<?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-2698763031806667107</id><updated>2011-09-09T02:07:00.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life, Love, and Luxury</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-3810274697752449189</id><published>2009-07-24T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T20:36:19.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Don't be so humble, you're not that great". - Golda Meir</title><content type='html'>So as  life moves forward it has consistantly gotten busier crazier and a little bit more brighter.&lt;div&gt;Refreshing to say the least. Well as refreshing as it can get.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The issue with  the rapist  died. He didn't admit to everything total for the conference call. I have been getting called, stalked, followed, left messages. It's scary. I really can't handle it. I have thrown myself into panic attacks. Scares me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I spent the night a few nights ago just crying. I haven't done that in awhile. It was with the redhead. I hate crying especially in front of him. He gave me some advice to just confront him. I don't know if I could do that. Really? The man who fucked me to the extent of bruises on my legs, my disoriented self didn't know what to do. I still don't know what to do when it comes to the extent of seeing him on campus. It happens, more than I would like as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It kind of makes me scared to see what happens next. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was comforting to know he had some problems too. I just wish he kind of understood why my trust issues are out of control. Atleast for the moment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In happier in news, I spoke with my brother for the first time in over 20 years. They have been looking for me. Amazing.We all hate my father, and I actually kind of look like them. Pretty nuts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Paisley Jane signing out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/2698763031806667107-3810274697752449189?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/3810274697752449189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=3810274697752449189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/3810274697752449189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/3810274697752449189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/07/dont-be-so-humble-youre-not-that-great.html' title='&quot;Don&apos;t be so humble, you&apos;re not that great&quot;. - Golda Meir'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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-2698763031806667107.post-1755221773821904625</id><published>2009-06-10T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T21:49:43.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>“Your heart is my piñata.”</title><content type='html'>Well alot has happened since I last posted. Which I don't even remember. This one isn't really up-lifting or happy. It's just my way to vent. And at this point in time. It's something I need. Something healthy perhaps.&lt;div&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It all started  Around May 17th. I was admitted into the hospital. For my vomiting problem which was later diagnosed as Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome. I had 2 allergic reactions. One to something called reglan and the other to some mass amount of potassium they put into my system. But during this time- something else happened. They prescribed me with something called Ambien. You know  the one where you get a good nights rest? Well after a week of being in the hospital and an endoscopy later- I was discharged. But for the next three days I was on nothing- and not sleeping.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;For the next 4 days- I slept. Maybe not well. But I slept. I wouldn't remember things during the day- and when I slept- I would be knocked out. To the extent of where you could shake me and yell at me- I would just sleep through it. Which you know intially people dream to sleep like this. I was content for the moment- until something happen. Something I probably will remember along with a few other things for the rest of my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So during the day of May 29-30th  I went swimming at my pool and hung out with a few friends. Sure I got a little frustrated with Nathan. But what else is new.I don't even know why now- so its obviously that important. I went to bed at 930 and woke up at 12 ish. A friend came  over to talk. from that point on I remember nothing. Mind you I was on Ambien.  Remarkably my friend, Tristan mentioned issues with memory loss. Which I had suffered the night before when I crashed at Nathan's not remembering when people called to talk to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So May 30th happened. I woke up. Brusing on my thieghs and noticable  brusing on my neck- the back of it. My roommate walks out and asks ," did you have sex with BLEEEEP".  I said  I guess so-  I didn't remember a thing. The shock  was rediculous. The only thing that was going through my head is- why me? I didn't do anything- I wasn't being seductive nonetheless flirtatous. I was drugged out of my mind asleep. I felt used. Like all I was good for was someone to sleep with- someone to use. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In that factor - to be used by someone  that you didn't want to associate yourself with nothing more than friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I  didn't understand why I was having panic attacks. Like breakdown in the middle of Fry's over Good and Plenty breakdown. I was a wreck. At this point in time 3 people knew what happened. My roomate- Me( or what I could see was wrong)-and the perpertrator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the week went on things got worse-- my sleep schedule was off. I felt out of sorts. Not like myself. I was in the state of fear. Until I got a text from the Perpretrator. Which included-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wasn't last night fun?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me- I don't remember last night and  what happened? Did we have sex? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perp- Yeah. I stopped when you told me too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't remember him coming in my room nonetheless giving someone permission to have sex with me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It came to the point when I had one of these attacks right before I went to the doctor. I reorganized my thoughts and decided I needed to talk to someone.. tell someone else. And that's when I got ahold of Tempe police. And explained my situation.  I also later explained it to Nathan and 2 other friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am at the breaking point of where I feel pressured to file charges. I know the factor of a rape case in Tempe going through is less than 5 percent. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or do I put a restraining order on this person. And it stay there for a year. Unless someone looks him up for a job and it's there for life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel kind of worthless. I feel used. I don't even want to be around people anymore. People don't get the idea of someone having that ultimate control over you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I had some kind of power to fix it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I am selling some of the possessions that are directly associated with this crime. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am living until further notice. I want to move on with life- but don't really have anyone to talk about this with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-1755221773821904625?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/1755221773821904625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=1755221773821904625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/1755221773821904625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/1755221773821904625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/06/your-heart-is-my-pinata.html' title='“Your heart is my piñata.”'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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-2698763031806667107.post-291657341836492458</id><published>2009-05-07T19:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T19:18:35.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I wake, I wake, I wake and greet the day The light is on the change is made I can see my way</title><content type='html'>Alot has happened in the past week. Hell and even the past month.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I met the infamous Jon Black. That was fun. We had a good time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;School is over minus 2 finals. I like it that way. I got all a's and b's. Go me! I can be smart- well you know if I apply myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I took a practice LSAT to see how well I did-167 not too bad. If I break 170 ill consider law school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I saw MAE it was fantastically amazing. Especially the after acoustic show. They move me well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Men are interesting, the more I disassociate myself from the redhead... the more others come onto me. It's interesting. I haven't done anything about it. I dont think I should most of them live out of state. And I want to make sure everything is going to be right. You know a nice guy, because in all actuality anyone can sleep with assholes. I do it, it hasn't hurt me yet. Go figure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alot of it I have decided about men is that shouldnt be my project, I should just enjoy the company thats what I have been doing lately. Alot less stress, I decided I do deserve someone better. Someone who makes me smile for no apparent reason, laugh without worries, and have a conversation I can remember. I haven't got that in awhile. Where I just sigh and go "wow". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think you know the more you expect out of life the less you get from it. It's kind of like- when people expect from a situation something surprises them and something good comes from it. In some ways of dating it work like  the person who expects less ends up finding someone else or something else to spend their time doing. It's sad. It's why relationships should be an equal balance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am looking for that balance. Soon I will find it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-291657341836492458?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/291657341836492458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=291657341836492458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/291657341836492458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/291657341836492458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-wake-i-wake-i-wake-and-greet-day.html' title='I wake, I wake, I wake and greet the day The light is on the change is made I can see my way'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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-2698763031806667107.post-7470862463498077680</id><published>2009-04-14T23:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T00:21:23.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby- it's been a long day. Things aint going my way.</title><content type='html'> Lots have happened in  the past week.&lt;div&gt;I am avoiding talking about males. Lets just say the one I like the good things are happening and I am not just focusing on that. Got shit to do!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;School is great. I got a 99% on my presentation. I am apparently an impressive public speaker. go figure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My family is off in Indiana enjoying their life. Hopefully I will get some Mello Yello.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder how- I will take Friday- it's Relay for Life sponsered by the American Cancer Society. Not a fan of the organization but my fathers spirit probably shouldnt be unsettled. it will be emotional.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh yeah. I haven't slept well in weeks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Amber Hess' murderers are being charged as Adults. Thank whatever powerful force decided that. May 5th it's d-day.May Amber Rest in Peace.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; yes this was depressing I apologize.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh and FYI I am over throwing the young dems at ASU.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-7470862463498077680?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/7470862463498077680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=7470862463498077680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/7470862463498077680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/7470862463498077680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/04/baby-its-been-long-day-things-aint.html' title='Baby- it&apos;s been a long day. Things aint going my way.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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-2698763031806667107.post-8552156633749217274</id><published>2009-04-09T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T23:25:17.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes the party takes you places that you didn’t really plan on going</title><content type='html'> So here I chill this Thursday. I am Exhausted. Used, and most of all thirsty.&lt;div&gt; I am always thirsty though&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; But the  used part.. apparently the redhead doesn't want to string  me along. I don't get strung along. I  usually neglect the situation until I bitch enough to the BFF or to someone else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have too much stuff for someone like him. I would like to call it a life. Sometimes  I wish he had one too maybe that could lead to something more. And no VIDEO GAMES do not constitute a life. I wanted to know if it did, I checked my facts- still doesn't count.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other news, I'll call him Deli boy since there is a deli named after  him by where I work.  He's the one who I have liked for awhile. It's all unstable for the factor  of the whirlwind of bullshit like being sick, me not being able to go to his formal. Flusters me. He's a good guy, just wish something would happen. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then there is the boy who I will probably molest if there were ever the opportunity-  too bad he lives in the hellish town of Tucson. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My family is leaving soon to go back to Indiana. I hope they have fun, since I can't go. But i don't think I want to look at nursing homes and going to cardiologists appointments and when they see me they always check my ehart because I am so young. Yeah- expectancy of my getting heart disease to them is 25... wtf.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well look at the  demo graphic&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Both parents heart disease by  age 40.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need some relaxing. A break. Can you find me one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh and I am awesome at STD trivia. IF you didn't know- now you do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/2698763031806667107-8552156633749217274?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/8552156633749217274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=8552156633749217274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/8552156633749217274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/8552156633749217274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/04/sometimes-party-takes-you-places-that.html' title='Sometimes the party takes you places that you didn’t really plan on going'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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-2698763031806667107.post-795129574743210008</id><published>2009-04-08T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T11:15:04.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I second that emotion.</title><content type='html'>I have been busy bee lately.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With all the school work I have, plus work, and the obvious stress.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I  decided against the redhead for good. We can be friends but nothing more is what I think. I deserve someone who wants me to be in their life. And according to everyone else I deserve better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am just angry about  that I can't make it to my friends formal because my mom is flying back into town. From Indiana. I just really would like to do more things with him and get to know him better it just hasnt been happening since  I got sick then he got sick. Then he got put on Phenergan (The worlds most evil medicine ever). I just would like to hang out with him more. I like  the people he's around usually its a good time. I don't know I really wish I could just go. The thing is if I were to go to a formal it probably would be AEPHI's formal. Shrug. I know he reads this now and again. This is me telling you-  especially after the text I sent you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Easter this weekend. My mom leaves Monday with the grandparents. It will be refreshing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am at a crossroads of what I want. I don't know what to do with anyone. With anything. I want a drink- a backrub- and a  good time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;GIve me one of the three. I am yours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-795129574743210008?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/795129574743210008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=795129574743210008' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/795129574743210008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/795129574743210008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-second-that-emotion.html' title='I second that emotion.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-7001692256638881218</id><published>2009-03-30T11:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T11:35:38.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Come on whisper it once.</title><content type='html'>So as the Month of March closes  all that comes with it collapses.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No more march badassness. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My grandparents are leaving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;School is almost over. Thank god.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So more juicy gossip I may present.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; I have walking pneumonia, which fucking sucks. I came back to Tempe  Saturday to a warm welcoming. Then throw in a mustashe party.. which I had a panic attack at.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I met the redheads family. I just kind of want to know what he wants from me. I am  kind of  confused. You just don't someones family do you? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess you really are never going to get what you want. Like Purdue winning March Madness,  or getting the last cookie from the cookie jar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I suppose that's all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Paisley Jane signing off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-7001692256638881218?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/7001692256638881218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=7001692256638881218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/7001692256638881218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/7001692256638881218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/03/come-on-whisper-it-once.html' title='Come on whisper it once.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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-2698763031806667107.post-4851059191814123575</id><published>2009-03-26T22:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T23:09:25.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>raindrops keep falling on my head.</title><content type='html'>As the end of March approaches so do the cold and flu season- or in my case walking pnuemonia.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah, so much fun. Mind you in the past 24 hours I haven't slept. I haven't really heard from anyone. I saw my sorority sisters which was interesting  considering I didn't talk. I just sat there and watched ( I also don't have a voice). Alot of the girls worry me in the sheer fact that they just discovered people may like them for what they are - not who they are. But what do I know.. apparently nothing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Boys. The good the bad and the ugly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;lets go from the ugly to the good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ugly- Redhead. throughout this whole week of me being sick he didn't believe nonetheless are that i was sick and or try to do anything.  I would love to be worth something to this kid but thereis no way to do so. I have for the most part stopped trying. He's currently texting me pointless messages. I remember not even a month ago where he would drive up  to Phoenix to see me. I am sorry- I know you don't want a relationship from me I do believe that you should treat me  with some sort of respect. And RESPECT not just in the sleeping with no one ese factor. I want someone I could actually trust to have a coversation with. But apparently thats not how it works.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bad-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;An old friend who got a girlfriend andrrecntly broke up with  her is annoying the crap out me. he's all your great i could be a great rebound we both need one etc.(FYI I need nothing) He's been way too overbearing while I have been sick asking me if I need anything  and then of course not being able to because I live in Phoenix. GO FUCKING FIGURE. I wouldn't want anything from him. I deserve someone who thinks I am good enough the first time around K thanks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The little jew who could I would like to call it. He was a dark horse through most of my trials and tribulations. I had a nice time with him at the cooking class. he's been messaging me- to do stuff after I get better. he shows potential it's refreshing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And FML.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-4851059191814123575?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/4851059191814123575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=4851059191814123575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/4851059191814123575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/4851059191814123575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/03/raindrops-keep-falling-on-my-head.html' title='raindrops keep falling on my head.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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-2698763031806667107.post-1423598999294417961</id><published>2009-03-19T14:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T15:14:15.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It seems to me that maybe,It pretty much always means no</title><content type='html'>Well, its two days after St. Patricks day-- and I feel like garbage. &lt;div&gt;Physically, emotionally, mentally. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am at this breaking point. Where I am going to just scream in everyones face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel like I am those religious nutbags on campus. Preaching something no body cares about or even willing to listen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when I listen I get this..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A friend was telling me about how I am this amazing person. Because I could detect that his relationship was going down the shitter before it even started. Go figure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I tried to open up again. But once again someone was in a crabby mood and felt shut out that was awesome. Makes me feel happy as a clam. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went to the Phoenix Suns game yesterday. We won. I lost my voice. I started puking when I got to the Redheads house. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Woke up with morning with no voice. And a fever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Still did my midterm and a 3 page paper. But you know- the worse you feel the more you get done. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or atleast in my case.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The sorority is interesting. I got "big" or like mentor sister. She's a real sweet girl. But the other girls I feel in alot of cases that I don't fit in if that makes any sense. Most of them don't work. Alot of them come from wealthy families. I am not saying that this is a bad thing. But  when saying you have to work, and do everything else- it would be nice to have someone to relate to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am back to have those panic attacks. Had one at 3 am this morning. I just let him lie there next me. As he was somber I kind of  felt neglected. Here I am in hysterics. Noticing that I haven't really needed anyone. But when it comes to the point of wanting someone in your life. They either push you away- get sucked into something/someone/ or are sleeping.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Can I be the one sleeping? Or am I always just there for everyone else?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hopefully my throat will feel better by 5... I am seeing Rent. If I feel like shit- hopefully, I wont go to work tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just a few thoughts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hopefully ASU beats Temple tomorrow!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My roomate is gone for the weekend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So is the dog!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe if I block everyone out of my life- maybe that will make people want to get to know me better and know why I am so cynical or wait is that someone else?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/2698763031806667107-1423598999294417961?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/1423598999294417961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=1423598999294417961' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/1423598999294417961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/1423598999294417961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/03/it-seems-to-me-that-maybeit-pretty-much.html' title='It seems to me that maybe,It pretty much always means no'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-3069448149560217000</id><published>2009-03-16T00:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T00:36:32.337-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blackbird singing in the dead of night.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6REpPRJIzts/Sb4Ba9sLXGI/AAAAAAAAACo/SlQEZHjwUWg/s1600-h/Photo+97.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6REpPRJIzts/Sb4Ba9sLXGI/AAAAAAAAACo/SlQEZHjwUWg/s320/Photo+97.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313686173091847266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I have not blogged well since before V-day. And BOY alot has happened since.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Basically, the sorority is going well minus being on the dirty. Le shrug. I figure you know- it just gets more people to know me and or about me. It was rude, and crude- especially since  I went to a party later that week and was asked if I was on it. I just went yeah. I love how people get misconceptions of me from one silly picture. Such is life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In other news males are interesting. I still liked the redheaded one. He makes me giggle, smile, and all of those  great feeling things. I just feel kind of stuck with the feeling of wanting more or just being happy where I am at. I haven't really had feelings for a person like this before. I am usually used to someone harassing me as a joke but then its the little things like him winking or kissing me on the cheek. I even tried opening up to him. I just don't do that. I am never just ready to open up to someone. And for some odd reason. I would love to with him. I am just afraid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Along the lines of boys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another boy is around who I am almost sure is interested . But I don't know what to feel/expect. He's a nice guy. Hung up over a girl. Like they all are. I was his DD on Tuesday after his Frat had a party. It was funny as he yelled in the parking lot of his complex,"You're really fucking cute." I laughed. That's my reaction to anything a goofy drunk says.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shrug. The sorority stuff  has been going well. I love the girls. They are a good bunch of people. Even though the redheads new avorite term for me is sorority slut.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/2698763031806667107-3069448149560217000?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/3069448149560217000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=3069448149560217000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/3069448149560217000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/3069448149560217000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/03/blackbird-singing-in-dead-of-night.html' title='Blackbird singing in the dead of night.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6REpPRJIzts/Sb4Ba9sLXGI/AAAAAAAAACo/SlQEZHjwUWg/s72-c/Photo+97.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-3803749877579342104</id><published>2009-02-10T15:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T15:33:04.292-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The flustered frustration continues...</title><content type='html'>Hey all, I haven't really updated lately.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am  just so busy. SERIOUSLY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;School&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Work&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the unattainable crush.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and rushing..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh wait did I say rushing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am actually considering rushing a sorority. AEPHI. The German girl is rushing a Jewish sorority. Oxymoron? Yes. Do I care? No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other news, Danielle is going nuts. She takes way too much to thinking everything is about her. When it's not.  I definitely don't want to be like her. Hence why I get myself busy. I feel like she is losing all of her friendships because of the way she is acting towards people. And that is not my fault!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My health has gone nuts... It's no longer crohns disease it's- ulcerative colitis. Wikipedia that shit. It's disgusting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That boy I have a crush on. Idk his deal. I am not going to force anything. Not worth it since apparently I am not worth it to him. But that's his problem not mine. Hopefully he stops thinking I am mad or taking anger out him. When I am not..:--D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went out with a friend a few nights ago and they thought it was something else... Yeah thats never happening again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family is nuts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And work is crazy. My manager isn't doing anything like normal we will see what will happen after- Stephanie talks to Dan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seems like always around Valentines Day someone gets their heart broken.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Hopefully it's not mine&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;3&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-3803749877579342104?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/3803749877579342104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=3803749877579342104' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/3803749877579342104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/3803749877579342104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/02/flustered-frustration-continues.html' title='The flustered frustration continues...'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-8308026988613173320</id><published>2009-01-26T10:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T10:36:30.001-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Ready because here I come.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6REpPRJIzts/SX4CnZeV1cI/AAAAAAAAABw/JM7DEsCagMg/s1600-h/Photo+65.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6REpPRJIzts/SX4CnZeV1cI/AAAAAAAAABw/JM7DEsCagMg/s320/Photo+65.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295673087710582210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey all it's been awhile since I last blogged. What has been going on in my world? Well work is super boring. It's starting to get annoying.&lt;div&gt;School has started.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; My first class was Math&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As most of you know, I am not a big fan of math. I hate Math... it's horrible. I am doing okay in it right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I have Family Cultural and Ethnic Diversity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The teacher is super energetic. Which I really like. Plus in the first class we watched an episode of the office which I freaking love. We shall see how these classes go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then  I had parent adolescence relationships. It was interesting.  The teacher is a snooze. Were watching a video about the brain tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then English is boring- basically with Mr. Garrison. So funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Courtship and Marriage is funny- it's with FEY so it's usually pretty amusing. Plus its my last class of the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other news. The redheaded boy  and I are taking things slow. God only knows whats going on in his brian. But Ia m okay with taking things slow. Good things come to those who wait.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's been sick. :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; I also have been wondering why he keeps thinkings I would drop him. he says something along the lines of do you know how many guys would want to date you? I  figure if I am with him. that's what counts. I am not into cheating. But thats me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/2698763031806667107-8308026988613173320?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/8308026988613173320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=8308026988613173320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/8308026988613173320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/8308026988613173320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/01/get-ready-because-here-i-come.html' title='Get Ready because here I come.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6REpPRJIzts/SX4CnZeV1cI/AAAAAAAAABw/JM7DEsCagMg/s72-c/Photo+65.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-2881453592238779843</id><published>2009-01-14T11:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T13:43:14.533-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am sick. WTF.</title><content type='html'>Okay I never get sick. Minus my Crohns. And I get sick. Partially because of taking care of the boy. Partially because I fucking am sick- and kids at work are getting sick.&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am exhausted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have watched -&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saved&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because I Said So&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;American Teen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later I am watching &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;CAMP&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Shawshank Redemption.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and pineapple express.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;FIX ME.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/2698763031806667107-2881453592238779843?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/2881453592238779843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=2881453592238779843' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/2881453592238779843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/2881453592238779843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-am-sick-wtf.html' title='I am sick. WTF.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-9022673677551258127</id><published>2009-01-11T23:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T23:18:08.105-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Than A Feeling.</title><content type='html'>So the wonderful world of me is confusing. I usually am super fucking confident. Fucking badass. I know what I want and how to get it.&lt;div&gt;Just not as of lately. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am a big mess of confusion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am starting to trust someone. Yeah it took a few months. But I am. It scares the living shit out of me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have never been one to trust... EVER. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Especially after the whole jewdouche  incident and his snagglenosed bitch expelling my secret that no one really needed to know about.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dont get jealous. And I am fucking jealous- and it's over nothing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel like screaming into a pillow and beating up people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't get crushes. I don't hold shit in and what am I doing?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;EXACTLY That.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And why the fuck do I feel like I have connection with someone- and I can't think of what that connection is minus&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-family life&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-movies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-hookah&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- dead baby jokes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- and he's a dynamite kisser.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- kind of gets why life just sucks sometimes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- isn't a little bitch about my stomach&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- and he listens. it's nice. it's not even rude.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- plus the sarcasm is a turn on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And why the fuck am I still rambling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other news. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Crohns and colitis walk 4-18-09&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;go to it. Not relay for life. they fucking suck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Advice?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;K thanks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I keep wanting to say I am happy in this spot. i just keep getting more and more confused with things.I hate that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I want something more. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But that wont happen knowing him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-9022673677551258127?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/9022673677551258127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=9022673677551258127' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/9022673677551258127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/9022673677551258127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/01/more-than-feeling.html' title='More Than A Feeling.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-8603667286125944720</id><published>2009-01-03T21:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T21:41:15.671-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a fierce bitch.</title><content type='html'>So like normal I am good house wife. I made chicken and noodles last night. Got drunk. Spilled my stupid pathetic feelings out. True story.&lt;br /&gt;Okay let me begin where it all started. So  that guy the one who bought the necklace- I was making him dinner.  He has made me dinner twice. So I thought. Who doesn't love homemade chicken and noodles. They are really that good.  And Brian said, he was bored. So I let him come over. STUPID MISTAKE. Let me get into  who Brian is- Brian is a gay black guy that is crazy. So crazy he broke into my apartment. So lame.&lt;br /&gt;And then it turned into a party. This guy, garrett, lori, kim, and heather along with brian came over.&lt;br /&gt;I got jealous over the guy who bought a necklace. Which all brought some shit out. I decided- hey lets get drunk.&lt;br /&gt; And drunk did I get.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone slowly left minus Garrett. He kind of came onto me. But I kicked everyone out.  And who was at my door...&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else but Jordan! He needed helped. I was drunk and was a bitch I feel bad about that. But I wanted to fix some problems with the necklace boy.&lt;br /&gt;SHRUG.&lt;br /&gt;I ended up talking  to his friend, lets call him sprouts boy. He basically told me we were both afraid of a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;We ended up talking about what we wanted. It was refreshing. A healthy kind of talk. I like those. Although I was trashed.&lt;br /&gt;So I wake up. And go back to my apartment to brian at my apartment in boy short blaring club music. AFTER HE BROKE INTO MY HOUSE.&lt;br /&gt;Shrug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really am confused and don't know what to do. I like necklace boy and  i get that we both should wait to trust each other because fuck we all know I have trust issues. But I really think something good could come out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best wishes. And a damn happy new year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had one. And an amazing new years kiss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-8603667286125944720?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/8603667286125944720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=8603667286125944720' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/8603667286125944720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/8603667286125944720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-am-fierce-bitch.html' title='I am a fierce bitch.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-1360399773836785808</id><published>2008-12-29T22:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T22:42:24.778-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"People are just as happy as they make up their minds to be."</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6REpPRJIzts/SVnCuAbMwrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/qDp_nbzkUSU/s1600-h/Photo+42.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6REpPRJIzts/SVnCuAbMwrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/qDp_nbzkUSU/s320/Photo+42.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285469733339841202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well as Christmas came and went. It fucking crazy. Well what else is new.&lt;div&gt;My best friend- well out of 2. Went to Jail.  4th street. Fucking nuts. Most of it is BS. And I am  worried about her. She was talking about killing herself earlier. Scares me shitless especially after Jake. I worry about her. Her family is kind of a mess- if you ever read this  I am sorry but dealing with the older brother it kind of is. She just needs some stability. With the 2 felonies she got- she no longer persue her dream of becoming a teacher. Which is fucking lame. You egg someones car, and leave them notes you get 2 felonies. And he thinks your threatening life? Please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other more exciting news. Today at work I got paid 50 bucks to play laser tag. FUCK YEAH your jealous. See I knew it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I found out- that my friends mother used to be the security guard at my high school it was kind of strange seeing the lady  who always yelled at my friends( within good reason) in her PJ's.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh and if you ever read this- remember that guy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah I got an present from him.Cute necklace. We did a little exchange it was cute...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah.. I am thinking too much. People can their lives get better so I can stop fixing them? K thanks?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh yeah I did a bad thing. Oh well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/2698763031806667107-1360399773836785808?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/1360399773836785808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=1360399773836785808' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/1360399773836785808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/1360399773836785808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2008/12/people-are-just-as-happy-as-they-make.html' title='&quot;People are just as happy as they make up their minds to be.&quot;'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6REpPRJIzts/SVnCuAbMwrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/qDp_nbzkUSU/s72-c/Photo+42.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-2009867865592423566</id><published>2008-12-22T19:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T20:41:23.469-08:00</updated><title type='text'>omnia causa fiunt</title><content type='html'>My title- &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;omnia causa fiunt&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;~ That's in Latin.Everything happens for a reason.. well atleast thats what it is in English.&lt;br /&gt;I have been a big believer in this motto for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;But I have been at a crossroads at what I want.&lt;br /&gt;There is this guy-.. ( yeah there is always a guy)&lt;br /&gt;I have been hanging out with him  for a few weeks well since around Halloween. Things started out slow just kind of hanging out. Goofing around picking on each other.&lt;br /&gt;My friend, Danielle noticed it first. We were at Tyler's party. He kept touching me,  picked me up when he hugged me. My friend, Kim said- This isn't dirty dancing. Do not put Jill in a corner.&lt;br /&gt;Let me back up- and describe him a bit.&lt;br /&gt;6'2  Red hair. Green eyes. Charming as hell. Smart as hell. I haven't ever been able to have a conversation with a man about Thoreau in years( or well since junior year in high school english when we were talking about it.).Well minus  Sena but he doesn't count.( No offense.) Has decent taste in movies- or well ones I like. And reads as much as I do- if not more.&lt;br /&gt;He does cute things. Never really had that experience. It's nice. I enjoy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course there is something I am afraid of. Before I dive in head first.&lt;br /&gt;My  friend, liked him. I suppose alot. She got out of a relationship- they kind of dated kind of not.&lt;br /&gt;I kind of feel like I am stuck there.&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea where the hell I am in with all of this.&lt;br /&gt;The most of an answer is-  from his friend, Luke," You know, you make him happy- right?" &lt;br /&gt;Which is nice to hear. It's even nicer to know I feel the same way.&lt;br /&gt;But really. What am I to do?&lt;br /&gt;With this kid- I actually want to learn more- and tell him things about me. Which I don't ever want to do with people. Hello I write in a blog. I don't tell everyone my stories. I think thats kind of a sign.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully something good would happen. I need it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;Love is an attempt to change a piece of a dream-world into reality.- Thoreau&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-2009867865592423566?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/2009867865592423566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=2009867865592423566' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/2009867865592423566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/2009867865592423566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2008/12/omnia-causa-fiunt.html' title='omnia causa fiunt'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-6877051862186980045</id><published>2008-10-12T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T17:01:05.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If you were falling...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Hi. if you want to read this email.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-6877051862186980045?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/6877051862186980045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=6877051862186980045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/6877051862186980045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/6877051862186980045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2008/10/if-you-were-falling.html' title='If you were falling...'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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-2698763031806667107.post-861722936411045838</id><published>2008-07-26T21:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T21:23:09.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Well I believe Jesus was a jew... but he sure wasn't my savoir.</title><content type='html'>So today... I went to Sedona. If you any of you have been to sedona its one of the prettiest places in the world. Red rocks everywhere great weather.&lt;br /&gt;Well We were basically committing some offense by spreading Lorraine's ashes.. in the rocks in some indian reservation area thing... by a catholic church.&lt;br /&gt;Mind you...&lt;br /&gt;this week&lt;br /&gt;I have worked 48 hours.&lt;br /&gt;Lots of kids&lt;br /&gt;Hiked 2 miles yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;And hiked 3 miles today&lt;br /&gt;And was forced to deal with her kids and was asked when did my boobs grow inn by Lorraines grandson.&lt;br /&gt;Im getting the to point of stressing at no end around those two.&lt;br /&gt;I ended up with 12 bug bites and a splotchy rash.&lt;br /&gt;Go me!&lt;br /&gt;In other news I  love Rock Springs pie.&lt;br /&gt;And am honing into - 2 weeks of celibacy but not without offer.&lt;br /&gt;I think i want it.. it relieves stress.&lt;br /&gt;Everything is worked out with moving in with Yvonne. So that should be good. Seems like a good girl that I have know for forever.&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking about someone I knew ... pretty well. IN ALL ASPECTS...&lt;br /&gt;and why do people care so much about things... that well people don't care about and or want to fix.&lt;br /&gt;I also am mentioning that vegetarianism pisses me off. Because it makes no sense to someone likeme who sees the purpose if you use alot of the animal. Big deal cows fart methane.Get a chemist out there to go collect farts.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if vegetarianism really helps.. and if veganism does.&lt;br /&gt;I think its fucking pointless.&lt;br /&gt;I also think that religion is a joke after toward I kept getting told shit about jesus and how he loves me and that good garb.&lt;br /&gt;I can't do it. I like things that are tactile something I can believe in.&lt;br /&gt;I have had very little faith in most things in life.&lt;br /&gt;I  have never been one much for emotions its difficult to express soemthing  if the person your talking to doesn't grasp the knowledge of - I think im n lvoe with you but- don't quote me on that.&lt;br /&gt;I ponder what love is like.&lt;br /&gt;I also wonder what happened to Twila and Craig.He's a jerk... totally cheated....online ... not even in person.&lt;br /&gt;I hate bug bites.&lt;br /&gt;I hate being told i am a bad person because i dont have faith in Jesus...&lt;br /&gt;eh.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;I am fucking amazing&lt;br /&gt;and once you think your cool- someone is always cooler than you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also am loving the ray charles song them that got.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one of my kids I work with has a disese only 1 in one million has where he doesn't have any melinin in his skin.&lt;br /&gt;NUTS!''&lt;br /&gt;Im also mad that everyone seems to be fighting.&lt;br /&gt;I want schoolt o start and I want something amazing to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-861722936411045838?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/861722936411045838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=861722936411045838' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/861722936411045838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/861722936411045838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2008/07/well-i-believe-jesus-was-jew-but-he.html' title='Well I believe Jesus was a jew... but he sure wasn&apos;t my savoir.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2698763031806667107.post-725452210291367426</id><published>2008-07-20T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T18:23:47.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This whole growing up thing is complete bullshit.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Well I should probably introduce myself as Paisley Jane. Student at the largest university in America. Studying to help people out and end up making no money. Such is life right? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I changed from Education to Family and human development. Alot of things pop in and out of my head and wanted something so i can vent about my many friend/bitches/and or boos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So get this. I am starting my second year in college and  pumped. Well minus the whole factor of me not having much money. But hopefully ASU will finally give me my long awaited refund. So I can have a safe/ secure move in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I feel kind of screwed over in the men department.&lt;br /&gt;I know I am pretty good person. Work with children, volunteer, help the community that jazz.&lt;br /&gt;But when people look at me is really all they see is sex? Atleast at  the ges of 18-25?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to an old friend last night, lets call him- Christian. And we were talking about how everyone is paired up. And if your single and seen with more than one person it seems somewhat promiscous?&lt;br /&gt;The other idea was - how is love suppose to feel. Yeah I might have enough experience to run a small brothel in Holland. But the real attachment to love? How does that work? I am almost positive  that it doesn't work the way most think of it does- become a friend, fall in love, gt knocked up and or married    get a divorce and the cycle continues. What qualifies as a lasting relationship? Does it bring you joy or pain?&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that I am deeply afraid of  some sort of relationship in the romantic way because I tend to attract similar people. Moody, intelligent, and unsociable.&lt;br /&gt;In return all I want really- is a sociable , fun, artsy,  romantic type of person.&lt;br /&gt;And no romance doesn't always means flowers just something different that I can appreciate.&lt;br /&gt;How can you feel stable without sex. Let's try another week of celibacy- week two?&lt;br /&gt;Will I get more comfortable with the idea of hwo I want to get someone to know me personally before  Iam sexual with them?&lt;br /&gt;Or should I just fuck and suck?&lt;br /&gt;Because at this age.&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I can handle... monogamy.&lt;br /&gt;Especially after that last nutcase I had.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2698763031806667107-725452210291367426?l=paisleyjane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/feeds/725452210291367426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2698763031806667107&amp;postID=725452210291367426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/725452210291367426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2698763031806667107/posts/default/725452210291367426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paisleyjane.blogspot.com/2008/07/this-whole-growing-up-thing-is-complete.html' title='This whole growing up thing is complete bullshit.'/><author><name>Jill</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04110483722544290850</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>
