<?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-1933269838792113902</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:07:39.510-07:00</updated><category term='midsummer nights dream'/><category term='oldnes'/><category term='Maple syrup'/><category term='humans'/><category term='moving'/><category term='Mother Earth'/><category term='movies'/><category term='crying'/><category term='Elton John'/><category term='spring equinox'/><category term='community'/><category term='birds'/><category term='Shootings'/><category term='crazy'/><category term='mirrormask'/><category term='leaving'/><category term='summer'/><category term='canker sores'/><category term='internet'/><category term='wish'/><category term='coven'/><category term='and all that jazz'/><category term='poems'/><category term='growing up'/><category term='reading'/><category term='singing'/><category term='musicals'/><category term='schedule'/><category term='arts fesitval'/><category term='american'/><category term='No labels for this one folks'/><category term='Virginia Tech'/><category term='giddiness'/><category term='hopes'/><category term='school ends'/><category term='Aida'/><category term='violence'/><category term='honeysuckle'/><category term='dream'/><category term='hate'/><category term='ritual'/><category term='school'/><category term='opinions'/><category term='life'/><category term='boring'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='church'/><category term='religion'/><category term='busy'/><category term='acting'/><category term='paganism'/><category term='writing'/><category term='skiing'/><category term='love'/><category term='questions'/><category term='End of the Spear'/><category term='gun control'/><category term='opportunities'/><title type='text'>Tru Confessions &amp; Etc.</title><subtitle type='html'>Do not disturb when brainstorming. You will get disembowled.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-1064814816976981649</id><published>2008-03-08T12:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T12:05:00.656-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>DREAM: A Film by Lisette Alvarez and Dylan Carroll</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed src="http://www.veoh.com/videodetails2.swf?player=videodetailsembedded&amp;type=v&amp;permalinkId=v6371409ChNnpGxB&amp;id=anonymous" allowFullScreen="true" width="540" height="438" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.veoh.com/"&gt;Online Videos by Veoh.com&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It never happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please watch and comment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Lisette&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1933269838792113902-1064814816976981649?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1064814816976981649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=1064814816976981649' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/1064814816976981649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/1064814816976981649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2008/03/dream-film-by-lisette-alvarez-and-dylan.html' title='DREAM: A Film by Lisette Alvarez and Dylan Carroll'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-7811591589472952905</id><published>2007-11-11T15:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T19:12:56.915-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='No labels for this one folks'/><title type='text'>Next on: THE RANTS OF AN ARGENTINE-BASED TEEN! ....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wpxaWuCv3yk/RzeLgys6TkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/WMJHAmBMjME/s1600-h/pon_and_zi--large-msg-115292482604.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131723695894187586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wpxaWuCv3yk/RzeLgys6TkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/WMJHAmBMjME/s320/pon_and_zi--large-msg-115292482604.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Pon and Zi comic copyright Azuzephre*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes. Because I'm too lazy to make a real blog, I am actually using one to advertise an upcoming one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Which is really pathetic if you think about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So. Yes. Next blog will be around the 24th, I suppose. "Why?" you ask. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because that's when I'll have something juicy to talk about. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Reeeeeeeeally?" you ask. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And my answer is YES REALLY. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"What is it about, then?" you ask, becoming quite annoyed I haven't gotten to the point yet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alright, I give in. The reason I'm saving up my writing for a nice long blog is because it's the...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Second Anniversary of Lisette's and Dylan's Relationship!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*cough*butwewereonlyfriendsthen...really*cough* &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mmmhmm. So. Be ready for the gooey sickening puppy love that should only be experienced on Valentine's Day. 'Cuz that's what's coming, baby. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And if you have a REALLY strong stomach, you'd watch the Valentine's day video I made for him: &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Osm0b_1dvao"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Osm0b_1dvao&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, yeah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;See you in two weeks. ^.^ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1933269838792113902-7811591589472952905?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/7811591589472952905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=7811591589472952905' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/7811591589472952905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/7811591589472952905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/11/next-on-rants-of-argentine-based-teen.html' title='Next on: THE RANTS OF AN ARGENTINE-BASED TEEN! ....'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wpxaWuCv3yk/RzeLgys6TkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/WMJHAmBMjME/s72-c/pon_and_zi--large-msg-115292482604.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-3769257104206267691</id><published>2007-09-30T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T11:25:20.772-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='paganism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spring equinox'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='honeysuckle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='community'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ritual'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='internet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coven'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mother Earth'/><title type='text'>The Gods Love You and Me</title><content type='html'>I find myself searching. Normal teenage behavior, of course, but every once in a while I'll find myself focused on one topic; the metaphysical. I go on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;YouTube&lt;/span&gt; and look up the Pagan Pride videos, dances, and interviews of people of different faiths. I go on eBay and browse through their "metaphysical shops", looking up things like statues of gods and goddesses, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;scrying&lt;/span&gt; bowls, runes, so-called "quick spells, amulets and I lazily wish to buy some of these things (however, I don't have an account, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;unfortunately&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; is a big part of this searching, it isn't the only area of my life that I find these topics. I try to snatch up discussions of religions at school, hoping to pick up a hint. A hint of what, I'm not sure. I listen to music that pulls me into other worlds, and I go on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Limewire&lt;/span&gt; to find the more obscure artists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I meditate and pray and do ritual on the full moon. I find a growing sense of power as the seasons turn to spring down here in the southern hemisphere. The baby birds, the blooming of flowers, the blazing, cloudless skies make me feel so alive. The spring of honeysuckle I took from my backyard is on my altar in my room; my physical symbol (and reminder) of this spring and our new beginnings. Its scent is everywhere here; it pulls out memories of Italy and my younger childhood. My God, it smells so good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I feel as if my spiritual path is missing something. Community. I've been craving it for a long, long time now, ever since I moved to Argentina and away from my old church. But now I have a new faith, one that has made me grow in leaps and bounds. Even if I ever went back to my old church in Florida, that sense of community I once had wouldn't be the same. The goals I had once worked toward with other Christian members of my church wouldn't have the same meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself on community websites in the States. Not Christian churches, but United Unitarian churches and pagan covens. Pagans are largely an eclectic community; they believe that an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;individual's&lt;/span&gt; spiritual path is personal, and shouldn't be influenced heavily by another system of beliefs. Many times, the only way a community of pagans "get together" is on certain celebrations, like Spring Equinox, or Yule, or Beltane. Even then, some pagans do not celebrate these holidays. So whether or not I find a pagan community in the DC area, who knows how I'd be able to find when they get together at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;regular&lt;/span&gt; intervals!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being in Argentina, an English-speaking Pagan group is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;basically&lt;/span&gt; impossible to find. I've accepted that. I suppose I'll have to wait for the next Pagan Pride Day near Virginia. ^.^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I do crave that idea of being with a group of people who believe the way I do (in a roundabout way, at least &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;XD&lt;/span&gt; ) and being able to dance and sing our hearts content as we revere Mother Earth and that strange and beautiful energy that connects us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Cuz&lt;/span&gt;, you know, I'm just that kind of crazy tree-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;huggin&lt;/span&gt;' hippie like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heck, I'd even settle for some Medieval/Faerie festival or something. For some reason, pagans love that kind of stuff. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;XD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brightest blessings, merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again, and all that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lisette&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1933269838792113902-3769257104206267691?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/3769257104206267691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=3769257104206267691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/3769257104206267691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/3769257104206267691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/09/gods-love-you-and-me.html' title='The Gods Love You and Me'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-3475097862262331536</id><published>2007-08-26T15:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-26T15:07:03.920-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Aida'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Elton John'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='opportunities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hopes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='singing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musicals'/><title type='text'>Enchantment Passing Through</title><content type='html'>Good day, all. Allow me to update from my long gap of absence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've started school again. Late, due to my family having to fly up to Canada for my uncle's funeral the week school started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it couldn't be any worse, I had to scrabble to make up all that darn homework. Speaking of....I still need to get that one quiz made up. Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the good thing about school starting is the new creative pressure put uopn me. I am working toward finishing my Mirrormask fanfic, for one thing. Not that anyone here has seen it except Dylan and Beffy. But that's only cuz I made them watch it. Chorus and drama, though, is a refreshing plunge for my muse. English and history, too, has been working on my writing. Interestingly, I've had a lot of oppurtunities to express my opinion on religion (which is something I haven't really expressed in a class setting). In English we are reading "The Crucible", which is about the Salem Witch Trials, and in US History on Thursday, my teacher got us to do a "sermon" on what America needs to "wake up" to. It really is interesting to talk to people and hearing their views on life, history, literature, etc. It's a pasttime I thoroughly enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;Choir and drama are doing well, even though my voice is still kinda kjdfhgkljdb because of this flu plague sweeping the school. No one's died, thankfully. Yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here we've arrived to the point of this blog. Our drama and choir classes finally found out what our musical is gonna be: Elton John and Tom Rice's "Aida".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, there's a few things you should know about my school's musicals. Because my school is private, we have a goodly amount of money for programs such as school trips, fundraisers, prom, and school plays. We have our own theatre, and so for our musicals we have professional lighting, costumes, make-up artists, and even our own orchestra. My school also hires a professional cameraman to record it and make copies to sell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for someone who is insanely obsessed with theatre and has only been in two musicals (one in elementary, the other high school), this is, like, a dream come true for me; an amazing experiance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not an outstanding singer. I can hit a note, and am an exceptional sight-reader, but I don't have the kind of voice that would make a crowd swoon; although part of me desperately wishes I did XD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm shooting too high to get this kind of part in a musical. There are plenty more girls who are amazing singers and can act to boot. But I really want, and am aiming to scrabble for, the part of Aida. I have only three things going for me; there are no black actresses in my school (okay, that's not really one :D), Aida's voice is right where mine is, and, of course, I'm a pretty good actress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of people I know are excited for this, but as far as I have noticed, not a lot of girls seem as enthusiastic and anxious to try this out as I am. Hell, I've got almost the entire flippin soundtrack on my iPod. Yes, I'll admit I've sung--loudly--with it in my attic.&lt;br /&gt;Part of me thinks that I have a good chance. The other parts are critical, seeing as I don't have a lot of experiance with musicals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what? I've talked to my mom, and she suggested that maybe I could get a voice coach to help me strengthen my voice. So my choir teacher is looking around for someone who can teach me good technique. Aida's character, too, is passionate and independant; a part easy for me to slide into. I just need to work on the mindset. Maybe these things will push me further to my goal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to ever sound full of myself, but there it is. I want this part. Really, really badly. Maybe some people won't believe this, but I've never wanted a part more in my life. That's why I'm going to try my utmost to make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there are other girls who will want it, but maybe my stubborn drive will allow me to be Aida. All I can do is hope, work my ass off, and make sure I don't shirk from my other responsibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A talent/confidence-boosting spell or two wouldn't hurt, either. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1933269838792113902-3475097862262331536?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/3475097862262331536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=3475097862262331536' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/3475097862262331536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/3475097862262331536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/08/enchantment-passing-through.html' title='Enchantment Passing Through'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-2421213220781830186</id><published>2007-06-11T17:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T17:48:10.938-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='acting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='growing up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oldnes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='leaving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school ends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='summer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reading'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='skiing'/><title type='text'>It's Just Life</title><content type='html'>Well, school's drawing to a close and I'm wondering where all that time went. I'm finishing up exams that I had so desperately worried over, saying good-byes to friends who are leaving, going to prom It seems that these past six months have zipped by my eyes like so many migrating birds. Heck, these past three &lt;em&gt;years&lt;/em&gt; seemed to have gone like SNAP! that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that old age, or is it just life? I AM only 16, but who knows? Maybe I should start examining my hair follicles for some early icing...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Haha&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, yes. My two closest buds are moving. :( One of them is already on the plane back to the States tonight. I was on a rampage hunting for her at school, but thankfully, at the last minute, I found her and gave her a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;HUUUUUGE&lt;/span&gt; hug and kiss and reminder to keep a healthy dose of insanity in her life. Bethany, my other friend, is also moving within the next week or so. Luckily, both of these friends are moving to DC, so I'll be able to see them next year. ^.^ I'm still gonna miss them, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. School's ending. I'm gonna be a junior next year. And sooner or later, a senior. And then it's off to college. Holy Cracker Jacks, I still need to get those letters of recommendation from my teachers that are leaving this year!!!! Better get right on that tomorrow. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Heh&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, at least I still have the summer to look forward to. And &lt;em&gt;Crime and Punishment&lt;/em&gt; to read for Advanced English. Well, as they say, the crime is to assign it, the punishment is to read it. Seriously though, it sounds very interesting. I love psychological novels. Yes, even the long ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of the summer, I'm hoping to get a lot of writing done. Maybe even a script for a little short film I've been thinking up. I really want to work on my acting, too. As I watch myself onscreen at the showing of Midsummer Night's Dream that the director's mom filmed, I noticed that there's quite a bit of finesse in my acting that I need to work on. I've been watching a lot of other movies, too, studying actors and actresses. Movie acting, of course, is a LOT more different than stage acting. More facial expressions than large body movements. As I watch myself act, I wonder what kind of actress I'd be better at. Yes, I'm quite energetic onstage, much more energy than can be controlled in a small area in front of a camera, but when I watch my face onstage, I realize that my facial expressions would be better suited in front of a movie camera; they are just not as exaggerated as I thought they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really would like to act in a movie though, even in a self-made one (which would be very difficult considering the only video recorder I have is my little photo camera). Even just for experience purposes. I really don't like to get my head all blown up with pride at my acting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;skillz&lt;/span&gt;, no matter what other people say, because I know I'm not very experienced. I've only really 'acted' in four plays; with dialogue, and counting one I did in elementary school.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, enough of my acting babbles. More on this summer. I really, &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; want to do a lot of sightseeing in the city. Go to the Opera Colon, for one. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ooooh&lt;/span&gt;!!! And watching tango dancers in the streets. Wouldn't that be spiffy? I also want to go back to this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hippy&lt;/span&gt; fair we went to in January. Yeah, so some of the stuff is not exactly designer; but it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; unique, and I'm a sucker for it! Granted, I know there will be plenty of haggling, just to be fair. I'm not &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; much of a sucker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're also going skiing!!! I've never gone skiing, and the only times I've been ice-skating was in Florida. &lt;em&gt;Imagine&lt;/em&gt;. Blasphemy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame my Canadian parent. &lt;3 &lt;----Heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's all I've got to say for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Chao&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;dahlings&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1933269838792113902-2421213220781830186?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/2421213220781830186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=2421213220781830186' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/2421213220781830186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/2421213220781830186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/06/its-just-life.html' title='It&apos;s Just Life'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-7448368400446691031</id><published>2007-05-17T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T18:26:34.673-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='midsummer nights dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mirrormask'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='giddiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='busy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>The Course of Love Never Did Run Smooth</title><content type='html'>Ummm...hi everyone. Well, perhaps I should have updated sooner. I guess an 'oops, sorry won't do it again' won't cover it? I supposed so. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I have been insanely busy. Tonight, first of all, was the first performance of our student-run play of Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. I can't believe we were able to pull it off, but we did. We had barely any adult help bringing it all together; rehearsals, sets, memorization, polishing. We even had last-minute members to fill in for people who dropped out. It was really, really wonderful. Tomorrow is our second and last performance, and afterward the whole cast is going to a restaurant, and then to our director's (Emilee's) house to celebrate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah. I'm exhausted. School's out in a few weeks. Has the year gone by so fast? Well, at least Pirates 3 is coming out. *fangirl squeal* I'm totally going, like, opening night. Day. Whatever. I'm so excited! *squeezes Captain Jack Sparrow plushie*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last. Harry. Potter. Book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two. Months. I could totally, like, cry. I grew up with those books. ;-;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll just have to get cast in the 6th or 7th movie, and then I'll be satisfied for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also been writing like mad; inspired by an enchanting little movie called 'MirrorMask'. I'm writing what could be called my version of the 'sequel' of MirrorMask, and posting it on FanFiction.net. I am surprised on how well my writing is improving, and what I am able to do with it. Like I said, I feel completely inspired, but not only that, I am enthralled with being able to grasp and translate the atmosphere of the movie. I've also discovered an extremely useful technique for writing; asking questions. I have a Microsoft Word document filled with questions I need to answer for my story; questions about the plot, the characters, feelings needing to be portrayed...anything and everything. I'm growing as a writer, and it tastes like bubblegum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of writing, I truly want to hug my English teacher. She is getting us to write basically anything pertaining to 'local color', 'exposition', and even in the perspective of Holden in Catcher in the Rye, which we are reading in class. Oh, yes. And we're watching Dead Poet's Society all day tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel giddy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1933269838792113902-7448368400446691031?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/7448368400446691031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=7448368400446691031' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/7448368400446691031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/7448368400446691031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/05/course-of-love-never-did-run-smooth.html' title='The Course of Love Never Did Run Smooth'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-8857047709626146526</id><published>2007-04-29T08:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T12:26:19.825-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='paganism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crying'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='arts fesitval'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='canker sores'/><title type='text'>Where The Wild Things Are</title><content type='html'>Canker sores. Seriously, they are, like, volcanoes of pain and annoying discomfort. And that mouth-gel stuff only lasts for, what? half an hour at most. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Grrr&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've checked two more things off of my Reasons to Be Stressed list; the Drama and Choir performances. Not to say they were both stressful in themselves. My partner and I in our little duet act skipped about a page and a half of dialogue (well, actually, &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; missed my lines to start off the scene). Thankfully, we went with it well enough so that no one except for us, and the kids working backstage, noticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, there is the choir concert last night. Along with aching feet, shaking legs, and stumbling over my &lt;em&gt;Non &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Nobis&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Domine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; intro, I also cried during a song. Yes, my friends, it was that dreaded "Prayer of the Children" I posted earlier. I pulled myself together as soon as it was over, but who wouldn't still be a tad mortified after sobbing in front of an audience of 100? After the concert, I forced myself to laugh in my humiliation, and not dwell on it, because if I did, all those good-willed people trying to comfort my would just make me cry again. Or make me feel like there's an ulcer eating away my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame my mother and her emotional genes. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I have that much out of the way, I still have Midsummer Night's Dream coming up on the 17&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; and 18&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of May. Not to mention...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*cue Freddy Kruger overture*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXAMS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*gulp*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I just need to take it one thing at a time...one thing at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of May, it's cold down here. We finally got our heating system put up, by my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ickle&lt;/span&gt; footsies are still freezing. It think the only reason I'm not, like, "WHY THE &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;BEJOOBERS&lt;/span&gt; IS IT COLD IN MAY????" is because I'm learning to think of season cycles instead of month cycles. It makes a lot more sense. It's a lot easier to think that Halloween (or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Samhain&lt;/span&gt;) is coming up than May Day (or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Beltaine&lt;/span&gt;) with all its maypoles and warm weather and fertility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, just to clear it out of the way, I consider myself a sort of eclectic Pagan. Because "Pagan" is a HUGE umbrella term, it's easier to explain that, in short, I believe in the divinity of nature, in a God and Goddess, and the sanctity of earthly life. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Samhain&lt;/span&gt; (pronounced Sow-in. It's Gaelic :D) and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Beltaine&lt;/span&gt; are "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Sabbats&lt;/span&gt;", or holidays that some Pagans observe. I'll probably illustrate more on some of the details in other blogs. Of course, however, I'm only 16. I've got a heck of a lot more to learn in life. This is just something that speaks to me as a personal truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of nature, when I was talking to Dylan on the phone a while ago, I suddenly heard this loud tapping sound from my window. I had my back to it, so I thought that someone was throwing rocks or something. When I turned, I saw this figure moving at the bottom of the windowsill. For a second I thought it was some person who climbed to my second-story window. But I looked closer, and it was a bird! It was pecking at the glass for some crazy reason. It stopped and stared at me for a second and ducked down. Then it came back up and started pecking the window again. I wanted, for some reason (probably the animal lover in me), to open the window and let it in. But then it flew off. It was pretty cool. A wild bird not six feet away from me. Granted, there was a window between us; but it's still somewhat exhilarating watching a wild thing up close. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh!!! One last thing. You know the poem I submitted to the sonnet contest? I won 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; place!!!! And now a huge, banner-sized copy of it, along with copies of the other winning sonnets, are hanging in the lobby of the school. I, like, totally felt like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;celebrity&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;omg&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I must be off. Homework and all that dribble. Might go sacrifice a cow to the Death Goddess or something. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace, love, and blessed be all of ye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lisette&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1933269838792113902-8857047709626146526?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/8857047709626146526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=8857047709626146526' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/8857047709626146526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/8857047709626146526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/where-wild-things-are.html' title='Where The Wild Things Are'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-4312172556683776292</id><published>2007-04-22T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T12:51:21.681-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='and all that jazz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maple syrup'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='End of the Spear'/><title type='text'>The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn</title><content type='html'>10 boxes of pancake mix and I still have no maple syrup. If I had a waffle-iron and some whipped cream, maybe I'd be obliged to use some of the mix, but noooo; I. Have. Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people just don't understand the neccesity of syrup. Nevertheless, I did have my daily helping of pasta---something I think I need to lay off of sooner or later. I can barely live the day without pasta. That's not a good sign. We all know that the first step of addiction is, well, addiction. And the benifits of being addicted to carbs can only last so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've been inching along the past few days. Freezing, in contrast to sweating like a pig during soccer practice AND a mile run during PE on Thursday. Oh, the irony. Friday I went out to dinner with a few friends. We were quieted by the waiters at some point. Heh heh. Well, wha'dya know? Teenagers. (It was only once, Momma :D) Yesterday I went to this Youth Group movie night down the block from my house. Laying down on beanbags and chowing on popcorn, we watched End of the Spear. It's based on the true events of 5 missionaries being killed by a native tribe, the Aucas, in the jungles of Ecuador, and how the family of one of the missionaries came to live with the people. It really is an amazing movie. Half of it was in the Auca language, so we had to put on subtitles. Despite my head being in an awkward position to read the subtitles around a kid's head, I really loved the story. Just the nonjudgemental sublty of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being more than a little off the fundamentalist track, I enjoy watching a "Christian" movie that is actually more about that compassion one human feels for another human than people trying to convert savages. Not that I have any gripes with movies like Facing the Giants (to tell the truth, I really liked that movie), I just think that God/Goddess lays down paths for us to get to know and understand our fellow man moreso than for drawing our eyes to the heavens. I get warm fuzzies when I see that spiritual connection between people, in real life or on the big screen. No matter if you're Christian or Pagan, Muslim or Buddhist, Hindu or Atheist. It's really nice that we share one thing in common; love. Not the conditional, selective, attractive, easy, Mr.-Bingley-has-five-thousand-pounds-a-year kind of love, but the true, meaningful, simple kind of love. The kind of love that permits you to look past the black gauze of differences and old grudges at a family reunion. The kind of love that opens the door for a stranger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kind of love that allows a person to forgive the man who killed his father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone makes mistakes. Most of us makes some pretty darn big ones. But at the end of the proverbial day, we are able to find a way to remember that woman who eyed your husband, that punk who cut in front of you in the ticket line, that kid who picked on you in grade school, that guy who gets on your nerves every day; you remember that they are human just like you and me. Okay, so maybe tomorrow they are just waiting to tick you off again, but that's the way this crazy world of ours turns. You meet people, you deal with them as you will, and often you forget to wear deoderant. Those bumps in the road are learning experiences. Beat them bloody, glare, cry, yell at them for a good long while...and move on. I love every one of you guys visiting my page, even if you are some deranged maniac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, maybe there is some pity thrown into that love. But I'm not telling. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I get off my soapbox, I'd like to announce that I am a TEENAGER WHO LIKES TO THINK SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING. Unfortunetly, there are those who enjoy opposing that sentiment. I'd like to thank them, even though I simmer with rage when they do. Wisdom and arrogance have a fine line drawn somewhere, and I know I deserve to fall off my high horse when I start to linger on the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, kisses and hugs and a touch of vodka for those of age. I hope you enjoyed my splurting. If not, blame my mother. She nagged me into writing another blog today. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1933269838792113902-4312172556683776292?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4312172556683776292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=4312172556683776292' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/4312172556683776292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/4312172556683776292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/greatest-thing-youll-ever-learn.html' title='The Greatest Thing You&apos;ll Ever Learn'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-725089379119294869</id><published>2007-04-18T16:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T17:26:01.587-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='opinions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Virginia Tech'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gun control'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='violence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shootings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humans'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='questions'/><title type='text'>Put Your Records On</title><content type='html'>I don't understand why our world has to be so messed up sometimes. One moment I'm listening to the sweet voice of Corinne Bailey Rae or laughing with friends, and the next my heart is getting frozen from the inside out when I hear that 32 people have been shot at Virginia Tech.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really know what to say in this blog, so try to stay with me as I try to gather my thoughts about this subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are too many things you can say about this, and that people have already said about this. One of these "things" is gun control. Ever since Monday I've been hearing this subject over and over in my school and on the news; opinions from all sides. I hear the people demanding &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;stricter&lt;/span&gt; gun policies in the States, I hear people scolding &lt;em&gt;those&lt;/em&gt; people for being so insensitive to those who are still mourning their slaughtered friends and family, and I hear those who agree on both sides. I think I'm teetering toward the latter, personally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night my boyfriend, Dylan, and I talked extensively about this over the phone (don't worry, it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Vonage&lt;/span&gt;; no horrifying international charges ;) ). His opinion on the matter was that the gun control issue has been too loose for too long. You can buy a gun at your local &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart now. Of course, you get background checks, etc., but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Cho&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Seung&lt;/span&gt;-Hui was checked, and look what happened. I agreed that it is too easy for anyone to get access to guns these days. I think that the idea of my neighbor or my friend having a gun is chilling, no matter if I know their intentions or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes one thought, ONE THOUGHT with a gun and you can end a life. That's frightening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the military, the police force. Guns and other weapons are unavoidable in those jobs, I know that. But, for the most part, those weapons are handled by people who know what they're doing. I feel secure with that ideology (although there are always exceptions, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;unfortunately&lt;/span&gt;), and that's a completely different subject than the idea of some Average Joe going into a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart and purchasing a rifle after a 10-minute background check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People aren't stupid. They're lazy. They don't want to look red-tape and conflict in the face. And for those that do---there are just too few of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I think gun control will be processed and discuss heatedly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;among&lt;/span&gt; politicians? Initially, but the scare will die out in a few months. That's the worse-case scenario in my opinion. The public is just so fickle. It drives me mad. It seems all I can do is steam about it over the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; and put out my opinion when I can to convince my generation that if they want to go shoot something, it should keep to the video games and paintball fields.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think that society has anything to do with the overall horror that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Cho&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Seung&lt;/span&gt;-Hui created, no matter what he said. Yeah, people could have done more to keep an eye on him, or even the courts could have acted faster in deciding his mental situation, but I truly think it was his fault. Despite my idealistic nature, I feel that he messed himself up. He let himself fester in hate and violence without any intention of turning back. It was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;definite&lt;/span&gt; choice of his. I've known people who have that mindset on mankind, and on themselves. I've known people who just wallow in anger and hate, glorifying themselves as Princes of Darkness. I have had my time with the quiet, seething &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;despair&lt;/span&gt; of useless anger, but I always found in myself that spark of life that pulls me out of that hole almost instantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Cho&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Seung&lt;/span&gt;-Hui bought those guns. He never asked for help. He had blamed society when it had done nothing. He was insane, but he brought it upon himself. There are people like that, people I have, and still do, meet. No as far-gone, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; the beginning stages; those teenage years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, after all of this, I know there are a few things I need to do. Things I need to talk to my friends about. Things I need to change about myself and how I act toward some people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is so fragile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that all that is fragile so precious? And why have we come to a point where it is cast aside so easily?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are singing this in my choir. Every time we do, I get choked up. Today I had to force myself to only read the notes, and not the lyrics, because I knew if I did I would start to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Prayer of the Children by Kurt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Bestor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can you hear the prayer of the children? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;On bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown room &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Empty eyes with no more tears to cry &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Turning heavenward toward the light &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Crying Jesus, help me &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To see the morning light-of one more day &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But if I should die before I wake, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I pray my soul to take &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can you feel the hearts of the children? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Aching for home, for something of their very own &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Reaching hands, with nothing to hold on to, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But hope for a better day a better day &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Crying Jesus, help me &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To feel the love again in my own land &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But if unknown roads lead away from home, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Give me loving arms, away from harm &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can you hear the voice of the children? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Softly pleading for silence in a shattered world? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Angry guns preach a gospel full of hate, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Blood of the innocent on their hands &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Crying Jesus, help me &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To feel the sun again upon my face, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;For when darkness clears I know you're near, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bringing peace again &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dali &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;cujete&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;sve&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;djecje&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;molitive&lt;/span&gt;? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can you hear all the children's prayers?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can you hear the prayer of the children?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1933269838792113902-725089379119294869?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/725089379119294869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=725089379119294869' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/725089379119294869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/725089379119294869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/put-your-records-on.html' title='Put Your Records On'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-4289053319951385174</id><published>2007-04-16T14:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T02:43:20.603-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='acting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crazy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='schedule'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poems'/><title type='text'>What of Dreams?</title><content type='html'>Well, another day in the life of...well, me. Quick update for anyone not in the know-how:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a lot of creative endeavors at the moment and I struggling not to feel too panicked. I am a main part of the Shakesperian play "A Midsummer Night's Dream", doing a duet act for the drama festival, I'm performing in the choir festival (which is right after the drama festival), and I just finished writing a shakesperian sonnet for a contest today. And, of course, there is always that necsissary evil; homework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As many of you know, I'm not the best of organizers *cough*. BUT, I have everything under control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY, since I know you all are just &lt;em&gt;dying&lt;/em&gt; to read that sonnet I mentioned earlier, here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What of Dreams?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Soft is the slip of the mind into dreams-&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The soul is awash to that swirling pool;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Light is veiled, the sun surrenders its beams&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;An' the journey is set by Queen Mab's spool.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She unravels the thread of time and space:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Drift, dear dreamer, to Avalon's shore,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where pixies' play and witches' dance unlace&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your earthly troubles evermore, e'ermore.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Moon strikes shadows to hide the mys'tries,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And her strings of silver alight the ground&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To reveal the glitter of fairy trees&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Before the harps of the morning sound.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Though all dreams must end, and journeys must too;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Their whisper of magic will stay with you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I hope I get placed. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, speaking of homework, I need to work on some Animal Farm questions for English. Lots of love to everyone!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lisette&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1933269838792113902-4289053319951385174?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4289053319951385174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=4289053319951385174' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/4289053319951385174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/4289053319951385174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/what-of-dreams.html' title='What of Dreams?'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1933269838792113902.post-4866416975427442542</id><published>2007-04-15T17:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-15T18:15:12.271-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wish'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='american'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>The Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide is the Press Coverage</title><content type='html'>First blog on my blog! How extremely exciting. Although it is most likely that only a few friends and family will be reading this. But hey; that's the beauty of spilling your guts on the internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, maybe beauty isn't the right word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, what better to post than posting a post that you posted before about something deep and thoughtful? I thought so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is an old MySpace Blog entry/ies. All bundled and jumbled for your reading pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere in the world you find people who never move more than 50 miles, or less, from their hometown. Especially here, in the 'Southern United States, a ridiculous amount of people are so scared of new things, new places, new people, that they live in the same towns, raise the same families, do the same jobs, live the same damn life as their parents, their parents' parents, etc. etc. It's ridiculous. The cycle of closed-mindedness and fear is hurting our society. People don't care for the world. Either that or they are so inexperianced that they've built this fantasy, stereotypical world around themselves to fill in the gaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what's feeding this? TV. I'm not dead against news stations, but isn't it true that people are satisfied with learning "what's going on in the world" in a TV, taking what's being fed to them by nearly staged performances? Along with news stations, people tend to only know about other countries, other people, other states for that matter, only by movies, cartoons, sitcoms, etc. Therefore, children along with adults haare learning about stereotypes, which is offending in my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit, it's not technology that's cutting people off from the world. Quite the contrary, I believe. It's actually making it much easier. However, it does cut people off from experiancing the world. Looking back on these short paragraphs however, I realize that this is quite redundant. I'm not going to convince adults with this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can convice my generation. Humans have a natural urge to learn, gather information, experiance. Pride, easy-money, and welfare sufficates this urge. Many teens these days don't want to learn (though we are getting better at it). Why? Because they're afraid of making mistakes. How screwed up is that? We're human, and as humans, we mess up. We don't want to mess up, but we do. Some people are smarter than others, but does that mean that all those other kids who don't care about learning in schools and believe they'll be happy digging ditches for the rest of their lives can never experiance life? There are lessons of life that you can't learn in a classroom. And anyone can learn them if they really care to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've moved recently to Argentina. I left my home, and so many people I care about. I moved once before, to italy, but I never had any connections with my previous home. I just...went with the flow, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this time I actually felt something. I did not try to distance myself from anyone or anything this time. I feel a loss, and I've cried about it. I feel human, not just someone who wants to go with the flow, someone whose emotions adapt instantly to new circumstances. I don't want to helplessly accept that I will never see these people again, to forget the memories so easily. I want to be dragged kicking and screaming away from the people I love. I want to fight circumstances tooth and nail, even if there is no hope of changing them. I want to wrestle out of my mother's grasp just to hug and kiss my love one last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what? I'm just going to let you, the reader, into my mind for a second. See what I see. See if what I see is something that pulls at you. 'Cause it sure as hell pulls at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to live. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to see the Northern Lights in the barren white wastelands of the Artic.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to see the fantasy-like spirals on the roofs in Russia and Moracco. Hear the roar of an open ocean, with no human life for hundreds of miles in any direction. I want to learn a new language. I want to write a song about love, life, and absolute morphine-filled happiness and fire. I want to feel the vibrations of the world's biggest cities, with millions of souls mingling with mine, knowing that we are all connected. Even if some of us never know it. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to live.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to feel my heart break at the sight of the lowest of human situations. I want to meet people, catch a glimpse of thier soul even if I only know how to say 'Hi', or even less, in their native tongue. I want to speed down a clear interstate with nothing but the top down and my voice mingling with my favorite artist. I want to get a henna tattoo in India, and a blessed rosary from Rome. I want to get a snake for a pet and name him Steve after the Crocodile Hunter--God Bless his soul XD.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to live.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to learn the intoxicating tango, to swordfight like the great fictional and real swashbucklers of the past. I want to shop in the colorful, vibrant markets in Dahli, Mexico City, and Paris. I want to eat exotic cuisine which names I can't pronounce. I want to climb mountains, sky-dive, bunjee-jump, risk my skin with no remorse. I want to have a Divine Experiance. I want to see things I'm not 'supposed' to see. I want to climb Mount Everest and yell my love's name to the Heavens.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to live.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to write a novel. I want to act in a major blockbuster. I want to see the glaringly whitewashed, blue-roofed houses of Greece. I want to settle down with my soul mate. I want to raise the best family on earth. I want to make a difference in the world. I want to die fufilled and happy.....and in something gloriously romantic, like an epic battle. I want to love. I want to live.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I will. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/Life_by_shazeensamad.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/Life_by_shazeensamad.gif" 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/1933269838792113902-4866416975427442542?l=mytruconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4866416975427442542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1933269838792113902&amp;postID=4866416975427442542' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/4866416975427442542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1933269838792113902/posts/default/4866416975427442542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mytruconfessions.blogspot.com/2007/04/difference-between-martyrdom-and.html' title='The Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide is the Press Coverage'/><author><name>Lisette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12798954468613486245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='15' src='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a96/RogueWriter/sparta.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
