<?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-10037231</id><updated>2011-10-30T04:57:32.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Read My Mind</title><subtitle type='html'>Just my everyday complaints about the people I care for and don't want to hurt them or lose them by telling them my feelings.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10037231.post-111774015682993969</id><published>2005-06-02T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T12:24:33.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kinda Funny In A Mean Way</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;"&gt;Hello. I haven't had anything to say in a while, but today I do. A couple of nights ago we had an award ceremony and the jazz band had to play there. Carm arrived late because she had to change outfits because apparently her mom thought the other she was wearing was too slutty. Carm told me that that was so insulting to her. Now I don't know if I wrote this in here or not, but Carm told me that guys only like me cause of my chest. Hmmmmmm, . . . and thats not insulting? For one, Carm seems to be dressing a little on the less side, with the tank tops, mor elike the one or two that she always wears and how she always rolls her pants up. It's not that bad, but enough to make it seem like shes doing it for attention. For one, the way you dress is something you can alter, but the size of your chest isn't something you can unless or cool with spending thousands of dollars to get your chest cut up and possibly later infected. Ew. So, what I'm saying is, I can't help the size of my chest (which really isnt all that big), but she can help the way she dresses. On top of that, her attitude gets on my nerves. Shes so rude, whenever she sees something she just has to point it out and about almost everyone. "You can tell she's wearing a lot of make up." or "She doesn't listen to rock, why is she using that name." Things like that that don't really matter a whole lot. So what if she's wearing a whole lot of make up, maybe it makes her feel more comfortable about herself, so what if you don't hear her listening to rock, doesn't mean she doesn't like it and plus she may have a different opinion about how much they listen to of it before they're real rock literate. And I know, I'm being rude here too, but I'm not saying it out loud, I'm not saying it to anyone and I'm trying to be nice about it. I &lt;em&gt;try&lt;/em&gt; to be nice with everyone I meet because I don't want to offend them and if theres something about them like its evident that they're wearing a whole lot of make up, so what? There are probably tons of things that I do that bug people, or things I wear that people don't agree with, but I don't care.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10037231-111774015682993969?l=fashionpirate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/111774015682993969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10037231&amp;postID=111774015682993969' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/111774015682993969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/111774015682993969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/2005/06/kinda-funny-in-mean-way.html' title='Kinda Funny In A Mean Way'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10037231.post-111283247050331349</id><published>2005-04-06T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-06T17:15:04.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I Have A Do-Over?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I wish I could go back and just change a few things. For some reason saying that makes me thing of magnets with words on them that you can just change old sentences as you go along. Maybe go back and stop myself before I went out with all those people I only went out with because they asked. Stop Bryan from making fun of me into an everyday lunch ritual. Maybe learn to stick up for myself instead of just letting it all go by me as if I'm okay with it when I'm not. I don't know why I do that, why I don't stick up for myself. It's as if I'm expecting someone else to do it for me and that's not right. The last two days I was getting really annoyed with the whole "fish" and "Tina, you fat lard! come get some dinner!" and I ignored it and gave those people a really poed look and I think they got it, maybe, . . . I hope. Today I was a &lt;strike&gt;little&lt;/strike&gt; lot more like myself and people didn't say as many comments as before. There were some, but what should I expect? Plus, I don't mind if they every-so-often made fun of me its just as much as they do, its annoying. Probably a main thing that bugged me though was that Jon had told me he found it stupid and yet he still does it. He's a hypocrite! And that for some reason unknown really got on my nerves.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, . . . First track meet tomorrow. I was put on the 4x200, 200, and 4x400. I'm up for it, I think I can do it and I want to! Okay, well I'm going to go cause I have no more to say and I'm not going to just sit here and type spaces. Bye!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10037231-111283247050331349?l=fashionpirate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/111283247050331349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10037231&amp;postID=111283247050331349' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/111283247050331349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/111283247050331349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/2005/04/can-i-have-do-over.html' title='Can I Have A Do-Over?'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10037231.post-111060110173177282</id><published>2005-03-20T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-03-20T19:30:48.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I Wake Up Now?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Right now, I feel like I'm dreaming while eveyone else is awake. I feel that way cause in our circle of friends I seem to be the outsider, the one whos just there because theres all this whispering being done that I'm seeing, but not hearing. I want to be in on it all, but I guess I'm not invited and I blame it on me being anti-social. The more I see that people aren't allowing me into their "circle" the more I cower away building a bomb in my mind that is going to explode if the right wire doesn't get cut. I feel that Carmella is the one who's holding the spoon, stirring up everything in our pot of friends. It just seems to me that she's the one linked to everything, she's the one doing the most whispering. Question: she's always getting mad at others for telling her secrets. Doesn't she do the same thing by telling other people's secrets? Does it seem as if shes okay with telling other people's secrets and yet when it comes to her secrets, no one can know? I could be wrong, these are just observations that have turned in to possible realizations. Another thing that annoys me, is her complaning. It seems to me that she blames a lot on her family and yet she's never done anything wrong. So, I'm being to believe that maybe she's beginning to blame her family because she's gotten away with doing it so many other times. Also, if her family is causing so many problems and they are affecting her life that much then she needs to seek help cause I don't think things are going to get any better once her mom has that baby. And I'm sorry for saying that, but its what I think and I want to say it to get it out of my mind. It's not good to keep things in your mind they take up space that you just can't risk to be taken up. It could also be that I'm in a mood to bitch. One more minor thing that is bugging me about Carmella, how many blogs does she need to have? She has an angelfire one, bravenet, two xangas, and probably some more I don't know about. All of those were once secret and she wanted to keep them secret, but you know what? She's not real smooth. She signs other blogs using the name of the blog she wants as "secret" and yet she yells at other people when they find out about even though it was her fault for being sloppy about keeping it "secret". She doesn't know this, but her current secret one, I know it. I have it saved under favorites, not as a subscribtion, that would be sloppy of me. And I don't leave comments. To stop complaining about Carmella, I'll move on to someone else, well two others actually. Anna &amp;amp; Jason. When they are around each other, can they take just one second to realize that they aren't the only ones in the room. They act like they're the only ones in the room and its annoying! Jason seems to of become like obssessed with Anna, like his every waking thought revolves around her. It seems like Anna is his world. Cute, but more so sad. Anna currently recieved a job at Dairy Queen, which makes it so that now she has 1. School work, 2. Track, 3. Softball (when she joins), and 4. Dairy Queen. Now to me it seems like shes taking on a lot and I don't feel like shes going to be capable to do it all, she has too much confidence in her self. I know I wouldn't be able to do all of that, I don't do my chores as it is and thats not much. Anyway, I'll move on, Denise. She seems to feel as if she's the most important one in a room and thats not fully making sense, I think, but heres an example. Last night at the party my mom was trying to explain how to play Taboo because not everyone knew how to play, but Denise is sitting there saying " I know, I know how to play." I couple times. What really used to get on my nerves about her, but now I'm just getting used to it, is that fact that she never has a lunch. Okay, about once a week she has french fries and when she doesnt have food she mooches off of everyone else. And, everytime you ask her why she doens't have a lunch its the same excuse, she either forgot to ask for money or her parents forgot to give her money. How can you forget it everyday of the school year?!?! I suspect that she's not eating lunch because she thinks she gonna get fat, she thinks that in not eating lunch she will get healither. If thats the case, shes needs like an intervention or something to show her why she needs to eat lunch, why its important, especially since shes in sports now. Finishing up with the girls, Rachel. And yes, I remember that you know this blog, but I made this blog to say things like this, and its my mistake for slipping. Anyways, Rachel, you can tend to be rude. To get someone's attention don't grunt, kick, push, or whatever. Say their name, tap on the shoulder, but don't get their attention and anger in the same process. You need to learn to use your mouth when you want something instead of thinking people can read your mind. I know, these are becoming fewer instances, but there are still some. I'm going to move on to the guys, starting with Jon. This first thing isn't against him, it's something I forgot to add earlier that is connected to him. At lunch, when Jon is kind of quiet, maybe having his head on the table, I think he does that to see if Carmella will notice because shes giving more of her attention to Jason then Jon. Therefore, making Jon feel left out. Now, Jon, when I talk to him on the phone he tends to say that he is the best at everything and that he deserves better, but he says in such a sly way like he's saying he's not trying to be and in a way you don't quite notice till you think it over. Garritt, Ronnie, and Geoff, I have nothing currently against them so I shall move on to Bryan. I hate the way I let him get away with things I wouldn't let anyone else get away with. The things he says at lunch annoy me yet I just let him get away with it, I laugh it off. Yet I know that if it was anyone else I wouldn't let them. That I know is because I still like him, he's right up there next to Eric. Enough about my friends. Me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;One thing I dislike about myself, this. The way I just go through all of my friends and pick out all of there bad qualities before their good. I don't like how my memory absolutely sucks and it probably annoys my friends because they'll tell me something and then I wont remember it and it even annoys me. I hate the fact that I let people call me stupid and stuff like that. Maybe I am and maybe I'm not I don't know and maybe thats the reason why I don't like people calling me that, I'm unsure of it myself. I probably let people call me that because I'm used to being called a moron by my mom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Since I mentioned my mom, I think I'll mention something about my father that really bugs me. Starting with something small. The money he spends on nicorites and beer. I believe he has pretty much stopped with the beer, but he spends I believe $80 dollars a week on nicorites and he's been on nicorites for a couple years now. That's a lot of wasted money in my opinion. A more major thing that I have no clue what to do about is what he looks at while on the internet. Everyone in my house knows what he looks at while on the internet, in fact he saves the photos on to the computer. One time the pictures even turned into a screensavor and he blamed the computer saying that we probably had a virus that put them there, bull crap! When my sister was in high school and still living at home, if she found them, because hes another person thats not good at covering up their steps, she deleted them. So, when I found them, I deleted them. I've given up though cause it does no good, it doesn't stop him. In fact, one day I was looking for this one black board that we use for making puzzles on and I looked behind the bookshelf that its usually behind. Instead of finding the board, I spotted a magazine by the ground. I went upstairs and got a flashlight so I could see what it was and I read the binding, . . .Playboy, but I'm assuming you already figured that. I haven't told anyone about that cause I don't know who to tell and I don't want to tell my mom cause I don't know how she would react. What do I do? Who do I tell? This is one of the reasons why I don't trust my father, why I prefer hanging out with my mom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Like I said before, can I wake up now? Wake up from this dream thats turned into a nightmare?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10037231-111060110173177282?l=fashionpirate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/111060110173177282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10037231&amp;postID=111060110173177282' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/111060110173177282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/111060110173177282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/2005/03/can-i-wake-up-now.html' title='Can I Wake Up Now?'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10037231.post-110753344699888182</id><published>2005-02-04T23:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T21:36:59.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Do You Mean?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Yesterday was ski club, snowboarding is totally awesome. Denise, I think, was flirting with Kyle a few times, but I'm gonna try not to get bothered by it. Cause she still likes him, as far as I know, and ya know, he asked &lt;em&gt;me &lt;/em&gt;out after &lt;em&gt;she&lt;/em&gt; asked &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt; out, I would be kinda jealous/angry if I was in the same situation as Denise. She also said on the bus to him, she was kinda cranky, maybe cause it was past her bedtime..., "Don't talk to &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt; about pain!" And I'm really wondering what she meant by that, I'm thinking she was implying she's been through more pain then him, and I'm not so sure about that based on all the reasons he told me hes been to the hospital for. Otherwise, I don't know how to interperet that. Anyways, while we were eating monahan, eric, brett, and some other kid came up behind us. Monahan stole my pizza, I went to get it, Eric sat in my seat started eating my fries without me noticing and the other two people, Brett and the other guy, just stood there kinda watching it. Monahan didn't eat my pizza and I got it back. Eric sat by us again for a little while, till he found Dan Ashburn. While he was sitting by us, I was like swaying my hands back and forth in opposite directions cause I had pizza sauce on them and I was waiting for Denise to come back with the napkins. He started coping me and I think he said I can do that too, or that he can fly too, something like that, and I didn't notice he had been talking to me until a little bit afterwards. He had asked me a question too, I think. But anyways, I'm sorry to Kyle for saying this, but I hope next year I have a chance with Eric. He went down the slopes without a shirt on!!!!! OMG, lol, hottness......sorta.......lol, I'm sorry, I can't help liking Eric. Another thing, Denise and I have the suspicion that John (Big Dolo) likes me too. He flirted with me this ski club and last ski club, he was throwing dead batteries at me this time and last time he was saying he would help me earn my black diamond sticker. He was also kicking snow at me, I think Denise might be a little jealous/angry about me cause of that too. I don't know for sure though, but again, I would be if one of my exs liked one of my friends, and I have been soooo yeah.&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/10037231-110753344699888182?l=fashionpirate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/110753344699888182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10037231&amp;postID=110753344699888182' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110753344699888182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110753344699888182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/2005/02/what-do-you-mean.html' title='What Do You Mean?'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10037231.post-110729406041172842</id><published>2005-02-01T16:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-02-01T14:43:07.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nevermind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I was thinking again, and nevermind about what I said in my last post, it was kinda harsh and unless anyone says anything, I'm gonna say it was my own paranoia.&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/10037231-110729406041172842?l=fashionpirate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/110729406041172842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10037231&amp;postID=110729406041172842' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110729406041172842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110729406041172842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/2005/02/nevermind.html' title='Nevermind'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10037231.post-110720326021630845</id><published>2005-01-31T15:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-01-31T14:01:44.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ya Know......</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I was thinking today and I realized that for Carmi, everything revolves around her. She's always talking about her self, changing the subject to something about herself or I don't know, she just always talk about herself. I mean yeah a person knows best about themselves, usually, but you don't have to talk about yourself 24/7. I might, but I don't try to and if I find that I'm talking about myself a lot I try to tone it down a notch. I just don't know. I'm trying to write a little bit more in here but I don't know what to add on....... And, when Carmi isn't talking about herself she picking out her peers faults. I'm beginning to wonder what she says behind my back........&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/10037231-110720326021630845?l=fashionpirate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/110720326021630845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10037231&amp;postID=110720326021630845' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110720326021630845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110720326021630845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/2005/01/ya-know.html' title='Ya Know......'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10037231.post-110576868309316480</id><published>2005-01-15T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-01-14T22:58:03.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, Thanks.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;So I found out that when Carmi asked out Bryan for me, she was hoping he would say no. Thanks a bunch Carmi. Really appreciate it. I'm not in a good mood, but being able to talk it out with someone, Cory, has made it so that I'm not on the verge of crying anymore. It's really bugging me about whether or not Bryan has feelings for Carmi and its really making me angry. I don't want to ask them cause I'm afraid of what the reaction will be if I'm wrong and I'm afraid to be right. I don't know what to do but keep to myself and hope it passes away even though in the process my emotions are being stretched to such a limit I'm getting meanish and quieter. I'm losing myself, in a way.&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/10037231-110576868309316480?l=fashionpirate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/110576868309316480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10037231&amp;postID=110576868309316480' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110576868309316480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110576868309316480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/2005/01/oh-thanks.html' title='Oh, Thanks.'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10037231.post-110549341079223924</id><published>2005-01-11T18:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-01-11T18:30:10.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Must You Quote Me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;A while ago my friends took my word buttmunch and it got on my nerves because it was stupid while I was using it, but when they use it, its like sooo "cool". That's what got on my nerves because I feel like I never get recogniction for things I do. I'm noticing it now because I don't know, but in American history they basically leave me to do all of the work while they just sit there having a good time. Then, I start using these words that no one has used in like forever and when I start using them I get looked at like I'm a fricking five year old. Then like a month later they start using the word I had been using and its like the new "trend". I hate it. Am I being the trend setter or what? I don't like it, obviously, but I would if I was recognized as the trend setter. Now just cause one time I freaked out cause they were using my words and getting recognized, that everytime they say one of "my" words they say sorry to me and I'm taking a hole lot of offense to that as if they are saying it in a mocking, sarcastic way! I mean, I dunno, it's just really annoying because I start something and I get looked at like I'm crazy and then they start doing it like its the "thing" to do. Another thing I don't like that ties in with this is being thought of as stupid. I feel like I've totally changed since last year, like I'm the group clown that no one takes seriously and I'm not liking it. I don't like being called stupid, only when I say it to myself, its never fun to be called stupid. I wias I could be serious with my group of friends and tell this to all of them, but I don't know exactly how many of them would take me seriously. I want to be serious in my group, but that wont happen. I tell carmi I got hurt and you can tell from my tone of voice that I'm not real happy about it and she'll laugh. That's annoying. I'm beginning to wonder what it's like to be an outcast.&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/10037231-110549341079223924?l=fashionpirate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/110549341079223924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10037231&amp;postID=110549341079223924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110549341079223924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110549341079223924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/2005/01/must-you-quote-me.html' title='Must You Quote Me?'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10037231.post-110529016384250800</id><published>2005-01-09T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-01-09T10:12:32.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Group" Project</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Another thing that has made me mad, except, this happened a little while ago. In American History class we had to take a section out of the text book and create a script and perform it. My group had Anna, Dalton, and Andy in it. The first day I'm trying to do stuff and trying to get their opinions about stuff and everytime I mentioned Andy being George Washington he stood up as if he was getting a standing oviation with his hand on his chest and the rest of the time he was asking me continuesly, "Should I make a speech?" Everytime I told him if he could come up with one, or if he wants to he could. Then Dalton was pulling out pieces of Anna's hair and cutting with scissors so that it was in pieces about a centimeter long. The only one that really did any work was me. They were constantly off task doing stupid mindless things. It got on my nerves and the only thing Anna did was make a few decisions I asked her and the only thing Dalton did was make signs to the adduience telling them to applaud, be quiet and be loud. Andy, I don't think he did anything. Then I ask Anna if she thinks everyone did a fair amount of work and she says yes. So at that point I ask her who did what and I think she might of realized then that our group didn't do a fair amount of work. We go up to do our play and first the teacher asks us if we did a fair amount of work and we were all silent for at least two minutes and some people in our group (I believe Andy and Dalton) said that we did while I'm not sure what Anna said, but I said no and then I dunno what the other questions were. Oh, one was if the group stayed on task and once again some people said yes when they didn't and others, maybe just me, said no. Then we got a 35/40 for the grade and Anna thinks I was upset because we got a bad grade, I thought it was an okay grade, it wasnt horrible its like a B and thats okay with me. What I was mad about was that the group left basically all of the work to me and apparently didnt even notice that they had done that, or they did and didnt want to admit to it. Then, after that class was lunch and Anna and I were at my locker and Bryan came by and I still wasn't so happy so Anna tells him that I was upset because our group got a bad grade. WRONG! Bryan tried comforting me though, by saying that he gets tons of bad grades so hes used to it. Okay, well that's the end of that complaint, thanks for letting me tell you. Bye.&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/10037231-110529016384250800?l=fashionpirate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/110529016384250800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10037231&amp;postID=110529016384250800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110529016384250800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110529016384250800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/2005/01/group-project.html' title='&quot;Group&quot; Project'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10037231.post-110522894791213464</id><published>2005-01-08T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-01-08T18:03:41.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Annoyed</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;This is gonna be my first post in my new blog (one of three) so first I would like to say hi! This is gonna be my blog of all the complaints I have, I need this blog because I want to be able to get my feelings out with out annoying anyone and without hurting myself (mentally, I could never physically hurt myself). I'm a Taurus, It tend to hold my feelings in, and not on purpose, only because I'm afraid my feelings will annoy someone and then I'll lose a friend. I don't want that to happen, just to make that clear right now. I started this blog because one thing right now is bugging me and I can't post it in the other two of my blogs. Carmi is getting on my nerves. I might be over-reacting, but its bugging me and so, before I explode and get someone mad at me, I will clear my mind of it by letting it out all in here.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, once again, as I said before, Carmi is bugging me. She's flirting with Bryan, I know she likes him, but she doesn't need to show it. She went out with him once for like a week and she acts like he still likes her. I mean it was basically a mutual decision between the two. I know, I'm sounding like I think Bryan likes me and only me and only has, but no, I know that's not true. She might just be calling Bryan to annoy Jon because Jon has been calling Anna and I lately, but you shouldn't fight fire with fire. Work it out between the two of you, don't make it worse by doing the things to Jon that are annoying you when he does them! Jon only calls me when he needs to vent about the things Carmi does to annoy him and then he does them to her and she does it right back to him. Carmi is so mean to Jon and Jon is so obsessed with Carmi. While I'm venting..... Carmi is always exaggerating pain. She gets hurt, or gets a headache and she thinks no one has gone through the same pain and she thinks she has like the worst of it ever. SUCK IT UP CARMI! I fell down a hill snowboarding doing a few front flips, landing on my back, and scraping my forehead. It hurt and I was on the verge of crying, but I sucked it up and made fun of myself. You get hit and think you can't use your arm for the rest of the day, suck it up! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm done complaining and venting, get ready for more complaints in the future, I will have many, I'm a perfectionist. Heck, I might even have complaints about myself, which when I do, I exaggerate to such and extent and make myself feel so bad about myself for hating something about me, that I begin to cry, even for doing that, it makes me feel bad. Okay, well, I'm gonna go, Bye!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;My Other Blogs:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.angelfire.com/crazy3/tina0/blog"&gt;www.angelfire.com/crazy3/tina0/blog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=FashionPirate"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;"&gt;www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=FashionPirate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10037231-110522894791213464?l=fashionpirate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/feeds/110522894791213464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10037231&amp;postID=110522894791213464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110522894791213464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10037231/posts/default/110522894791213464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fashionpirate.blogspot.com/2005/01/annoyed.html' title='Annoyed'/><author><name>FashionPirate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00053994301131475027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://img31.exs.cx/img31/5047/leighannbk233cz.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
