little tipsy. Phuong and I are lightweights when it comes to liquor. They'd gone in Phuong's car, but she felt too drunk to drive and gave her keys to Lisa so they'd both make it back in one piece. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lisa drove them back to her apartment cuz Phuong didn't wanna go home drunk (afraid her parents would know.) When morning came, Lisa had know idea how they'd made it back to the apartment-- didn't even remember driving or watching TV. Friday morning she was incapacitated from, and I quote, "the worst fucking hangover to have ever plagued mankind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk about lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier last week, Phuong was complaining to me about *her* crush. This is quite possibly the longest crushes ever (two and half years and counting). Anyway, she goes back and forth between loving him and hating him. Hers is a kinder, gentler form of stalking. She's got her spies, they are everywhere. And as a result, we know tons of stuff about him though there has been little interaction between them. (Except a group trip to Britannia Arms before graduation day.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think her crush is fading though. From asking around, we've determined that, as far as anyone knows, he's only ever dated white girls. Plus he said something about Vietnamese people which Phuong didn't take to kindly to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude, I can't change my race. I can't help the fact that my eyes are slanted and brown-- I couldn't even bleach my hair blonde enough for him," and "eye make up won't change the shape of my eyes, believe me, I've tried," she stated rather emphatically. So I said, "Yeah, it sucks when someone won't date you because you're Vietnamese." But I also added silently, 'or if he won't date you because you are not Asian.' So we're both wishing we are something that we are not. We both hate ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If that's it, if he only dates white girls, then I find this very ironic. You know, considering that *my* ex-crush only dates Asian girls. What's that expression, "the grass is always greener....."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, how I'm possibly going to afford a pub crawl is beyond me. Especially considering that I just blew a bunch of money on new clothes. (What does one do if her form of therapy could lead to possible bankruptcy?) Although I have been feeling pretty damn tired I think I'll go. I haven't had a good night out in a long time-- I keep backing out cuz I've been feeling like crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My chest just hurts! Pain that happens when you breathe just isn't fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Born to blossom, and bloom to perish ~ Tragic Tuyen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS.  Apparently, Marilyn Manson is engaged to Dita Von Teese. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, where the f*** have I been?  Joey Ramone died of prostate cancer on September 15th. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                          Joey Ramone&lt;br /&gt;                                                           1948- 2004&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109619115295283998?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109619115295283998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109619115295283998&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109619115295283998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109619115295283998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/09/beauty-contest.html' title='Beauty Contest'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109600517974157671</id><published>2004-09-23T22:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-23T22:52:59.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>P.S</title><content type='html'>Guess who has a fever of 100 degrees?  Again!!  Guess I''ll just crawl under some blankets and hope the tylenol pm starts to work. (sigh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7710076-109600517974157671?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109600517974157671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109600517974157671&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109600517974157671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109600517974157671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/09/ps.html' title='P.S'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109597838508695688</id><published>2004-09-23T14:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-23T15:26:25.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick of it all</title><content type='html'>I was actually going to post this sooner but I was too freakin' tired.  Why do I hate everyone?  Why did I write that to end my last post?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday night Phuong called me to ask me if I wanted to have a meal at the steakhouse.  I drove to Phuong's and the three (Phuong, Mai, and I) of us went to the restaurant for our free meal.  Lisa who had a night class that ended at 8:45pm was going to meet us there.  Hwa (Phuong's middle sister) works there and arranges these free meals.  Hwa's new boyfriend also works there so we got to meet (re: tease) him.  He seems pretty sweet.  And funnY!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got seated and were instructed by Hwa to order whatever we wanted because, this time, she didn't even want us to tip.  (!!!)  Steven (Hwa's bf) got off of work early and so joined us.  We ordered three appetizers because there would eventually be six of us having dinner.  We ordered for Lisa before she got there.  (She instructed Phuong via cell phone as to her meal.)  Lisa, although very sweet, has to be the pickiest eater known to man.  All I've ever, EVER, seen her eat are tuna salad sandwiches, plain rice,mashed potatoes, and steamed brocoli.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anway, Lisa was a bit late because there had been crazy traffic due to two closed lanes on 880.  When she got to the restaurant she looked like she was going to kill someone.  The first words out of her mouth were "I need a beer!  The traffic is fuckin' crazy out there!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our food had come and we started to feast.  Lisa had a few bites of her mashed potatoes when she looke right at me and says, "So, I  heard you were giving Lara all kinds of dirty looks at the ball game!!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?  "What? Says who?"  I asked.  I didn't even have time to talk to the girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we had been waiting to be seated, Phuong and I got on the subject of Lara.  Phuong expressed that "I don't like that Lara girl.  I just don't."  So, even though this Lara chick is dating my crush, I defended her.  I was trying to point out that maybe she felt intimidated being with such a big group of strangers, or maybe she was too shy to talk to us because she has a very heavy accent.  Phuong just looked at me and nodded 'no', "No, that girl, man, she's just such a bitch." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phuong interjected "Yeah, that's why I don't fuckin' like her.  I was talking to Tony yesterday (Sunday) and he told me that Lara told him you were giving her nasty looks and being a bitch!"  "But when, when was I being a bitch? There were two people between her and I!"  Lisa took a bite of french bread and explained "Well!  It was when Tony and his friend went to get hot dogs and soda!!  Don't you remember?"  and she started to laugh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't worry, I put him straight!" Phuong said.  "I told him I hang out with you all the time and you've never been anything but sweet-- you don't have a malevolent bone in your body.  He finally agreed with me" this was said much more forcefully. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to be thoughtful at the game.  Lara and Tony chatted the whole game away, so it's not like I spoke to him or her!  I wasn't hanging all over Tony, I kept my hands to myself.  I went out of my way to leave them alone and not try to be a third wheel.  Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what really pisses me off is that I thought we were friends. Although I did have a crush on Tony, it's not like I'm all over him.   My group of friends is Phuong, Hwa, Mai, Lisa, and Tony.  I asked him to go to a concert once but it was very non-chalant and more like 'hey, I've got an extra ticket to a concert and I can't find anyone to go' and not at all like ' hey, I like you-- wanna fuck?'  We didn't go to the concert and neither one of us ever brought it up again.  We hung all the time and it wasn't wierd at all.  So, yeah.  I thought we were friends but I guess I was wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least everyone is with me on this. Except for one glaring exception.  Screw them.  I don't  need this kind of high school jealousy drama.  I didn't even do anything wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is one of my favourite songs by the Distillers, from the album "Sing Sing Death House".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sick Of It All"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Murder murder a ripe blood stain&lt;br /&gt;Pulled the fucking trigger cause I'm sick of it all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muder murder a ripe fucking hate&lt;br /&gt;Pulled the fucking trigger cause I'm sick of it all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to school today with an Uzi&lt;br /&gt;There's this kid,he teased me&lt;br /&gt;So I shot him in the face&lt;br /&gt;All the world's light won't ease my pain&lt;br /&gt;It won't cease,I'm diseased&lt;br /&gt;Will you hang me please?&lt;br /&gt;I'm a nihilist&lt;br /&gt;Raised on violence&lt;br /&gt;What do I do?&lt;br /&gt;I'm American youth&lt;br /&gt;All my life I've lived in silence&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna snap, I'll get you back shit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a girlI'm only thirteen&lt;br /&gt;My body rots Cause I won't fucking eat&lt;br /&gt;I'm a silent star on the b-roll&lt;br /&gt;I'm a mirror fucking image of no control&lt;br /&gt;Give me an award&lt;br /&gt;I conquered food again&lt;br /&gt;What else is better in life than to purge my pain?&lt;br /&gt;If I cut,I won't look like that&lt;br /&gt;If I cut,If I cut,I won't feel like this shit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are kids&lt;br /&gt;We think life is a scam&lt;br /&gt;We come from a wasted land&lt;br /&gt;We are kids we play punk rock and roll&lt;br /&gt;If we didn't we got no soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are different fucking kids with the same heartbeat&lt;br /&gt;We got one pulse running through the streets&lt;br /&gt;They are our arteries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are different fucking kids with the same heartbeat&lt;br /&gt;We got one pulse running through the streets&lt;br /&gt;I am a part of this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are kids&lt;br /&gt;We think life is a scam&lt;br /&gt;We come from a wasted land&lt;br /&gt;We are kids we play punk rock and roll&lt;br /&gt;If we didn't we got no soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(2002 Hellcat records)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS.  Tragic, while she realises it's slightly mental and boorish to refer to herself in the third person, wants to point out that she is *crush* free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Tragic Tuyen&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/7710076-109597838508695688?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109597838508695688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109597838508695688&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109597838508695688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109597838508695688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/09/sick-of-it-all.html' title='Sick of it all'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7710076.post-109574960373900061</id><published>2004-09-20T23:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-21T23:06:27.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>........................</title><content type='html'>Self Esteem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote her off for the tenth time today&lt;br /&gt;And practiced all the things I would say&lt;br /&gt;But she came over&lt;br /&gt;I lost my nerve&lt;br /&gt;I took her back and made her dessert&lt;br /&gt;Now I know I'm being used&lt;br /&gt;That's okay man cause I like the abuse&lt;br /&gt;I know she's playing with me&lt;br /&gt;That's okay cause I've got no self esteem&lt;br /&gt;We make plans to go out at night&lt;br /&gt;I wait till 2 then I turn out the light&lt;br /&gt;All this rejection's got me so low&lt;br /&gt;If she keeps it up I just might tell her so&lt;br /&gt;When she's saying that she wants only me&lt;br /&gt;Then I wonder why she sleeps with my friends&lt;br /&gt;When she's saying that I'm like a disease&lt;br /&gt;Then I wonder how much more I can spend&lt;br /&gt;Well I guess I should stick up for myself&lt;br /&gt;But I really think it's better this way&lt;br /&gt;The more you suffer&lt;br /&gt;The more it shows you really care&lt;br /&gt;Right?&lt;br /&gt;Now I'll relate this a little bit&lt;br /&gt;That happens more than I'd like to admit&lt;br /&gt;Late at night she knocks on my door&lt;br /&gt;Drunk again and looking to score&lt;br /&gt;Now I know I should say no&lt;br /&gt;But that's kind of hard when she's ready to go&lt;br /&gt;I may be dumb&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not a dweeb&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a sucker with no self esteem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Offspring&lt;br /&gt;Smash&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I got to thinking about this old song, so I thought I'd put it up even though it doesn't really apply to me right now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;PS. I HATE EVERYONE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/7710076-109574960373900061?l=born_to_lose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/feeds/109574960373900061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7710076&amp;postID=109574960373900061&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109574960373900061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7710076/posts/default/109574960373900061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://born_to_lose.blogspot.com/2004/09/blog-post.html' title='........................'/><author><name>Tragic_Saturn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03144779550301527350</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry></feed>
