<?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-899461471995451515</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:00:44.520-07:00</updated><category term='home'/><category term='lonely island'/><category term='sankofa'/><category term='single ladies'/><category term='black men'/><category term='andy samberg'/><category term='beyonce'/><category term='dancing'/><category term='blah'/><category term='justin timberlake'/><category term='kele'/><category term='intro'/><category term='family'/><category term='poetry'/><category term='tattoo'/><category term='change'/><category term='college'/><category term='best friends'/><category term='centered'/><category term='bloc party'/><category term='focus'/><category term='michelle is lame'/><title type='text'>Smokescreens and Fire Escapes</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-899461471995451515.post-1296936785642007160</id><published>2008-12-12T22:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:54:57.253-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i wonder if my existance will forever be in vain&lt;br /&gt;or will it&lt;br /&gt;inspire symphonies?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/899461471995451515-1296936785642007160?l=modernstoneage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/1296936785642007160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=899461471995451515&amp;postID=1296936785642007160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/1296936785642007160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/1296936785642007160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-wonder-if-my-existance-will-forever.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-899461471995451515.post-6772523828768485977</id><published>2008-12-07T21:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T21:29:24.942-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Well then</title><content type='html'>When I love: It's too hard or too far or not to your liking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/899461471995451515-6772523828768485977?l=modernstoneage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/6772523828768485977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=899461471995451515&amp;postID=6772523828768485977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/6772523828768485977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/6772523828768485977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/2008/12/well-then.html' title='Well then'/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-899461471995451515.post-8350203450768895334</id><published>2008-12-06T22:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T00:19:11.109-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I had my first hangover in two years today.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I've been so off and so on at the same time. I scribble to myself so much now because my mood is changing with the seasons. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;+ I can't stop writing. I haven't felt like this in so long. I don't know if it is getting better or not, but it's nice. I'm trying not to judge so hard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;+ The spectrum of feelings is welcome. I hate static. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- I don't know how much fun I am to be around during this time though. :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-INSERT LONG UNNESSESARY DIGRESSION HERE-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Today (well...december 6th. so i guess &lt;em&gt;technically&lt;/em&gt; yesterday) would have been my grandma's birthday. I miss her so much. There was a time when I couldn't go a day without thinking about her. Now, it is not so frequent as that . That woman raised me. Now I am so careful of keeping family close, making sure they feel loved and I'm always on edge about their safety and general well-being. It all happened the way that it should have, minus the fact that she isn't here right now. I saw her fading before my very eyes and somehow just &lt;em&gt;knew&lt;/em&gt;, i just knew. There was no indication that she was getting any sicker or anything. Yes, she was diabetic, but managing. For a whole year, I had this aching raw feeling in the pit of my stomach because I knew something terrible was going to happen, and every hug I squeezed her tighter and tighter because I knew it was approaching the last. The night of her last birthday with us, I retreated to my room and wept like I never knew I could because I knew! I'll always remember those eyes, those eyes she gave me the last time before she went to the hospital. It was Christmas eve and I was leaving her house. Something was off when I kissed her goodbye: we locked gazes. Something about the way she looked at me then made me want to thank her for everything and tell her all of my secrets. "Are you...you know...okay?" I asked her. She paused for a moment to consider. She knew. "I'm fine. Goodnight, I love you." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;What did I want to say? I wanted to ask her more about when she was a little girl, I wanted to tell her how she should hold on, just a little longer because I needed her: Oh dear God, I needed her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Instead, I settled for: "I love you too, Grandma. I'll see you tommorow"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And then, I didn't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt; / END LONG UNESSESSARY  DIGRESSION &gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The first snow over here is a big reminder. Whilst walking back to my dorm from the shuttle bus and I looked up at the flurries falling in my face and had to laugh. When I was fifteen, I'd pleaded with her in whatever form she had taken to just let me know she was somewhere out there. Nothing more than free associating, begging into the void:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;"Are you out there? LET ME KNOW!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'd thought I was being sly with whatever was up there when I added the extra condition: "If you're up there, prove it, make it snow tommorow."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And snow it did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I still don't know if I believe my clumbsy 10th grade quasi-prayer was really answered. I like to believe everything is a sign. I suppose it doesn't really matter what it was, it served me well as a reminder to always go out on a limb and hope unabashedly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Dare to make a wish and maybe, just maybe, it will alter your &lt;em&gt;self-fulfilling prophecy-&lt;/em&gt; that whole reasoning behind why people tend to EPIC FAIL when they think to themselves beforehand "Wow, I am going to fuck this up, now aren't I?". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hopes are disapointing sometimes though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Oftentimes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Especially these days. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's been a long time since I've felt such longing as I do. I don't know if I have enough in me right now to hope unabashedly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I’m so jaded by the niceties; give me something soulful, it’s the only remedy&lt;br /&gt;tried and true:&lt;br /&gt;You?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/899461471995451515-8350203450768895334?l=modernstoneage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/8350203450768895334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=899461471995451515&amp;postID=8350203450768895334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/8350203450768895334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/8350203450768895334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-had-my-first-hangover-in-two-years.html' title='I had my first hangover in two years today.'/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-899461471995451515.post-3274530712839609702</id><published>2008-12-04T18:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T19:52:32.223-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the pessimistic pseudo-existential babble begin</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v636/63/104/1362210161/n1362210161_30384845_1752.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v636/63/104/1362210161/n1362210161_30384845_1752.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;["come out from behind your eyes little girl,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;outside isn't all grey skies&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;the light is meant to rap at your window with stones" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;this is what they say, and i beg to disagree&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;i'll have no part of yours--got my own reality&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i'll sleep like i have, while you parade with torches&lt;br /&gt;blazing brighter than the high noon sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on the sticky day when contempt came to play&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; ]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 12/04&lt;br /&gt;My writing has gotten so shitty lately, but hey, at least I have felt like writing again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I find it kind of funny how the nights here got warmer, and then colder again.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Now, the energy is just the frenzied, electric anticipation to get this semester over with--if it is cold, i cannot feel it.&lt;/strong&gt; I spent my first few weeks here feeling like I was walking in a haze, and fell deeper and deeper into it before succumbing completely; I'm glad for this. I think you have to be completely submerged and practically drowning before you can wake up and fully realize the extent to which you're under: and this is merely tepid bathwater. I am resurfacing now, I am falling back into old habits and it's not a bad thing: synthesis is the key. &lt;a href="http://photos-h.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v636/63/104/1362210161/n1362210161_30384967_5558.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 224px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 141px" alt="" src="http://photos-h.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v636/63/104/1362210161/n1362210161_30384967_5558.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Finals are coming up. They are inducing lazyness instead of the intended call to attention. I am not overwhelmed or unmotivated: I've handled workloads far greater than this. Maybe that's why I can't focus, oddly enough. I'm always so bent on doing work I care about the &lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt; way, but focus evades me and procrastination completely consumes me. I can forsee a few all-nighters the very near future. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I am in such a piss poor mood lately. I've been listening to a lot of old spring awakening workshop stuff, so it probably has to do with my feeling nostalgic. Atop that, I've been rocking out to voxtrot, and bloc party all day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;That is all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&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/899461471995451515-3274530712839609702?l=modernstoneage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/3274530712839609702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=899461471995451515&amp;postID=3274530712839609702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/3274530712839609702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/3274530712839609702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/2008/12/let-pessimistic-pseudo-existential.html' title='Let the pessimistic pseudo-existential babble begin'/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-899461471995451515.post-1353845935480769388</id><published>2008-11-29T22:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T23:59:29.889-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bloc party'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kele'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='change'/><title type='text'>"You should have asked me for it: I would have been brave. You should have asked me for it: How could I say no?!"</title><content type='html'>"&lt;small&gt;&lt;em&gt;I still remember how you looked that &lt;a href="http://www.freewebs.com/doleboyequalsgenius/bloc%20party%20all%204.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 370px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px" alt="" src="http://www.freewebs.com/doleboyequalsgenius/bloc%20party%20all%204.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;afternoon. There was only you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/small&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kele Okereke is an amazing lyricist. "I Still remember" sounds exactly like the feelings he describes. I spent my yesterevening pouring over everything Bloc Party related that I haven't already heard/seen, including an impromptu acoustic performance of "This Modern Love" that made my heart do all sorts of happy dances and somersaults. Though Kele pretty much came out of the closet, I still love that man. I had another listen to the new album and found that I really like "Signs". And the Intimacy photos are really awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Point Of This:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am so into Bloc Party again!!!!1111oneoneone!&lt;/strong&gt; Maybe it is after being a little dissapointed by their newest album if that makes any sense at all. It's not that it's terrible or anything, it's just that it sounds much more like a compilation of remixes rather than their old sound which STILL has the power to either lull me into dreamy contemplation or make me dance like a crazy old lady with speed mixed into her metamucil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then it makes me think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I really don't &lt;em&gt;hate&lt;/em&gt; the new album, and I could almost even buy the age old excuse that they are "evolving" as musicians. It was just kind of...surprising.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny enough, it makes me look at parallels in my own life. I was told recently by one of my closest friends that I am changing, and her tone seemed more dissapointed than that of a congratulatory "Great job finally growing into yourself!" We worked it out and all and are still &lt;strong&gt;BFFLAE&lt;3&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a little unnerving to hear. Mainly because I'm pretty comfortable with the way that I am changing. It is a little jarring sometimes, because I yearn for my fifteen year old soul (I was a much better writer when I was fifteen than I am now. Well...a much better creative writer) but I like myself outwardly a little better now. When I was fifteen, I was incredibly shy and unhappy. Now, I see myself walking a balance between the outspoken-anything-goes seventeen year old I was and the tight-lipped-fifteen year old. And I am slowly recovering parts of me that I'd dropped along the way, such as my love of photography and writing.&lt;br /&gt;I willingly admit that I am trying to find myself, but I'm not uncomfortable with it in the least, I find myself for once embracing change. When I was completely miserable, it usually stemmed from my unwillingness to grow up. I think that I am overall true to myself. My bleak outlook on the world and on others is what concerns me: I am sadly going through that "I hate everything" phase again. :/. But, I don't know, on the large scale I feel...emboldened. I feel like I can do anything. Even minor things that used to give me the chills, such as driving (hello, i failed my first four road tests because i would freak out before each one and then cry for three hours after them! very unnessesary), I feel like a much more confident person doing. So, I feel pretty good within, but I'm just not a people pleaser these days. Oh who knows where the balance lies. I can't stay the very same for too long: I get bored easily. It is in that way that I'm pretty fickle. But at my very core, I haven't changed. &lt;em&gt;I'm just evolving as a &lt;s&gt;musician&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;Self. &lt;/em&gt;Hopefully that doesn't just translate to this particular "Me" release being really bad and no one wants to dance to it anymore...that was a really terrible excuse for an extended metaphor, forgive me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cat is sleeping at the foot of my bed. I love her dearly. She is adorable and loyal (which is strange for a feline). But, she is also snoring very, very loudly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/899461471995451515-1353845935480769388?l=modernstoneage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/1353845935480769388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=899461471995451515&amp;postID=1353845935480769388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/1353845935480769388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/1353845935480769388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/2008/11/you-should-have-asked-me-for-it-i-would.html' title='&quot;You should have asked me for it: I would have been brave. You should have asked me for it: How could I say no?!&quot;'/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-899461471995451515.post-6067190449757928792</id><published>2008-11-27T21:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T22:10:08.358-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tattoo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='centered'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='best friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='focus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sankofa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>ADD Post about nothing in particular...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.teamworkenglewood.org/content/6/images/Adinkra-Sankofa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://www.teamworkenglewood.org/content/6/images/Adinkra-Sankofa.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sankofa: can mean either the word in the &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Akan" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akan"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Akan&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; language of &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Ghana" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghana"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ghana&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; that translates in English to "go back and take" (Sanko- go back, fa- take) or the &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Asante" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asante"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Asante&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Adinkra" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adinkra"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Adinkra&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="Symbol" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symbol"&gt;&lt;em&gt;symbol&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;The Asante of Ghana use an Adinkra symbol to represent this same idea and one version of it is similar to the eastern symbol of a heart, and another version is that of a bird with its head turned backwards taking an egg off its back. It symbolizes one taking from the past what is good and bringing it into the present in order to make positive progress through the benevolent use of knowledge.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am getting the symbol tattooed on my arm as soon as I've got a little more money to my name. It's so beautiful and powerful, and I hope that it will serve to me as a constant reminder to learn from the past and not repeat mistakes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm listening to "Georgia On My Mind" by Ray Charles. I love his voice. I've learned that I love songs with "Georgia" in the title, one of my other all time favorites is "Georgia [Take Me to the Sea]" by Jaguar Love. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyhoo, I've been home for the Thanksgiving break since Tuesday. It is such a relief to be back:  such a good reassurance that everything hasn't changed completely. My best friends are all back in one place and it feels amazing to spend time with them all together again. And I love my family to insane unfathomable amounts. College had gotten...better...but something is lacking there. I float around and hang out with different people, which is good I suppose, but I'm a little more used to being in a sort of clique. I've always floated around with different people outside of my group of friends, but I've also always had a home base to go back to, and it's a little odd not to have that. It's not even that I'm uncomfortable being independent, on the contrary. I actually enjoy time by myself a lot more than many people I know, and will go out of my way to get it if I feel overwhelmed. I just miss that aspect of having a base of people who are looking out for me in this particular location, you know? Whatever. I'll go back and the semester will be over in about nineteen days and a month of glorious normalcy will ensue. It will be beautiful. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been working on a film that I want to shoot soon. It feels good to be somewhat productive. I've also written a little bit more. I just need focus. I have so much trouble staying centered, (as evidenced by this post, it goes everywhere!) especially these days creatively. I think that's why my output has been so blah. I start so many things and do not follow through. Must keep on track, must stay centered. I should start meditating again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/899461471995451515-6067190449757928792?l=modernstoneage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/6067190449757928792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=899461471995451515&amp;postID=6067190449757928792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/6067190449757928792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/6067190449757928792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/2008/11/add-post-about-nothing-in-particular.html' title='ADD Post about nothing in particular...'/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-899461471995451515.post-7630064481450714770</id><published>2008-11-24T10:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T10:26:46.914-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I &lt;3 Janelle Monae</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://z.about.com/d/rap/1/0/e/L/-/-/Janelle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 428px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 594px" alt="" src="http://z.about.com/d/rap/1/0/e/L/-/-/Janelle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a good year to be a...(don't make me say it...)&lt;br /&gt;(okay here goes...I'll just say it really fast and all the rest of my fellow "tight-pants-wearin'-ass-*insert-another-dicey-term-here*[oh, ninjasonik]" out there who get offended can just pretend it never happened.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a good year to be a &lt;strong&gt;blipster&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMAHGAWD THURR I SED IT, AND WHAT?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ahahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, but really. Who else isn't madly, truely, and deeply in love with this woman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ya6qYbkJb9U&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ya6qYbkJb9U&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Yy-ugv9kxG0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Yy-ugv9kxG0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/899461471995451515-7630064481450714770?l=modernstoneage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/7630064481450714770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=899461471995451515&amp;postID=7630064481450714770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/7630064481450714770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/7630064481450714770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/2008/11/its-good-year-to-be.html' title='I &lt;3 Janelle Monae'/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-899461471995451515.post-6236568104631645917</id><published>2008-11-23T16:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T16:45:36.434-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dancing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bloc party'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='michelle is lame'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='black men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>"AND YER NOSE IS BLEE'IN, AND YER NOSE IS BLEE'IN!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyNhuNfeSx8/SSnypse42gI/AAAAAAAAAAU/naR3MOdyS3A/s1600-h/keleok.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 198px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyNhuNfeSx8/SSnypse42gI/AAAAAAAAAAU/naR3MOdyS3A/s320/keleok.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272011636943149570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;Kele Okereke of Bloc Party is still the man of my dreams...&lt;/small&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have come to the conclusion that I enjoy dancing way too much. I'm not sure if I am a particularly good dancer (or perhaps even on the very end of that spectrum. For all I know, maybe my dancing is comparable to that of a gawky kid at 80's prom who starts doing the running man in the middle of the dAnCe FlO thinking he is god's gift to hip hop and &lt;em&gt;that's&lt;/em&gt; why everyone is clapping and goading him on, REALLY!) (but then again...I would want to be friends with that kid...) (also...no one claps when I dance.) (also, i need to stop using parenthesis) (EHEM)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say this because currently i am dancing like a loon to Bloc Party in front of my computer screen. Is there anyone else who just likes to randomly turn on music and FREAK THE FUCK out? Because if so, we should be friends and just dance a lot. We don't have to talk, we can just have intimate dance parties. Really, get at me. (Though, I like talking too. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've started going out and publicly dancing. It's good times. And I don't think I would stop even if I were to find out tommorow that I am an embarassment to myself and my future progeny. This is all part of my attempts to become Comfortable-With-Myself(TM). So I can put a smile on my face and dance my face off even though things are kind of on the shitty side right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not digress into that though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I have recently found that I am incredibly attracted to/want to hang with hood guys who kind of skate on the edges of hipster and thuggish. I am not sure if I am particularly cool enough/savvy enough to hang with them, but I hope they can look past my nerdy i-am-sadly-pretty-much-devoid-of-slang-terminology-knowledge exterior and appreciate the burgeoning afropunk within. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been writing a lot recently. You know, poetry and all that jazz that will get me nowhere. I may just share sometime. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/899461471995451515-6236568104631645917?l=modernstoneage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/6236568104631645917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=899461471995451515&amp;postID=6236568104631645917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/6236568104631645917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/6236568104631645917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/2008/11/and-yer-nose-is-bleein-and-yer-nose-is.html' title='&quot;AND YER NOSE IS BLEE&apos;IN, AND YER NOSE IS BLEE&apos;IN!&quot;'/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyNhuNfeSx8/SSnypse42gI/AAAAAAAAAAU/naR3MOdyS3A/s72-c/keleok.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-899461471995451515.post-1947853337892313673</id><published>2008-11-20T09:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T10:01:43.175-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='single ladies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beyonce'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='justin timberlake'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='andy samberg'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lonely island'/><title type='text'>IF YA LIKE IT THEN YA SHOULDA PUT A RANNG ON IT!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyNhuNfeSx8/SSWmAAfGo1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/uAGiTkLFJvs/s1600-h/rangonit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyNhuNfeSx8/SSWmAAfGo1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/uAGiTkLFJvs/s320/rangonit.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270801457967702866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lololololol laughing my face off. also i apologize in advance for the fact that this post is really just me free-associating, there's barely any continuity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "making of single ladies" parody video is down pretty much everywhere because of copyright law, but I VEHEMENTLY encourage you to watch it if you can hunt it down or spare the $1.99 for it on itunes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear, anything from the deluded mind of Andy Samberg is somehow comedic gold. Maybe it's just my acute love of jewish men talking, but I am all over anything he and his crew does. If you have a few free moments to yourself and enjoy laughing check out: thelonelyisland.com. Andy, Akiva Schaffer and Jorma Taccone are too much. They remind me of the awkward nerdy guys I wish I had hung out with in highschool...though, my highschool had no boys....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, Justin Timberlake is really hilarious. I used to love him simply because...well...he is Justin Timberlake. That faux-jheri curl thing he had going on set my eight-year old heart afire back in the day to the point that I didn't even know what to do with myself. I shamelessly shelled out a hundred dollars to see the futuresex loveshow (over-the-top, misguided, sexist dissapointment of a concert...)  a year or two ago because I was nostalgic. But even I cringed when it was announced that he would do his first SNL episode....he was a musician, just a suave, pretty faced, machine programmed to "OOoo" and turn on that sexy falsetto romancy voice that screams "BED ME" at specific intervals to make dEm laDiiEz gO WiiLD. I was pleasantly surprised when I found that my boo (forgive me) had some chops, and am always delighted at his subsequent SNL appearances. I guess the Mickey Mouse Club taught that boy well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyonce didn't do too badly either(apparently she's terrible to work with, forgets lines a lot) though, she didn't have to do much more than be herself and look cute. And dayum, she's got some killer legs. I'm no prolific  Beyonce' follower, but I am in love with "If I Were a Boy". Also, I see she is rockin' an all black female band these days? Has that always been the case? Kudos kudos kudos. It's not &lt;em&gt;entirely&lt;/em&gt; revolutionary, but it's just something I noticed and have to give girlfrennn (or her record label) credit where credit is due.  "Single Ladies" is real catchy, it makes me want to wear my "Strong, Smart, Bold" Girl's inc shirt and shout lyrics from a rooftop...kind of (there are some things a little wonky in her logic in that song, but it's relate-able, so that's a step in the right direction). It's funny though, her voice sounds a little Rihanna-esque at one point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all I've got for ya for now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/899461471995451515-1947853337892313673?l=modernstoneage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/1947853337892313673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=899461471995451515&amp;postID=1947853337892313673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/1947853337892313673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/1947853337892313673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/2008/11/if-ya-like-it-then-ya-shoulda-put-ranng.html' title='IF YA LIKE IT THEN YA SHOULDA PUT A RANNG ON IT!'/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qyNhuNfeSx8/SSWmAAfGo1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/uAGiTkLFJvs/s72-c/rangonit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-899461471995451515.post-2250831089374885174</id><published>2008-11-19T21:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T22:08:06.080-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='intro'/><title type='text'>New venue, Same old melodramatic psuedo-existential dribble drabble....</title><content type='html'>I hail from the land of LiveJournal, but I felt like I needed a fresh start in order to come up with new things to complain about//pretend to be an expert about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Michelle, an eighteen year old college freshman. In typical prolonged-adolescence fashion, I have no idea where I will be in four years or even next year and that very thought both terrifies and confuses me.  And I've got a great back up plan with my best girlfrennn that if things don't work out for us in the marriage department by age 33, we will at least temporarily move in together and invest in more cats than it's legal to possess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Random Smorgasbord of Miscellaneous "Back-Pocket" Information:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost always miss the boat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't stop listening to "Stars and Sons" by Broken Social Scene lately.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm hopelessly addicted to trashy television (degrassi....everything else on t.v....) and black sitcoms from past years (cosby show, steve harvey show, a different world...oh dear god yes).&lt;br /&gt;I also watch substantial programming...but who doesn't?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, say: "Spring Awakening" to me. Honestly, just say it. I will probably begin to emit an odd whirring sound of sorts indicating immense uncontainable excitement. I love that shit more than a morbidly obese kid fiends devil's food cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty introverted, but not unfriendly. It's something I'm working on.&lt;br /&gt;And I'd honest to god just sit back and observe everything forever if you let me.  My main goal in life is to amass as much knowledge (useless and useful alike) and sage wisdom as humanly possible, and if I'm lucky...a little more than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My main existential crisis:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't love anything enough to hone it.not well aqquainted with anything enough to own it. Now would be the time to take action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, just talk to me. I'm not this boring all the time, really!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/899461471995451515-2250831089374885174?l=modernstoneage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/feeds/2250831089374885174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=899461471995451515&amp;postID=2250831089374885174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/2250831089374885174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/899461471995451515/posts/default/2250831089374885174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://modernstoneage.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-venue-same-old-melodramatic-psuedo.html' title='New venue, Same old melodramatic psuedo-existential dribble drabble....'/><author><name>Michelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00867653460159120439</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
