<?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-16471089</id><updated>2011-04-21T10:58:06.555-07:00</updated><category term='Great interviews'/><category term='lyrics in bed'/><category term='Living ife'/><category term='Care about people'/><category term='The Look'/><category term='Through the heart'/><category term='Questions'/><category term=':)'/><category term='love'/><category term='Meaningful song lyrics'/><category term='Esteem'/><category term='Recommended Books'/><category term='pm dawn'/><title type='text'>Thinking About Things</title><subtitle type='html'>Sometimes things happen, and I really want to write about it.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-1258803888507126976</id><published>2009-05-24T06:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T06:17:13.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Emotional Connection</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="text"&gt;four questions that  do help you to evaluate whether you have a deeper emotional connection&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text"&gt;The first is — Do I respect and admire this person?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this does not mean — Am I impressed with the person? Being impressed means, I’m impressed with her car, I’m impressed with her job, I’m impressed with the way they look. Being impressed is not respect, and please don’t confuse the two. So you must ask this question — Do I respect and do I admire this person? And then ask yourself specifically, what specifically do I respect and admire about this person. Respect and admiration are the fundamental emotional connection that we have with another person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text"&gt;The second question you must ask is — Do I trust this person? That again will put you in touch with a deeper emotion, a deeper feeling. Do I trust this person? Another way to ask this is — Can I rely on them? Do I feel I can rely on them? Do I trust their judgment? Do I trust their word? Can I believe what they say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text"&gt;The third question to ask is — Do I feel safe? Do I feel emotionally safe with this person? That means, can I be vulnerable? Can I be myself? Can I be open? Can I express myself? We’ll talk about this more in point seven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text"&gt;Do I feel calm and at peace with this person? That will also help you to get down to evaluating the deeper level of the emotional connection. Do I feel calm and peace? Now I think we all have a good friend, a&lt;!-- &lt;span style="float:right"&gt; &lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt; --&gt;&lt;!-- google_ad_client = "pub-6907411698043314"; google_ad_width = 160; google_ad_height = 90; google_ad_format = "160x90_0ads_al"; google_ad_channel ="3407189518"; google_color_border = "FFFFFF"; google_color_bg = "FFFFFF"; google_color_link = "0000FF"; google_color_url = "008000"; google_color_text = "000000"; //--&gt; &lt;!-- &lt;/script&gt; &lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js"&gt; &lt;/script&gt; &lt;/span&gt; --&gt;   good friend that when we’re with that person they do give us a sense of calm and peacefulness. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="text"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-1258803888507126976?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/1258803888507126976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=1258803888507126976&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1258803888507126976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1258803888507126976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2009/05/deep-emotional-connection.html' title='Deep Emotional Connection'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-5823597756961296172</id><published>2008-02-08T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T14:55:05.922-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"I think love is overrated&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's necessary but it's not sufficient"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Philip McGraw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R6zdtQA-g0I/AAAAAAAACqQ/EwBlsDKth4I/s1600-h/orange+hair.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R6zdtQA-g0I/AAAAAAAACqQ/EwBlsDKth4I/s320/orange+hair.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164746642150032194" 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/16471089-5823597756961296172?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/5823597756961296172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=5823597756961296172&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/5823597756961296172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/5823597756961296172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2008/02/quote.html' title='Quote'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R6zdtQA-g0I/AAAAAAAACqQ/EwBlsDKth4I/s72-c/orange+hair.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-7021652015773521207</id><published>2008-02-01T06:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T06:18:53.851-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pm dawn'/><title type='text'>This is confusing</title><content type='html'>They sing it well and I love listening to it but to read these words strung together the way they are I have no clue. When I restructure it the way I want to then it makes sense to me but otherwise&lt;br /&gt;Maybe they just wrote and wrote and decided "Ok, sounds good and fluffy, let's go for it!"&lt;br /&gt;Take a listen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=Oi0yJtSv4U0"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Looking Through Patient Eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Whatever it is I do, I try to think about you.&lt;br /&gt;I have a love for you that nothing hides.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever it is I do, Im always thinking of you.&lt;br /&gt;I hope you look at me through patient eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Ive become amused. Ive become blind.&lt;br /&gt;Ive become what I know not breathes.&lt;br /&gt;You seem illiterate to all my emotions.&lt;br /&gt;I stand corrected, how well you read.&lt;br /&gt;You speak the truth, you speak the me.&lt;br /&gt;You fell the love I have yet to find.&lt;br /&gt;I know its there, I know its there.&lt;br /&gt;But I let the sandcastles kill my mind.&lt;br /&gt;Pathetic me, I long to be you.&lt;br /&gt;They think Im close but I stand so far.&lt;br /&gt;The turbulent one sheds a turbulent tear.&lt;br /&gt;Im mr. love only cause they starve.&lt;br /&gt;Oil and water, lust and sympathy.&lt;br /&gt;Ill life and death my way through the sun.&lt;br /&gt;Where originates all the pain that leaves.&lt;br /&gt;My memory a traumatic sponge and sings to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well define my love and attitude.&lt;br /&gt;Open up your mind and it will sing to you.&lt;br /&gt;You can always tell.&lt;br /&gt;But I know remorse so well.&lt;br /&gt;I left reality early due to the lack of love... reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(chorus)&lt;br /&gt;Whatever I do, I try to think about you.&lt;br /&gt;I seek the sympathy and I cant lie.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever it is I do, Im always thinking of you.&lt;br /&gt;I hope you look at me through patient eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The channel, a professional liar.&lt;br /&gt;How I long to contradict those vibes.&lt;br /&gt;Joni help me, I think Im falling.&lt;br /&gt;Its not the love and I quest the why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--pete rock mix only--&lt;br /&gt;I have yet to conquer my behavior&lt;br /&gt;In my reaction to the helpless vail.&lt;br /&gt;The great addiction to possess what isnt.&lt;br /&gt;Floating ships that refuse to sail.&lt;br /&gt;As mercys love to the featherless pigeon.&lt;br /&gt;Searchin through life through the blurriest vission.&lt;br /&gt;As mercys love to the heartless hand.&lt;br /&gt;Its candid rights as if the wrong understand.&lt;br /&gt;--end pete rock--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know, if Im right, Im right.&lt;br /&gt;But if Im wrong then show me Im wrong.&lt;br /&gt;The fear of pity is always awake.&lt;br /&gt;But infinite sympathy completely gone.&lt;br /&gt;Its the windows, the doors, the passageway to the truth.&lt;br /&gt;Oh my god, it echoes the mind.&lt;br /&gt;In total recall as wild as the deuce.&lt;br /&gt;Its so deceiving is the clouded heart.&lt;br /&gt;So superficial is the open wound.&lt;br /&gt;I caress the infinite light.&lt;br /&gt;That even at night.&lt;br /&gt;Overshadows the moon and sings to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, define my love, that lives with you.&lt;br /&gt;Even when I die, it will still sing to you.&lt;br /&gt;You can always tell if remorse has done you well...&lt;br /&gt;The misconstrued my answers due to the lack of love... reason.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-7021652015773521207?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/7021652015773521207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=7021652015773521207&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/7021652015773521207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/7021652015773521207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2008/02/this-is-confusing.html' title='This is confusing'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-6081332708945453964</id><published>2008-01-08T13:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T13:48:25.855-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lyrics in bed'/><title type='text'>Good Morning Heartache</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Billie Holiday&lt;br /&gt;Good Morning Heartache&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQ3PVm6YbmU&amp;amp;NR=1"&gt;Watch and listen&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good morning heartache&lt;br /&gt;You old gloomy sight&lt;br /&gt;Good morning heartache&lt;br /&gt;Thought we said goodbye last night&lt;br /&gt;I turned and tossed until it seems you heve gone&lt;br /&gt;But here you are with the dawn&lt;br /&gt;Wish I forget you, but youre here to stay&lt;br /&gt;It seems I met you&lt;br /&gt;When my love went away&lt;br /&gt;Now everyday I stop Im saying to you&lt;br /&gt;Good morning heartache whats new&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="The image “http://us.ent1.yimg.com/images.launch.yahoo.com/000/017/370/17370819.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." src="http://us.ent1.yimg.com/images.launch.yahoo.com/000/017/370/17370819.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop haunting me now&lt;br /&gt;Cant shake you nohow&lt;br /&gt;Just leave me alone&lt;br /&gt;Ive got those monday blues&lt;br /&gt;Straight to sunday blues&lt;br /&gt;Good morning heartache&lt;br /&gt;Here we go again&lt;br /&gt;Good morning heartache&lt;br /&gt;Youre the one&lt;br /&gt;Who knows me well&lt;br /&gt;Might as well get use to you hanging around&lt;br /&gt;Good morning heartache&lt;br /&gt;Sit down&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-6081332708945453964?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/6081332708945453964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=6081332708945453964&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/6081332708945453964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/6081332708945453964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2008/01/good-morning-heartache.html' title='Good Morning Heartache'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-2940007363865922036</id><published>2007-12-28T07:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T07:19:51.125-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mouths and minds</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="role_document"    style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#a33224;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#a33224;"&gt;Every time we open our mouths, people look into  our minds...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R3UUDI39qBI/AAAAAAAACZc/0lZxoo7ofmo/s1600-h/crying+sit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R3UUDI39qBI/AAAAAAAACZc/0lZxoo7ofmo/s320/crying+sit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149043793122404370" 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/16471089-2940007363865922036?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/2940007363865922036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=2940007363865922036&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/2940007363865922036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/2940007363865922036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/12/mouths-and-minds.html' title='Mouths and minds'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R3UUDI39qBI/AAAAAAAACZc/0lZxoo7ofmo/s72-c/crying+sit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-3221706201221165607</id><published>2007-12-10T07:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T07:46:17.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Butterflies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Butterflies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Sia Furler as Sia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been to the top, we've been to the bottom&lt;br /&gt;We've known everything and forgotten, yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've kicked me around, you've wrapped me in cotton&lt;br /&gt;You've carried our load, and you've shot 'em&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes the butterflies are still there&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes the butterflies are still there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've argued by the baggage claim&lt;br /&gt;We've accepted and we've laid blame&lt;br /&gt;We've drank Sangthip in monsoonal rain&lt;br /&gt;We've felt separate and felt the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes the butterflies are still there&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes the butterflies are still there&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes the butterflies are still there&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes the butterflies are still there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've shared joy and we've shared pain&lt;br /&gt;We've shared guilt and we've shared shame&lt;br /&gt;We've bought into the stupid games&lt;br /&gt;We've freed each other and we laid claim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes the butterflies are still there&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes the butterflies are still there&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes the butterflies are still there&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes the butterflies are still there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-3221706201221165607?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/3221706201221165607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=3221706201221165607&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3221706201221165607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3221706201221165607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/12/butterflies.html' title='Butterflies'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-6167111293065253545</id><published>2007-12-10T07:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T07:48:37.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Somersault</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Somersault Lyrics&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Artist(Band):&lt;b&gt;Zero 7&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the prince to my ballerina&lt;br /&gt;You feed other people's parking meters&lt;br /&gt;You encourage the eating of ice cream&lt;br /&gt;You would somersault in sand with me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You talk to loners, you ask how's your week&lt;br /&gt;You give love to all and give love to me&lt;br /&gt;You're obsessed with hiding the sticks and stones&lt;br /&gt;When I fear the unknown&lt;br /&gt;You feel like home, you feel like home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You put my feet back on the ground&lt;br /&gt;Did you know you brought me around&lt;br /&gt;You were sweet, and you were sound&lt;br /&gt;You saved me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the warmth in my summer breeze&lt;br /&gt;You're the ivory to my ebony keys&lt;br /&gt;You would share your last jelly bean&lt;br /&gt;You would somersault in sand with me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="width: 374px; height: 246px;" src="http://thecia.com.au/reviews/g/images/guess-who-9.jpg" alt="Guess who" title="Guess who" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You put my feet back on the ground&lt;br /&gt;Did you know you brought me around&lt;br /&gt;You were sweet and you were sound&lt;br /&gt;You saved me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You put my feet back on the ground&lt;br /&gt;Did you know you brought me around&lt;br /&gt;You were sweet and you were sound&lt;br /&gt;See I had shrunk yet still you wore me around&lt;br /&gt;And 'round and 'round&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-6167111293065253545?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/6167111293065253545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=6167111293065253545&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/6167111293065253545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/6167111293065253545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/12/somersault.html' title='Somersault'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-3005926601736213080</id><published>2007-12-08T20:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-08T20:14:13.264-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Anais Nin</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Love never dies a natural death.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;-Anais Nin&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-3005926601736213080?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/3005926601736213080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=3005926601736213080&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3005926601736213080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3005926601736213080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/12/anais-nin.html' title='Anais Nin'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-1536328028169101377</id><published>2007-12-07T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T14:40:29.381-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I like</title><content type='html'>"Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am only one, but still I am one.  I cannot do everything, but still I can do something." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I prefer to be true to myself, even at the hazard incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false, and to incur my own abhorrence."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are not judged on the height you have risen but on the depth from which you have climbed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The soul that is within me no man can degrade."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nobody ever understands what a pioneer is doing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"It is very easy to break down something.  Throw a stone through a window; that is easy.  Try fixing it, and that takes longer."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do your little bit of good where you are; it is those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get--only with what you are expecting to give--which is everything."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thinking is the hardest work there is, which is the probable reason so few engage in it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-1536328028169101377?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/1536328028169101377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=1536328028169101377&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1536328028169101377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1536328028169101377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-like.html' title='I like'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-9090286526241100918</id><published>2007-12-06T05:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T05:26:14.346-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Through the heart'/><title type='text'>Emotional Safety</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: normal;"&gt;                             Emotional safety is something you need to strive for                              in yourself and look for in another person.                               Specifically, individuals who love themselves and                              work at becoming whole have reached a point where                              emotional safety is a natural part of who they are.                               It’s a two-way street of openness, vulnerability and                              acceptance reflected in a combination of words, body                              language and attitudes.&lt;/p&gt;                             &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Meeting the criteria for being                              in an emotionally safe relationship can be defined                              by  the following qualities in both partners:&lt;/p&gt;                             &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;            • Respecting and                              setting limits and boundaries&lt;/p&gt;                             &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;            • Telling the truth                              consistently and compassionately&lt;/p&gt;                             &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;            • Not becoming                              enmeshed or co-dependent&lt;/p&gt;                             &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;            • Not using                              anything you reveal - information, fears or                              vulnerabilities -against you&lt;/p&gt;                             &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;            • Feeling  you can                              be open and not having to protect yourself&lt;/p&gt;                             &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;            • Not being                              judgmental and blaming&lt;/p&gt;                             &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;            • Sharing fears,                              insecurities, flaws and weaknesses&lt;/p&gt;                             &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The key to emotional safety is                              the ability to connect with another through the                              heart.  This connection presupposes that each                              individual has done some inner work and is able to                              accept themselves and others without judgment.  It                              is this work that is vital to the individual and                              totally supports the relationship.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R1f3wVmr2NI/AAAAAAAACRc/-BRyHqN9CBo/s1600-h/jeweled+woman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R1f3wVmr2NI/AAAAAAAACRc/-BRyHqN9CBo/s320/jeweled+woman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140849909471893714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                             &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In truth, we can’t be                              emotionally safe all the time, even with the most                              loving partner.  There will be breakdowns in any                              relationship.  People who love each other may hurt                              each other unintentionally.  As much as we may love                              someone, we can never anticipate another person’s                              needs.  No one can read your mind, no matter how                              intimate and loving they are.  We need to                              communicate honestly when someone has hurt us.  Then                              we need to forgive ourselves and another and learn                              from the experience and move on.&lt;/p&gt;                             The key to emotional safety is authenticity.  Honest                              and authentic communication is critical  to                              developing and maintaining  healthy relationships.                               You must be open to hear feedback, both positive and                              negative, acknowledging that another’s perspective                              might be different  from yours.  This openness is                              the path towards becoming more emotionally safe and                              finding others who are emotionally safe for you. We                              can’t stress this enough. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R1f4X1mr2OI/AAAAAAAACRk/RggAgvmITV8/s1600-h/churchthinkeyes.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R1f4X1mr2OI/AAAAAAAACRk/RggAgvmITV8/s320/churchthinkeyes.0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140850588076726498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BE AUTHENTIC in all your                              relationships and communications with other people.                               DON’T JUDGE OTHERS.  BE OPEN TO FEEDBACK.                               COMMUNICATE.  The ability to say no connects you                              with your own authentic power so you only do things                              that support you.  Be honest and open and connect to                              others through your heart.  And finally, be                              committed to only choosing relationships that are                              emotionally safe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-9090286526241100918?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/9090286526241100918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=9090286526241100918&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/9090286526241100918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/9090286526241100918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/12/emotional-safety.html' title='Emotional Safety'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/R1f3wVmr2NI/AAAAAAAACRc/-BRyHqN9CBo/s72-c/jeweled+woman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-1178089621976608559</id><published>2007-12-03T06:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T06:10:02.692-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Meaningful song lyrics'/><title type='text'>Closer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Closer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;By Charlie Hall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful are the words spoken to me&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful is the one who speaking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHORUS:&lt;br /&gt;Come in close, come in close and speak&lt;br /&gt;Come in close, come closer to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful are the words spoken to me&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful is the one who speaking&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BRIDGE:&lt;br /&gt;The power of your words are filled with grace and mercy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Let them fall on my ears and break my stony heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-1178089621976608559?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/1178089621976608559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=1178089621976608559&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1178089621976608559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1178089621976608559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/12/closer.html' title='Closer'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-5990861169179412250</id><published>2007-12-01T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T13:21:22.482-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffee Shop Lyrics</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Falling In Love at a Coffee Shop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Landon Pigg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you&lt;br /&gt;yes theres a chance thatI've fallen quite hard over you.&lt;br /&gt;I've seen the paths that your eyes wander down&lt;br /&gt;I want to come too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one understands me quite like you do&lt;br /&gt;Through all of the shadowy corners of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop&lt;br /&gt;i love so much&lt;br /&gt;all of the while i never knew&lt;br /&gt;i never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop&lt;br /&gt;i love so much&lt;br /&gt;all of the while i never knew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think that possibly, maybe im falling for you&lt;br /&gt;yes theres a chance that ive fallen quite hard over you.&lt;br /&gt;ive seen the waters that make your eyes shine&lt;br /&gt;now im shining too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because oh because&lt;br /&gt;ive fallen quite hard over&lt;br /&gt;over you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if i didnt know you, id rather not know&lt;br /&gt;if i couldnt have you, i'd rather be alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop&lt;br /&gt;i love so much&lt;br /&gt;all of the while i never knew&lt;br /&gt;i never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop&lt;br /&gt;i love so much&lt;br /&gt;all of the while, i never knew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all of the while , all of the while&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-5990861169179412250?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/5990861169179412250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=5990861169179412250&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/5990861169179412250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/5990861169179412250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/12/coffee-shop-lyrics.html' title='Coffee Shop Lyrics'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-6926606493165198305</id><published>2007-11-29T09:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T09:43:31.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lock</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;“To love at all is to be vulnerable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-C.S. Lewis&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-6926606493165198305?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/6926606493165198305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=6926606493165198305&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/6926606493165198305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/6926606493165198305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/11/lock.html' title='Lock'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-1197747611243980536</id><published>2007-11-15T05:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T09:37:17.579-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bleeding Hearts</title><content type='html'>From the movie Love Actually...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Trouble with Love Is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love can be a many splendored thing&lt;br /&gt;Can't deny the joy it brings&lt;br /&gt;A dozen roses, diamond rings&lt;br /&gt;Dreams for sale and fairy tales&lt;br /&gt;It'll make you hear a symphony&lt;br /&gt;And you just want the world to see&lt;br /&gt;But like a drug that makes you blind,&lt;br /&gt;It'll fool ya every time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trouble with love is&lt;br /&gt;It can tear you up inside&lt;br /&gt;Make your heart believe a lie&lt;br /&gt;It's stronger than your pride&lt;br /&gt;The trouble with love is&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't care how fast you fall&lt;br /&gt;And you can't refuse the call&lt;br /&gt;See, you got no say at all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rz8ms8LfZ2I/AAAAAAAACEE/HR8f1PfqOAU/s1600-h/long+white+dress.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rz8ms8LfZ2I/AAAAAAAACEE/HR8f1PfqOAU/s320/long+white+dress.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133864653736077154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I was once a fool, it's true&lt;br /&gt;I played the game by all the rules&lt;br /&gt;But now my world's a deeper blue&lt;br /&gt;I'm sadder, but I'm wiser too&lt;br /&gt;I swore I'd never love again&lt;br /&gt;I swore my heart would never mend&lt;br /&gt;Said love wasn't worth the pain&lt;br /&gt;But then I hear it call my name&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The trouble with) The trouble with love is&lt;br /&gt;It can tear you up inside&lt;br /&gt;Make your heart believe a lie&lt;br /&gt;It's stronger than your pride&lt;br /&gt;The trouble with love is&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't care how fast you fall&lt;br /&gt;And you can't refuse the call&lt;br /&gt;See, you got no say at all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I turn around&lt;br /&gt;I think I've got it all figured out&lt;br /&gt;My heart keeps callin' and I keep on fallin'&lt;br /&gt;Over and over again&lt;br /&gt;This sad story always ends the same&lt;br /&gt;Me standin' in the pourin' rain&lt;br /&gt;It seems no matter what I do&lt;br /&gt;It tears my heart in two&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The trouble with love is) The trouble with love, yeah&lt;br /&gt;(It can tear you up inside) It can tear you up inside&lt;br /&gt;(Make your heart believe a lie) Make your heart believe a lie&lt;br /&gt;It's stronger than your pride&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The trouble with love is)&lt;br /&gt;It's in your heart&lt;br /&gt;It's in your soul (doesn't care how fast you fall)&lt;br /&gt;You won't get no control&lt;br /&gt;(and you can't refuse the call)&lt;br /&gt;See, you got no say at all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The trouble with love is) Oh, yeah&lt;br /&gt;(It can tear you up inside)&lt;br /&gt;(Make your heart believe a lie)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-1197747611243980536?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/1197747611243980536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=1197747611243980536&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1197747611243980536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1197747611243980536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/11/bleeding-hearts.html' title='Bleeding Hearts'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rz8ms8LfZ2I/AAAAAAAACEE/HR8f1PfqOAU/s72-c/long+white+dress.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-5164321783590036213</id><published>2007-11-10T05:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T05:55:22.834-08:00</updated><title type='text'>True</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, Monospace;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Have more than though showest; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;speak less than thou knowest; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;lend less than thou owest" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, Monospace;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, Monospace;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-5164321783590036213?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/5164321783590036213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=5164321783590036213&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/5164321783590036213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/5164321783590036213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/11/true.html' title='True'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-102730630002193551</id><published>2007-11-04T16:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T06:14:07.915-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heart Sings</title><content type='html'>And when the song is over&lt;br /&gt;We've all said Amen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Ry5gSQii5jI/AAAAAAAAB9k/4aK9J-LvV7k/s1600-h/dchurchspiritualnap.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Ry5gSQii5jI/AAAAAAAAB9k/4aK9J-LvV7k/s320/dchurchspiritualnap.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129142892415346226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your heart just keeps on singing&lt;br /&gt;And the song will never end&lt;br /&gt;And if somebody asks you&lt;br /&gt;was it just a show&lt;br /&gt;Lift your hand and a be a witness&lt;br /&gt;And tell the whole world no&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-102730630002193551?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/102730630002193551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=102730630002193551&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/102730630002193551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/102730630002193551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/11/heart-sings.html' title='Heart Sings'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Ry5gSQii5jI/AAAAAAAAB9k/4aK9J-LvV7k/s72-c/dchurchspiritualnap.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-1086282510416561731</id><published>2007-11-04T10:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T10:14:53.690-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just as she is</title><content type='html'>Mark Darcy tells Bridget he likes her just as she is&lt;br /&gt;Her friends react in disbelief&lt;br /&gt;"Not Thinner?"&lt;br /&gt;"Not Cleverer?"&lt;br /&gt;"Not with bigger boobs?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, just as she is...&lt;br /&gt;Lovely :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-1086282510416561731?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/1086282510416561731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=1086282510416561731&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1086282510416561731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1086282510416561731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/11/just-as-she-is.html' title='Just as she is'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-3678859938336756177</id><published>2007-10-30T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T10:10:17.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote I liked</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="datawrap"&gt;Live in the Fast Lane....die on the Shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;Read proverbs...you'll get it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-3678859938336756177?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/3678859938336756177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=3678859938336756177&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3678859938336756177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3678859938336756177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/10/quote-i-liked.html' title='Quote I liked'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-2725473252067980772</id><published>2007-10-29T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T15:31:18.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friendship</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="f"   style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;True Friendship - Recognition&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can we find true friendship in this often phony, temporary world? Friendship involves recognition or familiarity with another's personality. Friends often share likes and dislikes, interests, pursuits, and passion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can we recognize potential friendship? Signs include a mutual desire for companionship and perhaps a common bond of some kind. Beyond that, genuine friendship involves a shared sense of caring and concern, a desire to see one another grow and develop, and a hope for each other to succeed in all aspects of life. True friendship involves action: doing something for someone else while expecting nothing in return; sharing thoughts and feelings without fear of judgment or negative criticism. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="f"   style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;True Friendship - Relationship, Trust, Accountability&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True friendship involves relationship. Those mutual attributes we mentioned above become the foundation in which recognition transpires into relationship. Many people say, "Oh, he's a good friend of mine," yet they never take time to spend time with that "good friend." Friendship takes time: time to get to know each other, time to build shared memories, time to invest in each other's growth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust is essential to true friendship. We all need someone with whom we can share our lives, thoughts, feelings, and frustrations. We need to be able to share our deepest secrets with someone, without worrying that those secrets will end up on the Internet the next day! Failing to be trustworthy with those intimate secrets can destroy a friendship in a hurry. Faithfulness and loyalty are key to true friendship. Without them, we often feel betrayed, left out, and lonely. In true friendship, there is no backbiting, no negative thoughts, no turning away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True friendship requires certain accountability factors. Real friends encourage one another and forgive one another where there has been an offense. Genuine friendship supports during times of struggle. Friends are dependable. In true friendship, unconditional love develops. We love our friends no matter what and we always want the best for our friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="f"   style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;True Friendship - Examples of Real Friendship&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True friendship stories are found throughout the Bible. In Genesis 18:17-33, we read about God sharing His intentions with Abraham. Abraham responds by telling God his thoughts and feelings about the situation. God and Abraham are able to do this because they trust and respect each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Samuel 20 focuses on the friendship of David and Jonathan. These two men truly cared for each other and had great trust and confidence in one another. David was running for his life from Jonathan's father, Saul. Jonathan recognized that David was innocent. Because of the true friendship they shared, David survived Saul's assassination attempts and went on to become one of Israel's greatest kings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Real and true friendship involves freedom of choice, accountability, truth, and forgiveness. Peter and Jesus give us this example: Peter, afraid for his life after Jesus is led away from the Garden of Gethsemane, denies knowing Jesus (John 18). As He is led away by His accusers, Jesus casts a look toward Peter that says, "I knew you would deny Me, and I forgive you" (John 21).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Real friendship looks at the heart, not just the "packaging." Genuine friendship loves for love's sake, not just for what it can get in return. True friendship is both challenging and exciting. It risks, it overlooks faults, and it loves unconditionally, but it also involves being truthful, even though it may hurt. Genuine friendship, also called "agape" love, comes from the Lord. The Lord Jesus calls us His friends and He laid down His life for us (John 15).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relationships in real life involve different levels of friendships, and that's okay. But humans are designed by God for lasting relationships. Often our isolationist society offers only vague, empty relationships. God wants us to have friends here on earth. Most of all, He wants us to be friends with Him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God's Word tells us that a friend sticks closer than a brother, and that in order for one to be a friend, one must show themselves friendly (Proverbs 18:24). The question is: what type of friend do you desire to be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proverbs 18:19 in the New Living Translation says: "It's harder to make amends with an offended friend than to capture a fortified city. Arguments separate friends like a gate locked with iron bars." When we've offended a true friend - whether by breaking a trust or by speaking the truth with love - we risk losing that friendship. We must be careful not to break the trust. But when not speaking the truth will cause greater hurt in our friend's life, we must be willing to sacrifice our needs for those of our friend. That is true friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we sometimes offend a friend without meaning to, God's Word offers a solution. It's called forgiveness. There is no greater example than the love of God for us. It so great that He gave His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, in order that our friendship with God might be restored. He did that in spite of the fact that we have offended Him deeply. We have disobeyed His commands, turned our backs on Him, and followed our own path. So the question remains: What type of friend do you want to be? True Christian friendship forgives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you need a friend? God wants to be your true friend. Are you longing for companionship? God is always with you (Hebrews 13:5). Who do you know who needs a true friend today? God wants you to befriend others. He calls us to be His hands and feet in a world starving for true friendship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;http://www.allaboutgod.com/true-friendship.htm&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="f"   style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-2725473252067980772?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/2725473252067980772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=2725473252067980772&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/2725473252067980772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/2725473252067980772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/10/friendship.html' title='Friendship'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-2172164421941333672</id><published>2007-10-26T13:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T13:42:38.412-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reason and Season</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:navy;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:navy;"  &gt; People come into your life for a reason, a season or  a lifetime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:navy;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:navy;"  &gt;When you kno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:navy;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:navy;"  &gt;w which one  it is, you will know what to do for that person..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:navy;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:navy;"  &gt;When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is  usually to meet a need you have expressed.&lt;br /&gt;They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to  provide you with guidance and support,&lt;br /&gt;to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.  They may seem like a godsend and they are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:navy;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:navy;"  &gt;They are there for the reason you need them to be.&lt;br /&gt;Then, without any wrongdoing on your  part or at an inconvenient time,&lt;br /&gt;this person will say or do something to bring the  relationship to an end.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes  they die. Sometimes they walk away.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.&lt;br /&gt;What we must realize is that our  need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done.&lt;br /&gt;The prayer you sent up has been  answered and now it is time to move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RyJRDQii4vI/AAAAAAAAB3I/VIIhWT6JReA/s1600-h/dchurcreflectionsofaqueen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RyJRDQii4vI/AAAAAAAAB3I/VIIhWT6JReA/s320/dchurcreflectionsofaqueen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125748442322363122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because  your turn has come to share, grow or learn.&lt;br /&gt;They bring you an experience of peace or make you  laugh.&lt;br /&gt;They may teach you something  you have never done.&lt;br /&gt;They usually  give you an unbelievable amount of joy.&lt;br /&gt;Believe it, it is real. But only for a season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:navy;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:navy;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons,&lt;br /&gt;things you must build upon in order  to have a solid emotional foundation.&lt;br /&gt;Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person and  put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of  your life.&lt;br /&gt;It is said that love is  blind but friendship is clairvoyant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:green;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:green;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:13;color:black;"   &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-2172164421941333672?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/2172164421941333672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=2172164421941333672&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/2172164421941333672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/2172164421941333672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/10/reason-and-season.html' title='Reason and Season'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RyJRDQii4vI/AAAAAAAAB3I/VIIhWT6JReA/s72-c/dchurcreflectionsofaqueen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-4217022073934394241</id><published>2007-10-22T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T09:42:16.624-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Redwine Versus Eiswine</title><content type='html'>I don't feel so good today. It will pass soon...&lt;br /&gt;Some people need my help and I don't know what to say..I hope it is the right thing...whatever it is..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rz8n38LfZ3I/AAAAAAAACEM/D0O9ttUyaAQ/s1600-h/churchcaanan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rz8n38LfZ3I/AAAAAAAACEM/D0O9ttUyaAQ/s320/churchcaanan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133865942226265970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems like everybody close is in the doldrums this week so far. What is happening?&lt;br /&gt;Last week I think maybe everyone was pretending to be fine...&lt;br /&gt;At least that is what one person admitted to me..now they can't deal.&lt;br /&gt;It is going to be a long week of meeting and talking and reassuring and being straight up,  that is for sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-4217022073934394241?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/4217022073934394241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=4217022073934394241&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/4217022073934394241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/4217022073934394241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/10/redwine-versus-eiswine.html' title='Redwine Versus Eiswine'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rz8n38LfZ3I/AAAAAAAACEM/D0O9ttUyaAQ/s72-c/churchcaanan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-1398125049590732695</id><published>2007-08-21T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T17:40:26.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Invitation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Invitation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me what u do for a living. I want to know what u ache for, and if u dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me how old u are. I want to know if u will risk looking a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if u have touched the center of your own sorrow, if u have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if u can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if u can be with joy, mine or your own, if u can dance with wildness and let the ecstacy fill u to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RsuF00PTVSI/AAAAAAAABi8/RipjvjukaYE/s1600-h/MVC-019F.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RsuF00PTVSI/AAAAAAAABi8/RipjvjukaYE/s320/MVC-019F.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101318145349735714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me if the story u are telling me is true. I want to know if u can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if u can bare the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul, if u can be faithless and therefore be trustworthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if u can see beauty, even when it's not pretty, every day, and if u can source your own life from it's presence. I want to know if u can live with failure, yours or mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "YES!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me to know where u live or how much money u have. I want to know if u can get up after the night of grief and dispair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me who u know or how u came to be here. I want to know if u will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me where, or what, or with whom u have studied. I want to know what sustains u, from the inside, when all else falls away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if u can be alone with yourself and if u truly like the company u keep in the empty moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Indian Elder&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-1398125049590732695?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/1398125049590732695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=1398125049590732695&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1398125049590732695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1398125049590732695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/08/invitation.html' title='The Invitation'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RsuF00PTVSI/AAAAAAAABi8/RipjvjukaYE/s72-c/MVC-019F.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-6671205014591988011</id><published>2007-08-05T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T19:25:38.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Scavo versus Rick Colletti</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I know its only a tv show but let's imagine that it's not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Desperate Housewives brought in a new character Rick Colettei played by Jason Gedrick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;He plays Scavo pizzeria's new employee who is interested in Lynnette Scavo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lynette has always had to 'carry' her husband Tom emotionally. If he succeeded it was always because Lynette did a lot of work to make sure that that happened.&lt;br /&gt;While Tom has his good qualities and cares for Lynette, it seems as if Lynet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;te is always paying for his mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RraFiRw8ZdI/AAAAAAAABg8/qhYehLjJP3s/s1600-h/gedricktomdesperate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RraFiRw8ZdI/AAAAAAAABg8/qhYehLjJP3s/s320/gedricktomdesperate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095406852347028946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rick is new (lets forget that new means you don't know the guy very well)&lt;br /&gt;Rick seems strong emotionally (not really because he's a recovering addict-but lets jus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;t forget that for now)&lt;br /&gt;Rick is always there for Lynette&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RraE5Bw8ZbI/AAAAAAAABgs/vcCy3iHv8J0/s1600-h/gedrickhug.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RraE5Bw8ZbI/AAAAAAAABgs/vcCy3iHv8J0/s320/gedrickhug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095406143677425074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Emotionally, Rick is the support for Lynnette.&lt;br /&gt;Lynette can talk to him openly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RraFLRw8ZcI/AAAAAAAABg0/EsuUrQFA3Fs/s1600-h/gedricktalk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RraFLRw8ZcI/AAAAAAAABg0/EsuUrQFA3Fs/s320/gedricktalk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095406457210037698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rick actually HELPS Lynnette&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;He inspired Lynette to wear her hair down, and THAT is one of the most important things to even happen to Lynette.&lt;br /&gt;She let her hair down.&lt;br /&gt;For once ..she was able to relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RraGFBw8ZeI/AAAAAAAABhE/ZMSXHPlNrPY/s1600-h/gerdricklynette+alone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RraGFBw8ZeI/AAAAAAAABhE/ZMSXHPlNrPY/s320/gerdricklynette+alone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095407449347483106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" class="fullpost"  &gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'd take a Rick over a Tom anyday....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to look at this situation in a more realistic light. For now it's about drama free Male-female relationships&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-6671205014591988011?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/6671205014591988011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=6671205014591988011&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/6671205014591988011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/6671205014591988011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/08/tom-scavo-versus-rick-colletti.html' title='Tom Scavo versus Rick Colletti'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RraFiRw8ZdI/AAAAAAAABg8/qhYehLjJP3s/s72-c/gedricktomdesperate.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-4491793830997200235</id><published>2007-07-03T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T11:15:20.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting...I wonder if everyone knows this</title><content type='html'>I got this from a friend, and wondered if  guys knew this...How easy life is but then....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any relationship has it's troubles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Sometimes, they are pretty manageable. Sometimes they are major, and painful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The process is usually similar... a man and woman meet... chemistry... fall in love...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And when a woman gives her heart, and really, really feels love for a man, it's really something to see. The love of a woman can be so powerful, and beautiful. The kind of love where she counts down the minutes until he gets home. The kind of love where she would bring home a huge Christmas tree and put it up, even while 6 months pregnant, just so she could surprise him. The kind of love where she will drive an hour out of her way, just to see him for five minutes, and kiss him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RoqRJmbrKPI/AAAAAAAABQ4/tL0n3BsMIBw/s1600-h/Passion-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RoqRJmbrKPI/AAAAAAAABQ4/tL0n3BsMIBw/s320/Passion-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083034723562498290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It's so powerful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But as we all know, often times, this passion begins to change, or fade. It is rarely because of the passage of time, as most women don't just enjoy the novelty of fresh love at first, but also the long-lasting love many dream of, a man they can count on, a man they are safe with. But often, it fades because of damage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Hurtful words. Hurtful actions. Things that cause mistrust or suspicion. And especially, things that cause her to lose respect and admiration for him. This is the toughest blow, because women are so resilient to pain, and willing to forgive, out of that deep love they have devoted to the man. They will even give a man the benefit of the doubt when it comes to mistrust, hoping against hope that his heart still belongs to her, and that he is faithful when he insists that he is. But respect... men's deepest need is often to be admired and respected... and when he does things, and says things, that trigger disgust, or hurts her and others with carelessness... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She cannot help but feel that disgust and shame against him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;At first, she may shrug it off, knowing her love must withstand, and that he's not perfect. Then she often tries to help him, encourage him, show him where he is causing the problem. Sadly, the man either just does &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; get it, or she can't seem to explain it correctly, or worse-  she gets ripped for it. And the admiration breaks down further..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And a woman may often begin treating him worse, from her disdain and disgust for what she has now seen. She thought, and hoped, he was a good man, but now her love shrinks away, like a hand pulling back from a hissing snake...  Now, she still 'loves' him.. but its like a dying campfire, soon to go out, and instead of feeding the flames and keeping it hot, he pours mud upon it with each new offense...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Add to this, that he responds badly to the problem, when she presents it. He either denies it, which makes him a liar since she knows she is correct, and this lying makes it worse... Or he says he is sorry, and vows to change and get better, but ultimately, his attempts are feeble, and he doesn't improve, further killing the fire that once was... and also making him a liar...  Or, he responds in hostility to the 'attack' she has brought, even though she really didn't mean to do that, it was more like a cry for help, begging him to stop trampling their fire, and breaking her heart, crushing her spirit... and now she can only withdraw and witness the collapse of her own heart, and even, her dreams...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And then it happens. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The feeling is lost. Usually, it comes like a revelation. Either from an event, or from just waking up one day and realizing-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The feeling is GONE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;the love is gone, it's gone... lost...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;No longer does she have any fight to save it. No longer does she feel anything positive for him. As if she fell into a sleep, and a dream when she loved him... the dream became a nightmare, and in that moment, she wakes up. She rubs the 'sleep' from her eyes, And the dream is over. Reality is upon her, and she begins to move.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Once she gets to this place, the dream is never recaptured. Not with him. She remembers the dream. It was so vivid. It was so intense. It became so painful. She remembers his name. But she can never fall asleep again, and fall into his arms again to feel that love, and give him what she once gave.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It may take her a while, to set herself right. These aren't things that are walked away from like the flip of a switch. But once this moment comes, once the flame is snuffed out, it's only a matter of time, and nothing can stop it. She will never feel it again, for him. She may stick around a while, see if she can rekindle the spark. See if it's really gone. And often, the man confirms it, doing more of the very same things, speaking the same ugly things that got him there...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Men often think they can do as they will. They see that the woman loves him. They see her deep forgiveness and desire for him. They see how she offers herself, and takes whatever bit of him she can get. Then they abuse it. They push it too far. They don't feed her fire, or give her enough. They neglect her. They trample her at will, knowing she will always love him, knowing her love is deep and important... yet not realizing, it can indeed be broken, it can be killed, and not realizing how very close they might be to this moment... And most of all, not realizing that if this moment occurs... he will never, never again, recapture her heart. A dream can't be recaptured...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Once she is finally... sadly awake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-4491793830997200235?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/4491793830997200235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=4491793830997200235&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/4491793830997200235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/4491793830997200235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/07/interestingi-wonder-if-everyone-knows.html' title='Interesting...I wonder if everyone knows this'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RoqRJmbrKPI/AAAAAAAABQ4/tL0n3BsMIBw/s72-c/Passion-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-929957497342769287</id><published>2007-06-22T19:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T19:41:04.596-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Meaningful song lyrics'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h1&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I love these lyrics from Diary of a Mad Black woman but I like Chandra Corelli's version better than Natalie Cole's. Pure Jazz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;h1&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003399;"&gt;Natalie Cole lyrics,&lt;br /&gt;I Wanna Love Again lyrics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/h1&gt;   Ah baby&lt;br /&gt;How do I start? Where do I begin?&lt;br /&gt;I've been hurt so much. I just need a friend&lt;br /&gt;Could it be you? Will you break through these walls?&lt;br /&gt;Are you willing to help them fall?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;I want to love again, but I'm afraid to&lt;br /&gt;I want to trust again&lt;br /&gt;But my heart says not to&lt;br /&gt;Your every smile, your gentle touch makes weak&lt;br /&gt;I want you so much&lt;br /&gt;I want love again and this time with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h1&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RnyICilYXEI/AAAAAAAABPg/fabba_3gvxU/s1600-h/just.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RnyICilYXEI/AAAAAAAABPg/fabba_3gvxU/s320/just.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079084056991784002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that this would be so hard for me&lt;br /&gt;Being this close to you is driving me crazy&lt;br /&gt;My mind says no oh but my body says yes&lt;br /&gt;You make one move and I'll do the rest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to love again, but I'm afraid to&lt;br /&gt;I want to trust again&lt;br /&gt;But my heart says not to&lt;br /&gt;Your every smile, your gentle touch makes weak&lt;br /&gt;I want you so much&lt;br /&gt;I want to love again and this time with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bridge:&lt;br /&gt;Oh it's been so long since I've seen your face&lt;br /&gt;And I'm just trying to be strong, oh but I think about you everyday&lt;br /&gt;And it makes me weak when I see your face&lt;br /&gt;I guess it means I'm in a different space&lt;br /&gt;Cause I wanna love again and this time with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to love again but I'm afraid to&lt;br /&gt;I want to trust again&lt;br /&gt;But my heart says not to&lt;br /&gt;Your every smile, your gentle, gentle touch makes me weak&lt;br /&gt;I want you so much&lt;br /&gt;I want to love again, please let me love again, I want to love again&lt;br /&gt;And this time with you&lt;br /&gt;I just wanna love again with you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-929957497342769287?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/929957497342769287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=929957497342769287&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/929957497342769287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/929957497342769287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-love-these-lyrics-from-diary-of-mad.html' title=''/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RnyICilYXEI/AAAAAAAABPg/fabba_3gvxU/s72-c/just.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-2186151321232575070</id><published>2007-06-15T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-15T20:00:50.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;table border='0' cellpadding='5' cellspacing='0' width='450'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;img src="http://quizfarm.com//images/1129478548blue.jpg"  &gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;You scored as &lt;b&gt;Blue&lt;/b&gt;, Your heart is blue. You are a very calm and relaxed person. You are very caring and like helping others. You're grateful for what you have in life, even if it's not perfect. People love you for who you are, don't ever change that- it's what makes you the great person that you are.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;table border='0' width='250' cellspacing='0' cellpadding='0'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Blue&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='71' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;71%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Yellow&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='57' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;57%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Pink&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='57' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;57%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;White&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='32' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;32%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Black&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='32' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;32%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Purple&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='25' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;25%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Green&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='21' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;21%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Orange&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='7' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;7%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Red&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='4' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;4%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href='http://quizfarm.com/run.php/Quiz?quiz_id=3895'&gt;~What colour is your heart?~&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;created with &lt;a href='http://quizfarm.com'&gt;QuizFarm.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-2186151321232575070?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/2186151321232575070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=2186151321232575070&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/2186151321232575070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/2186151321232575070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/06/heart.html' title='Heart'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-9078236565101989282</id><published>2007-06-12T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T18:32:24.218-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>What does Love mean</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; ***WHAT DOES LOVE MEAN?***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?"&lt;br /&gt;The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore.&lt;br /&gt;So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."&lt;br /&gt;Rebecca- age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.&lt;br /&gt;You just know that your name is safe in their mouth"&lt;br /&gt;Billy - age 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."&lt;br /&gt;Karl - age 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."&lt;br /&gt;Chrissy - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."&lt;br /&gt;Terri - age 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."&lt;br /&gt;Danny - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rm9I7ClYWkI/AAAAAAAABLg/QNEkfUTla98/s1600-h/reflectionsofaqueen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rm9I7ClYWkI/AAAAAAAABLg/QNEkfUTla98/s320/reflectionsofaqueen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075355484212976194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.&lt;br /&gt;My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"&lt;br /&gt;Emily - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen"&lt;br /&gt;Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,"&lt;br /&gt;Nikka - age 6&lt;br /&gt;(we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."&lt;br /&gt;Noelle - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."&lt;br /&gt;Tommy - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.&lt;br /&gt;He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."&lt;br /&gt;Cindy - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My mommy loves me more than anybody&lt;br /&gt;You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."&lt;br /&gt;Clare - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."&lt;br /&gt;Elaine-age 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."&lt;br /&gt;Chris - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."&lt;br /&gt;Mary Ann - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."&lt;br /&gt;Lauren - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." (what an image)&lt;br /&gt;Karen - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross."&lt;br /&gt;Mark - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."&lt;br /&gt;Jessica - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing, I just helped him cry"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-9078236565101989282?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/9078236565101989282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=9078236565101989282&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/9078236565101989282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/9078236565101989282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/06/what-does-love-mean.html' title='What does Love mean'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rm9I7ClYWkI/AAAAAAAABLg/QNEkfUTla98/s72-c/reflectionsofaqueen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-7287564115580273511</id><published>2007-06-11T16:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-18T18:50:54.411-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term=':)'/><title type='text'>Better off single ?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you better off single?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;By Dawn Yanek&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Attention, unmarried people of America: You can splurge on a fancy new wristwatch without having to explain yourself. You can stay out till 3 a.m. without having to phone home. You can leave the toilet seat up. In fact, there are many, many ways that single life rocks, though you may forget that fact when your relatives are grilling you about settling down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only do you have the freedom to do anything you want—it's also the best time in history to be flying solo. The marriage rate has declined nearly 50 percent since 1970, according to the National Marriage Project at Rutgers University, and right now, there are approximately 100 million singles in the U.S. And there's strength in those numbers: "Today's choose-to-be singles differ from the poor-me singles of past generations; there's less of a stigma attached to being single, " says Jerusha Stewart, author of The Single Girl's Manifesta. "Singles are traveling, buying homes and doing everything they want to—you don't have to get married anymore to live your life with style."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Want more specifics on why you should celebrate being single? Here, 10 fascinating benefits to being unmarried:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason #1: You have a better body.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've all been there—you get into a relationship, and suddenly you're trying out new recipes all the time and cuddling instead of exercising. Well, things tend to get worse with marriage. A recent Cornell University study found that women generally gain five to eight pounds in the first few years of marriage and unhappily married women gain an average of 54 pounds in the first 10 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rnc0uClYXAI/AAAAAAAABPA/jxydq4LjZKg/s1600-h/like_bestlook%282%29.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rnc0uClYXAI/AAAAAAAABPA/jxydq4LjZKg/s320/like_bestlook%282%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077585070455806978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the unmarried, though, the motivation to stay slim remains: "Singles look at themselves through the eyes of others and want to be attractive to potential partners," says Susan Davis, Ph.D., a clinical psychologist in New York City, "so they're still 'working on themselves.'" In short, being single is way better than any New Year's resolution or exercise DVD to motivate you to stay in shape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason #2: You're more likely to achieve great things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing what you can accomplish when you have the time, the quiet and the lack of familial responsibilities. In fact, your premarital motivation to excel in life may be biologically programmed. According to a study conducted at the London School of Economics and Political Scientists, male scientists who stay single longer peak in their careers later in life and tend to be more productive than their married counterparts. Researchers theorize that men, in general, may show off their talents to win the interest of women and then, once they've won a wife, get comfortable and do less. In fact, studies have shown that testosterone levels, which boost action, decrease after a man gets married and has children. So single folk should know they are primed to achieve — whether that means turbo-charging their careers or honing their rock-climbing skills — and get out there and work it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason #3: You do less housework.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know that saying about a tree falling in a forest and there's no one there to hear it? Well, if you leave a sock on the floor but there's no one else there to see it, does it really need to be picked up? If you're a single woman, you can contemplate deep questions like this one because you have more free time. According to one study published in the Journal of Marriage and Family, women do less housework when single than when married. Men, on the other hand, do more housework when unmarried (that's probably because there's someone picking up after them once they're wed…). So the message here is for unmarried women to enjoy their less chore-filled life; fill those free hours with classes, good books, blabbing with friends—whatever makes you happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason #4: You can do what you want with your money—including keep it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go ahead: Splurge on that pricey moisturizer or that obscenely large plasma TV you've been lusting after. You don't have to justify your purchase to anyone but yourself. Once you mix money with marriage, though, things change—and fast. According to a survey by SmartMoney magazine, 40 percent of women and 36 percent of men have lied to their spouses about a purchase. "When you're single, your finances are your own," explains Phyllis Chase, a Los Angeles–based psychologist and co-host of the radio show Shrink Rap. "When you're married, you have to deal with different styles of spending and saving, and you may take on your partner's debt." And a marriage that doesn't make it for the long haul can also have a major negative effect on one's wealth. According to researchers at Ohio State University's Center for Human Resource Research, during a divorce, men and women generally lose three-fourths of their personal net worth. Double ouch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason #5: You have better sex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Married couples may have more sex (approximately 98 times a year vs. singles' 49), but singles have better sex. According to a recent study published in the British Medical Journal, married women are significantly more likely to report problems with their sex lives than single women. "People who are dating have better sex because it's novel," says Davis. "Married people have to relearn how to play. It's natural for singles because that's the nature of a courting relationship—they tease, they experiment, they explore." Nature lends a helping hand, too. According to researchers at the University of Pisa in Italy, raging testosterone levels in both men and women makes the sex hotter during the first two years of a relationship. After that, other hormones take over—most notably, oxytocin, a bonding chemical, kicks in. While getting connected and comfortable is a positive step in a relationship, long-term lovers have to work harder to keep things hot in the bedroom. Singles, however, sizzle just the way they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason #6: You're better rested and smarter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While snuggling up next to a warm body can be pretty fantastic, according to a survey conducted by the National Sleep Foundation, your bedmate can cause you to lose an average of 49 minutes of sleep per night. Sleeping two-to-a-bed just isn't as restful as snoozing solo. Other studies confirm that singles generally get more rest — seven to eight hours of sleep a night — than marrieds, which enhances memory, mood and concentration, as well as allows your immune system to recharge. And, according to scientists at the University of Luebeck in Germany, creativity and problem-solving may directly correlate with getting enough sleep. In the study, participants were given a math puzzle; those who'd had eight hours of sleep or more before tackling it were three times more likely to get the right answer than those who slept less. So, singles, revel in the fact that you're alert, rested and have that extra brain-power edge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rnc1zClYXBI/AAAAAAAABPI/-9Vig7JZ-xE/s1600-h/mecolorwindow%282%29.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rnc1zClYXBI/AAAAAAAABPI/-9Vig7JZ-xE/s320/mecolorwindow%282%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077586255866780690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason #7: You're less depressed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although the media often perpetuates the image of single people being down in the dumps, overall unmarried people tend to be happier than their married counterparts—if you're a woman, that is. One report by the World Health Organization indicated that married women, especially ones with children, have a higher risk for depression than single women, and researchers at the University of London found that single women generally have fewer mental-health issues. "Marriage, in many ways, seems to benefit men more than women," says Davis. "For women, there's more of a loss of self." And, of course, today's women often feel like they need to do it all—have a career, take care of the kids and perform other traditionally "female" responsibilities. "People who aren't married are still investing in themselves," says Davis. "It's not selfish—it's giving to yourself, and that's something married people can learn from single people."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason #8: You have better friendships.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Significant others are a wonderful thing, no doubt, but friends count, too. And on that front, one study found that, when women get married and have children, they spend much less time with their friends—less than five hours a week, down from 14 hours. Singles, however, often have the greatest sense of friendship and community—which can actually decrease stress levels, according to researchers at UCLA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's another way to look at this: "Singles don't rely on just one person to meet their needs. You don't automatically know who you're going to spend Friday night with," says Sasha Cagen, author of Quirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics. "The plus side is that you have a lot of different people in your life and potentially a greater sense of social possibilities."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason #9: Your travel tales are enviable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marrieds take the most vacations, dominating the market with 62 percent of all trips taken, but singles arguably go on more interesting trips. According to the Travel Industry Association of America, singles corner the adventure-travel market, engaging in activities like whitewater rafting, scuba diving and mountain biking. Being single and relatively footloose certainly allows you to expand your geographical — and personal — borders. "I have lived abroad, backpacked for close to a year, have been in love three times and much more," says Courtney Davis, 27, a media-relations manager in Boston. "With every place and every person, my world has expanded."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason #10: You know yourself—and what you want out of a relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a better catch now than you were at 20. You may have signs of, ahem, experience etched on your face, but that's OK because you're more interesting and more self-aware. Not only have you grown as a person, but you've probably been through the ringer a few times in matters of love and now know what you want—and what you don't. Experts say that bodes well for future marital success and may actually decrease the likelihood of divorce. "When people get married young, they often feel like the other person will complete them, and they have trouble moving past that Hollywood myth," explains Chase. "But maturity brings so much, because if you're able to communicate who you are and what you want, the better your chances of having a successful marriage." And that's a wonderful message: Your single self is great... and should you find the right person and decide to marry, you're more likely to thrive in that stage of your life, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dawn Yanek is the author of How to Find the Right Person in 90 Days and Women's Best-Kept Secrets. She frequently appears on VH-1, MSNBC, and other networks as a commentator on relationships, celebrities and lifestyle trends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-7287564115580273511?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/7287564115580273511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=7287564115580273511&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/7287564115580273511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/7287564115580273511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/06/better-off-single.html' title='Better off single ?'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rnc0uClYXAI/AAAAAAAABPA/jxydq4LjZKg/s72-c/like_bestlook%282%29.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-3314197952570198365</id><published>2007-06-06T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T09:44:55.209-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Esteem'/><title type='text'>Sport Affiliation and Self Esteem</title><content type='html'>This stuff surpises me so much.&lt;br /&gt;I really liked this article on &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.units.muohio.edu/psybersite/fans/sit.shtml"&gt;Sport Affiliation and Self Esteem&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do people become so fanatic about a sports team? They buy the jerseys, pay the money for the tickets, collect, buy and trade sports cards? It can even become a fantasy where fans can pick their own players and create their own teams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The social identity theory, when applied to sports fans, helps to explain their behavior. The social identity theory states that people are motivated to behave in ways that maintain and boost their self esteem. Having high self esteem is typically a perception of oneself as attractive, competent, likable and morally good person. These attributes make the person more attractive to the outside social world and making it more desirable for others to be in positive relationships with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rm17yClYWjI/AAAAAAAABLY/6C7N_iRlyvM/s1600-h/MVC-001F.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rm17yClYWjI/AAAAAAAABLY/6C7N_iRlyvM/s320/MVC-001F.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074848454733748786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      Without self esteem and the positive aspects that it brings into a person’s life, a person feels alone and this isolation causes deep anxiety. Sports can work to increase self-esteem for a person by association and affiliation. By wearing the teams colors, attending every game, and knowing all the players’ names, positions and stats, a fans begin to feel as if they are an integral part of the team. Therefore, when a team does well, they feel high self esteem in connection with their team’s victory. They connect with the team as if they were playing the game themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  This connection that fans develop towards their team is a type of ingroup favoritism that helps a person develop a social identity by attaching themselves and attaining group membership in a group that has value and significance to them (Tajfel 1972). The fan then seeks to join and retain membership in those groups that have the most potential for contributing positively to his or her identity, and therefore strengthening their own self esteem. The research done by Lee (1985) clearly demonstrated the effect of self esteem and its connection to group identification.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The study consisted of male undergraduates who were asked questions on university related questionnaire, and then after they were told their score, they were asked to describe a favorable or unfavorable basketball game. Those that did well on the questionnaire showed more affiliation to their own university team than those that did poorly. Different strategies were used by each of the groups to either maintain or boost self-esteem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Even when a team looses, the social identity theory states that a person will still view the team just as positively because of the threat a defeat has to his or her own self esteem, now that the person has identified with the team. If the person is loosely connected, the impression management techniques of BIRGing and CORFing (Basking in Reflected Glory and Cutting Off Reflected Failure) can be used. But if the fan is closely linked, the social identity theory further states that an individual will, in the face of defeat, still view their team just as positively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  This phenomena, of viewing a person’s favorite team just as positively after a defeat, is due to the biases and discriminating behaviors a person has against the other teams, and he or she will attribute a loss or defeat to external cues rather than to their own team. A "true" fan will then find reason to explain the team’s loss and place the blame everywhere besides the team itself. The Packer Haters Club offers many great examples of these attribution strategies and the sheer number of responses shows how deeply rooted some fans identities are in their teams success or failure. A fan will stop a nothing to defend his or her favorite or home team. One quote in particular stands out, "The Packers are like your children. You don’t love them because they’re good. You love them because they’re yours. "-Packers fan, Steve Gay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-3314197952570198365?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/3314197952570198365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=3314197952570198365&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3314197952570198365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3314197952570198365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/06/sport-affiliation-and-self-esteem.html' title='Sport Affiliation and Self Esteem'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rm17yClYWjI/AAAAAAAABLY/6C7N_iRlyvM/s72-c/MVC-001F.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-6550094597110499370</id><published>2007-06-06T14:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-06T14:54:10.151-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Esteem'/><title type='text'>Sports fanaticism</title><content type='html'>I didn't undrestand it and I needed to, so I read up on it.&lt;br /&gt;The result amazed me.&lt;br /&gt;This article on &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.units.muohio.edu/psybersite/fans/index.shtml"&gt;THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SPORT FANS&lt;/a&gt; was a great read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Introduction by Sascha Hansen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like it or not, sports have become a part of our everyday lives. For some it is a job, a hobby, or a form of entertainment. For others sports are an obsession or an annoyance. Even if people are not watching actual sporting events, they are still subjected to sports in other ways including movies, for example: The Fan, Space Jam, Rudy, and Major League. In any case there are people who do enjoy sports which is where our focus lies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to Webster’s dictionary (1976) those who are "an enthusiastic devotee of a sport or diversion, usually as a spectator rather than a participant" are called fans as opposed to those who "exhibit excessive enthusiasm and intense uncritical devotion" are called fanatics. Perhaps there is a difference between a sports fan and a fanatic but the explanations for their behavior are similar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within the category of fans or fanatics are several other groups, including those who1879det.gif (8322 bytes) are fans of one team opposed to those who are fans of another team. Explained by in-group, out-group bias people will categorize themselves as part of the in-group, the group that they belong to, and all others are a part of the out-group. Often times in-group/out-group biases will occur, where the in-group deems themselves superior to the out-group (Devine, 1996). This may also lead to intergroup bias which is where people of the in-group see their differences as good if it is beneficial to their group and negative when present in the out-group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another explanation for the behavior of fans is found when looking at the social cle74199.gif (5402 bytes)identity theory, where a person is motivated to behave in ways that will boost their self-esteem (Tesser, 1995). Sports fans feel that they can maintain or boost their self-esteem by identifying with a sports team. Ways of identifying with a team is demonstrated by fans through BIRGing and CORFing or Basking In Reflective Glory and Cutting Off Reflective Failures respectively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally fans also demonstrate a process called deindividuation where people lose their self-awareness and have decreased concern for how others around them evaluate their actions (Mann, et al., 1982). In this way people seem to lose or change part of their identity and take on a whole new identity when engrossed in sports. Often times people are swept up in the moment of a sporting event and lose their individuality and act as a group. For example one group of fans may strike out against the opposing team’s fans and a riot may break out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are other aspects of sports that may effect the behavior of fans that are not specifically addressed here, but some of them include aggression, gender equity, culture, and hormones. Exploring these theories and those above may provide further explanation for why individuals act the way they do at a sporting event or even when watching sports on television.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-6550094597110499370?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/6550094597110499370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=6550094597110499370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/6550094597110499370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/6550094597110499370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/06/sports-fanaticism.html' title='Sports fanaticism'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-7410534635323740307</id><published>2007-05-29T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T09:36:38.424-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brown Skin Lyrics: India Arie</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Brown Skin"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin&lt;br /&gt;I cant tell where yours begins,&lt;br /&gt;I cant tell where mine ends&lt;br /&gt;Brown skin, up against my brown skin&lt;br /&gt;Need some every now and then:oh hey:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where are your people from?&lt;br /&gt;Maybe Mississippi or an Island&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rm154ylYWiI/AAAAAAAABLQ/qXK-ScyXIJw/s1600-h/MVC-008F.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rm154ylYWiI/AAAAAAAABLQ/qXK-ScyXIJw/s320/MVC-008F.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074846371674610210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently your skin has been kissed by the sun&lt;br /&gt;You make me want a Hershey's kiss, your licorice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I see your lips, it makes me think of honey-coated chocolate&lt;br /&gt;Your kisses are worth more than gold to me I'll be your almond joy, you'll be my sugar daddy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin&lt;br /&gt;I cant tell where yours begins,&lt;br /&gt;I cant tell where mine ends&lt;br /&gt;Brown skin, up against my brown skin&lt;br /&gt;Need some every now and then:oh hey:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time you come around, something magnetic pulls me and I cant get out&lt;br /&gt;Disoriented, I cant tell my up from down&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that I wanna lay you down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I let you in, abracadabra magic happens as we swim&lt;br /&gt;Higher and higher finally we reach heaven&lt;br /&gt;Come back to earth and then we do it all again Yeah:..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brown skin, you know I love your brown skinI cant tell where yours begins,&lt;br /&gt;I cant tell where mine ends&lt;br /&gt;Brown skin, up against my brown skin&lt;br /&gt;Need some every now and then:oh hey:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skin so brown, lips so round&lt;br /&gt;Baby how can I be down?&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful mahogany, you make me feel like a queen&lt;br /&gt;Tell me what's that thing you do that makes me wanna get next to you, yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin&lt;br /&gt;I cant tell where yours begins, I cant tell where mine ends&lt;br /&gt;Brown skin, up against my brown skin&lt;br /&gt;Need some every now and then:oh hey:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin&lt;br /&gt;I cant tell where yours begins,&lt;br /&gt;I cant tell where mine ends&lt;br /&gt;Brown skin, up against my brown skin&lt;br /&gt;Need some every now and then:oh hey:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-7410534635323740307?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/7410534635323740307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=7410534635323740307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/7410534635323740307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/7410534635323740307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/05/brown-skin-lyrics-india-arie.html' title='Brown Skin Lyrics: India Arie'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rm154ylYWiI/AAAAAAAABLQ/qXK-ScyXIJw/s72-c/MVC-008F.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-1731220103658975798</id><published>2007-05-21T20:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-18T19:06:36.582-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Preston's Wedding Vows</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;I really liked this episode of Grey's Anatomy but I couldnt ge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;t past all the stupid stuff that was going on in the media. Too Bad Isaiah got fired now because they could have developed his character  to be so much more than it is...Meanwhile here are the vows he wrote and recited in the operating room. Now that I read it again for the 50th time it kinda loses some steam, because the relationship he thought was so strong turned out to be nothing at all...&lt;br /&gt;Oh Well That's Life..Meanwhile what he said was sweet :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PRESTON BURKE :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cristina, I could promise to hold you, and to cherish you.&lt;br /&gt;I could promise to be there, in sickness and in health.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;I could say till death do us part.&lt;br /&gt;But I won't. Those vows are for optimistic couples, the ones full of hope.&lt;br /&gt;I do not stand here on my wedding day optimistic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt; or full of hope. I a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;m not optimistic. I am not hopeful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rnc5GilYXCI/AAAAAAAABPQ/cZnfaxEuy9Y/s1600-h/mecolorwindow%282%29.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rnc5GilYXCI/AAAAAAAABPQ/cZnfaxEuy9Y/s320/mecolorwindow%282%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077589889409113122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;I am sure.&lt;br /&gt;I am steady.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a heart man.&lt;br /&gt;Take 'em apart, put 'em back together, hold them in my hands.&lt;br /&gt;I am a heart man.&lt;br /&gt;So this, I am sure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;You are my partner.&lt;br /&gt;My lover.&lt;br /&gt;My very best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rnc50ClYXDI/AAAAAAAABPY/AS-kVW9qpJM/s1600-h/SADTHINK.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rnc50ClYXDI/AAAAAAAABPY/AS-kVW9qpJM/s320/SADTHINK.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077590671093161010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;My heart.&lt;br /&gt;My heart beats for you.&lt;br /&gt;And on this day, the day of our wedding, I promise you this.&lt;br /&gt;I promise you to lay my heart in the palm of your hands, I promise you... me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-1731220103658975798?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/1731220103658975798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=1731220103658975798&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1731220103658975798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1731220103658975798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/05/prestons-wedding-vows.html' title='Preston&apos;s Wedding Vows'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rnc5GilYXCI/AAAAAAAABPQ/cZnfaxEuy9Y/s72-c/mecolorwindow%282%29.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-8537895983750677178</id><published>2007-04-27T14:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T14:10:37.887-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Care about people'/><title type='text'>Words to live by</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If you wouldn't write it and sign it, don't say it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RjJmp4heNLI/AAAAAAAABDc/nrmfXpOrr1g/s1600-h/MVC-018F.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RjJmp4heNLI/AAAAAAAABDc/nrmfXpOrr1g/s320/MVC-018F.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058218201223935154" 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/16471089-8537895983750677178?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/8537895983750677178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=8537895983750677178&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/8537895983750677178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/8537895983750677178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/04/words-to-live-by.html' title='Words to live by'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RjJmp4heNLI/AAAAAAAABDc/nrmfXpOrr1g/s72-c/MVC-018F.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-1261559346378951129</id><published>2007-03-16T12:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T14:17:01.898-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Living ife'/><title type='text'>Desiderata</title><content type='html'>I remember when we entered high school at age 11.&lt;br /&gt;Our Form 1 teacher made us memorize the Desiderata.  I despised having to do it and then recite it in front of the class for a grade.&lt;br /&gt;However, I think this really affected me.&lt;br /&gt;This is how I have tried to live my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RjJoCYheNMI/AAAAAAAABDk/qelEwZubBUs/s1600-h/MVC-019F.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RjJoCYheNMI/AAAAAAAABDk/qelEwZubBUs/s320/MVC-019F.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058219721642357954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Desiderata&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go placidly amid the noise and haste,and remember what peace there may be in silence.&lt;br /&gt;As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.&lt;br /&gt;Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.&lt;br /&gt;Avoid loud and aggressive persons,they are vexations to the spirit.&lt;br /&gt;If you compare yourself with others,you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.&lt;br /&gt;Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.&lt;br /&gt;Exercise caution in your business affairs;&lt;br /&gt;for the world is full of trickery.&lt;br /&gt;But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;and everywhere life is full of heroism.&lt;br /&gt;Be yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Especially, do not feign affection.&lt;br /&gt;Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.&lt;br /&gt;Take kindly the counsel of the years,gracefully surrendering the things of youth.&lt;br /&gt;Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.&lt;br /&gt;But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.&lt;br /&gt;Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.&lt;br /&gt;Beyond a wholesome discipline,be gentle with yourself.&lt;br /&gt;You are a child of the universe,no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.&lt;br /&gt;And whether or not it is clear to you,no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.&lt;br /&gt;Therefore be at peace with God,whatever you conceive Him to be,and whatever your labors and aspirations,in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.&lt;br /&gt;With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,it is still a beautiful world.&lt;br /&gt;Be cheerful.&lt;br /&gt;Strive to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-1261559346378951129?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/1261559346378951129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=1261559346378951129&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1261559346378951129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1261559346378951129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/03/desiderata_16.html' title='Desiderata'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RjJoCYheNMI/AAAAAAAABDk/qelEwZubBUs/s72-c/MVC-019F.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-250199131780015194</id><published>2007-03-04T13:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-04T13:55:01.872-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Great interviews'/><title type='text'>Fear: Fire/Light</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Forest Whitaker did the Actor's studio interview.&lt;br /&gt;You can tell that he is a sensitive guy and very self aware.&lt;br /&gt;Even moreso, you can tell that he really researches his roles and tries to identify.&lt;br /&gt;He even said that he tries to find the reason WHY someone would do a thing, or behave a certain way so that he could take it on and make it a part of himself for the time that he was in character.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Res__dC2hyI/AAAAAAAAAvc/Wvhu0W0_RdY/s1600-h/forest.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038190967504930594" style="CURSOR: hand" height="128" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Res__dC2hyI/AAAAAAAAAvc/Wvhu0W0_RdY/s320/forest.jpg" width="174" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really admire that.&lt;br /&gt;The WHY. The WHY.&lt;br /&gt;One thing he said which struck me, was that he was always afraid.&lt;br /&gt;I breathed a sigh of relief.&lt;br /&gt;It's a thing that is with me.&lt;br /&gt;Always...&lt;br /&gt;But we all have to plow through and live life.&lt;br /&gt;Forest said that his fear is not debilitating.&lt;br /&gt;He said that walking through fire is like walking through light.&lt;br /&gt;It guides his way.&lt;br /&gt;I really am so glad that he said that&lt;br /&gt;SHOOP! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-250199131780015194?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/250199131780015194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=250199131780015194&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/250199131780015194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/250199131780015194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/03/fear-firelight.html' title='Fear: Fire/Light'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Res__dC2hyI/AAAAAAAAAvc/Wvhu0W0_RdY/s72-c/forest.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-3820898097820951292</id><published>2007-03-04T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T14:27:16.619-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Look'/><title type='text'>The Significance of THE LOOK</title><content type='html'>Ok I will post more pics of THE LOOK in the future, but here was my point.&lt;br /&gt;People meet and fall in love. They fall in love and with time they trust each other and love each other, respect and care for each other.&lt;br /&gt;When a person exepriences all those nuances of love for another you can see it in the eyes, in the lines of the face, in the power of their expression.&lt;br /&gt;Good&lt;br /&gt;Great.&lt;br /&gt;That look, I think makes people feel safe and secure.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RjJp9IheNNI/AAAAAAAABDs/DVCTYLta8o8/s1600-h/MVC-005F.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RjJp9IheNNI/AAAAAAAABDs/DVCTYLta8o8/s320/MVC-005F.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058221830471300306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The look makes them feel as if that person who gave it to them is the ONE person they can weather the storms with.&lt;br /&gt;The look makes you relax.&lt;br /&gt;How can one ever fully recover when the person who gives them or has given them THE LOOK, treats them with contempt, disrespect or unwarranted anger?&lt;br /&gt;You can forgive and move on but something, even if its a small something, seems to die. You can decide that you won't let it die, but a part of the trust is gone.  That small something stays with you regardless of what happens next.&lt;br /&gt;It makes you aware and keeps you on guard. Because now you know that this person is potentially harmful.&lt;br /&gt;You can talk it out and work it through. The more and more the behavior continues however, the more the trust is eroded.&lt;br /&gt;Ususally the person on the receiving end starts to build up walls. The other sometimes thinks that all is well, just so long as they talk things through.&lt;br /&gt;Life isn't like that.&lt;br /&gt;One can' play around with the heart of another. It is a gift and a privilege when someone lets you in deep.&lt;br /&gt;When despair sets in...life becomes hard&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-3820898097820951292?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/3820898097820951292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=3820898097820951292&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3820898097820951292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3820898097820951292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/03/significance-of-look.html' title='The Significance of THE LOOK'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RjJp9IheNNI/AAAAAAAABDs/DVCTYLta8o8/s72-c/MVC-005F.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-3780902343321504462</id><published>2007-03-03T11:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-03T11:16:09.224-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Look'/><title type='text'>The Look</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Billy Chenowith/Jeremy Sisto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RenJRNC2huI/AAAAAAAAAus/nXDRZuRo4Kg/s1600-h/billy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037778955587192546" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RenJRNC2huI/AAAAAAAAAus/nXDRZuRo4Kg/s320/billy.jpg" border="0" /&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/16471089-3780902343321504462?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/3780902343321504462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=3780902343321504462&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3780902343321504462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3780902343321504462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/03/look_03.html' title='The Look'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/RenJRNC2huI/AAAAAAAAAus/nXDRZuRo4Kg/s72-c/billy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-3154880829901485439</id><published>2007-03-02T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T13:54:39.397-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Look'/><title type='text'>The Look-Todd and Vange</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Todd&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/ReicZtC2htI/AAAAAAAAAuU/i1pO8P3TmmA/s1600-h/MVC-022F.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037448148616120018" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/ReicZtC2htI/AAAAAAAAAuU/i1pO8P3TmmA/s320/MVC-022F.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vange&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Reia7NC2hqI/AAAAAAAAAt8/hOf26WFS8Sc/s1600-h/MVC-025F.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037446525118482082" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Reia7NC2hqI/AAAAAAAAAt8/hOf26WFS8Sc/s320/MVC-025F.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;More Todd&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Reibh9C2hrI/AAAAAAAAAuE/bOfAZBSTf-Q/s1600-h/MVC-023F.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037447190838412978" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Reibh9C2hrI/AAAAAAAAAuE/bOfAZBSTf-Q/s320/MVC-023F.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Reib8tC2hsI/AAAAAAAAAuM/RYB_LbhIgIg/s1600-h/MVC-024F.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037447650399913666" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Reib8tC2hsI/AAAAAAAAAuM/RYB_LbhIgIg/s320/MVC-024F.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/16471089-3154880829901485439?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/3154880829901485439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=3154880829901485439&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3154880829901485439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/3154880829901485439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/03/look-todd-and-vange.html' title='The Look-Todd and Vange'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/ReicZtC2htI/AAAAAAAAAuU/i1pO8P3TmmA/s72-c/MVC-022F.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-7501675594628797030</id><published>2007-03-01T12:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-01T12:44:39.105-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The look</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;There are MANY forms that THE LOOK may take. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is one of them...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rec682mjXLI/AAAAAAAAAr4/aJCpCj37mOg/s1600-h/kcbw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037059525360966834" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rec682mjXLI/AAAAAAAAAr4/aJCpCj37mOg/s320/kcbw.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope to collect enough of these forms so I can get a whole huge perspective...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I get enough of a collection I will tell all about why THE LOOK is so important&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-7501675594628797030?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/7501675594628797030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=7501675594628797030&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/7501675594628797030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/7501675594628797030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/03/look.html' title='The look'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rec682mjXLI/AAAAAAAAAr4/aJCpCj37mOg/s72-c/kcbw.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-1101895533552620241</id><published>2007-02-23T13:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-23T13:49:22.442-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Recommended Books'/><title type='text'>The Measure of A Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I am going to read this book by Sidney Poitier. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I read an excerpt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd9hOlU6NUI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/cz39tteKdB0/s1600-h/sidneybook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034849811589379394" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd9hOlU6NUI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/cz39tteKdB0/s320/sidneybook.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like Sidney as a man who is poised and dignified. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Full of grace. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will comment on how the book made me feel. &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/16471089-1101895533552620241?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/1101895533552620241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=1101895533552620241&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1101895533552620241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/1101895533552620241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/02/measure-of-man.html' title='The Measure of A Man'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd9hOlU6NUI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/cz39tteKdB0/s72-c/sidneybook.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-223208132993994402</id><published>2007-02-23T12:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-23T13:11:40.385-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Meaningful song lyrics'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Somewhere Only We Know&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dolores_Keane"&gt;Dolores Keane&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd9YblU6NSI/AAAAAAAAAX8/exs6YFoGvSc/s1600-h/dk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034840139323028770" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd9YblU6NSI/AAAAAAAAAX8/exs6YFoGvSc/s320/dk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked across an empty land&lt;br /&gt;I knew the pathway like the back of my hand&lt;br /&gt;I felt the earth beneath my feet&lt;br /&gt;Sat by the river and it made me complete&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh simple thing where have you gone&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting old and I need something to rely on&lt;br /&gt;So tell me when you're gonna let me in&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across a fallen tree&lt;br /&gt;I felt the branches of it looking at meIs this the place we used to love?&lt;br /&gt;Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh simple thing where have you gone&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting old and I need something to rely on&lt;br /&gt;So tell me when you're gonna let me in&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you have a minute why don't we go&lt;br /&gt;Talk about it somewhere only we know?&lt;br /&gt;This could be the end of everything&lt;br /&gt;So why don't we go&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere only we know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[break]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh simple thing where have you gone&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting old and I need something to rely on&lt;br /&gt;So tell me when you're gonna let me in&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you have a minute why don't we go&lt;br /&gt;Talk about it somewhere only we know?&lt;br /&gt;This could be the end of everything&lt;br /&gt;So why don't we go&lt;br /&gt;So why don't we go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This could be the end of everything&lt;br /&gt;So why don't we go&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere only we know?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-223208132993994402?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/223208132993994402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=223208132993994402&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/223208132993994402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/223208132993994402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/02/somewhere-only-we-know-by-dolores-keane.html' title=''/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd9YblU6NSI/AAAAAAAAAX8/exs6YFoGvSc/s72-c/dk.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-8233412301565527945</id><published>2007-02-22T21:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-23T12:51:23.611-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Questions'/><title type='text'>Stars Interviewing Stars</title><content type='html'>Usually I would just watch and then forget about it.&lt;br /&gt;However, a couple of the interviews were really very interesting.&lt;br /&gt;Oprah's Oscar Special included Oscar winners interviewing each other, asking very personal questions.&lt;br /&gt;Julia Roberts interviewed George Clooney&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd58wFU6NPI/AAAAAAAAAXM/OM3SOSURMSg/s1600-h/julia+and+george.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034598598952236274" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd58wFU6NPI/AAAAAAAAAXM/OM3SOSURMSg/s320/julia+and+george.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole Kidman interviewed Russell Crowe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd58ZlU6NOI/AAAAAAAAAXE/bizrqOyqIY0/s1600-h/russell+and+nicole.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034598212405179618" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd58ZlU6NOI/AAAAAAAAAXE/bizrqOyqIY0/s320/russell+and+nicole.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sidney Poitier interviewed Jamie Foxx (Oprah loves these guys so she came in for a while).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd57zVU6NMI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xSE00lT2_bM/s1600-h/jamie.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034597555275183298" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd57zVU6NMI/AAAAAAAAAW0/xSE00lT2_bM/s320/jamie.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd58EVU6NNI/AAAAAAAAAW8/AMEmIkW5ziw/s1600-h/sidney.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034597847332959442" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd58EVU6NNI/AAAAAAAAAW8/AMEmIkW5ziw/s320/sidney.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julia and George had their interview at George's House. there was a lot of laughter, cooking, teasing and distractions. George didn't answer one personal question. Not one. I din't get anything from the interview except the fact that George deflects a lot. He doesn't divulge any personal information. I am not talking about who he dates etc. I am talking about his thought or feelings on life. Not politics, not activism but LIFE. This interview was a little bit disappointing to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole Kidman interviewed Russell Crowe and the first thing she said was, "For the next 20 minutes I would ask that yo answer all my questions and truthfully." He agreed.&lt;br /&gt;However, he looked very uncomfortable. HE shifted in his chair, fidgeted, rubbed his hands and shook hi legs.&lt;br /&gt;When he answered the questions though, he seemed sincere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nicole&lt;/strong&gt; asked him:What was the most significant kiss you have ever had?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He answered&lt;/strong&gt; : The one after I said I do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My thoughts:&lt;/strong&gt; Best answer EVER! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nicole:&lt;/strong&gt; Does is matter to you how you are perceived?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Russell:&lt;/strong&gt; There is nothing I can do about how I am perceived. I had a devil may care attitude when I was younger and I think I am reaping the consequences of that now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My thoughts:&lt;/strong&gt; I understand where he is coming from. No matter how careful you are to be good and kind to people and to do right, someone can lie about you or print untruths and it all comes crumbling down around you (to a certain degree though). There is nothing you can do about perception after that.&lt;br /&gt;I do believe that in the face of that kind of adversity that one should continue to live in truth and morally, the way they always have.&lt;br /&gt;Russell said its important that YOU know who YOU are within yourself, but some of his actions, I am sure he wishes he could erase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really liked that interview. Russell asked Nicole about her husband Kieth Urban. You could tell when she answered that there was sadness about the situation. She is supporting him through it now, but I am sure it is extremely hard for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nicole&lt;/strong&gt; then asked Russell: To you prefer to give love or receive love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Russell&lt;/strong&gt; answered: Give love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Russell then asked Nicole the same question &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nicole&lt;/strong&gt;: I think the most difficult thing is to allow yourself to feel as if you deserve or are worthy of love. I prefer within myself to give love. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Thoughts&lt;/strong&gt;: I totally agee with what she said. You feel that way sometimes but you have to train yourself to belive that you are worthy and keep your standards high. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd9S11U6NQI/AAAAAAAAAXk/oB1U9xfxAKY/s1600-h/oprah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034833993224828162" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd9S11U6NQI/AAAAAAAAAXk/oB1U9xfxAKY/s320/oprah.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next interesting interview was Sidney Poitier and Jamie Foxx. Oprah loves those guys so she stopped in to listen to them talk. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sidney told Jamie that he experienced extrme racism in Florida when he came to the United states from the Bahamas (Americans treated him as sub-human). His semi-literate parents did a good job he said, in teaching him that he was human with all the rights of everyone else. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My thoughts&lt;/strong&gt;: Good parents would help in self reinforcements. I thank my momma for being strong and teaching me to stand up for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sidney asked Jamie if he saw marriage in his future. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jamie&lt;/strong&gt;: If I get married, I want to lose it all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He said he wanted the person to be with him for HIM not for what he had. He wanted to be able to lose himself to the extent that the trust was so great that he needn't worry if trouble came their way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My thoughts&lt;/strong&gt;: I like that he said that. That was the first time I saw him open up about this topic. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd9TJ1U6NRI/AAAAAAAAAXs/yoOinwoZz9c/s1600-h/oprah2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034834336822211858" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd9TJ1U6NRI/AAAAAAAAAXs/yoOinwoZz9c/s320/oprah2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He seems to have a big crush on Oprah though (and vice versa).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This was a really good interview. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oprah did a good job with this special :)&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/16471089-8233412301565527945?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/8233412301565527945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=8233412301565527945&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/8233412301565527945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/8233412301565527945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2007/02/stars-interviewing-stars.html' title='Stars Interviewing Stars'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_7p6e5pt25fI/Rd58wFU6NPI/AAAAAAAAAXM/OM3SOSURMSg/s72-c/julia+and+george.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16471089.post-112611306423175684</id><published>2005-09-07T13:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T10:11:04.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>British Accents and The Like...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/204/1600/marsha%20and%20michael.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/204/320/marsha%20and%20michael.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought he was taller for some reason. I stood and listened to every conversation he had at this after party because I love his voice and his accent. Also, he is so genteel! So aristocratic, so debonair....Ladies start to swoon and faint. This guy is the Colin Firth of old (umm by the way, I hope to meet Colin next).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked for a picture and he said "Of course!"&lt;br /&gt;I was a little intimidated because of the formality of him but he is really sweet and oh so proper. I met the original Logan of Logan's run. I saw that movie when I was six years old! Oh the Humanity of it all......&lt;br /&gt;Hugs M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16471089-112611306423175684?l=mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/feeds/112611306423175684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16471089&amp;postID=112611306423175684&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/112611306423175684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16471089/posts/default/112611306423175684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mlaurelswriting.blogspot.com/2005/09/british-accents-and-like.html' title='British Accents and The Like...'/><author><name>Marsha</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/204/320/464464/MVC-001F.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
