<?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-9017488</id><updated>2012-01-25T01:09:21.215-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Was Born on the Side of a Hill</title><subtitle type='html'>wiggle your finger, put it on your noes, clap your hands, and whistle</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017488.post-5805486810753662087</id><published>2011-11-26T17:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-26T17:49:58.171-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Did You Become a Nurse?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Not that question again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why did you become a nurse?” This is a question I still have to answer on occasion, granted a lot less often since nursing school days. And despite the feeling that I just started yesterday, I have to say it’s going on five years and I guess I’m not a new nurse anymore. These 4 + years have granted me lots of learning opportunities for sure. Some lessons were learned in precious bitter sweet moments and others through blood, sweat, tears, urine, feces, mucous, puss, serousanguinous fluid...ok I’ll stop. My point is I guess I know at least one thing (maybe not quite two) these days. Even with all those fun experiences and my thicker skin there’s always that question that throws me off: “Why did you become a nurse?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This question is often interchangeable or accompanied by the assuming phrase “You must love your job.” Often times out of politeness or to avoid a deeper upsetting conversation I just nod with a little “mmm hmmm.” The truth (or so I thought) up until recently was always: “No, are you nuts? What about this stressful back breaking job should I be so in love with? Rude people? Long hours? Gross daily tasks? Not being able to eat or go to the bathroom for 12-14 hours? Dying people? Wiping your butt? You must be absolutely out of your mind...in fact I know you are!” As you see, it’s definitely more appropriate to go with my first answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then something happened. Or maybe it was happening all along. I’m not sure, but my 4+ years of having a case of the mondays recently came to a head. All this time I was dwelling on the horrible parts of my job experience. You might say I was a burnt out nurse from the beginning. Whatever it was, bitterness set in somewhere along the way. I felt it coming on. It’s not a good feeling. I was acutely aware of losing myself. I was not the joyful person I started out as. Hope was gone. Everything and everyone annoyed me. And yes, I was just a bit overly dramatic about it all!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Case of the Mondays&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting here today, I can say I have an appreciation for my role as a nurse, my co-workers, and even those pesky patients. The things that used to annoy me are the things I might admit to cherishing. What was the magic pill that cured my horrible case of the Mondays, you ask? A horrible Monday of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The actual day of the week I don’t recall, but it was a day when all the walls I built up to protect myself from the scary world of nursing came crashing down. It was pretty cliché  really (don’t worry, no one died). No it was one of those stupid days where everything goes wrong. I woke up late. I scurried around like a crazy person to make sure I could still get Starbucks, only to arrive to a crazy floor where I had no time for drinking the good stuff. Then I busted my butt all morning with the goal of being able to just sit down and chart with my cup of coffee reheated. By the time the hour arrived it was basically any normal person’s lunch time (not mine...no lunch that day). I shoved the cup of coffee in the microwave and when that happy DING went off I hurried to grab it...but I grabbed too fast...because I sent the cup flying...spilling the precious and SCALDING contents across the counter, myself, the microwave, the floor, probably small children. The housekeeper witnessed it all of course, and with only a little scolding helped me clean it up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that moment I spoke a self-fulfilling prophecy over myself (here is your warning to watch what you say):  “This day sucks and can’t possibly get better.” I walked away from the pantry muttering curses and feeling dejected. As I predicted, the day only got worse. Nothing was easy. Discharges became hellish nightmares of red tape. Admissions came all too quick and in way too many numbers. And I’m pretty sure whatever pain medicine pharmacy stocked that day was not working because everyone was in pain. Co-workers that normally make my day brighter even annoyed me that day. I felt like if I stopped for one minute I would probably just sit down and cry. My face was red, my eyes were glossy, my temper was short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course that was the exact moment one of my co-workers chose to give me the talk. This person had given me plenty of pep talks in the past (although sometimes they were more like spankings). Usually the pep talk consisted of phrases like:&lt;br /&gt;-“Don’t let them get to you.”&lt;br /&gt;-“You make your own weather.”&lt;br /&gt;-“You don’t smile. You need to smile more.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the speech, it was clear they noticed the change in me I was trying so hard to hide. My joy was MIA. On this day, they chose the worse time, when I was busy trying to  pass meds so I could get my shift over and flee from the building. I can’t remember the exact words they used, only that they were pin-pointing the root cause of all my angst. Didn’t this person know I did not have time to dwell on important life issues? Didn’t they know I’d been trying for a long time to find my joy? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, they were clueless, because the talk went on whether I wanted to or not. It is important to note that I consider this person a kindred spirit and we share the same faith.  So this speech was not aimed at that present moment, nor was it was it meant to make me perform my duties as a nurse better. It was going straight to my heart and spirit...meant to make me remember the person I was. And as embarrassing as it was the tears just flowed with no end in sight. No matter how many people were walking by I could not stop or hide this emotional outpouring. They were not loud tears. They were quiet tears. With each one, a piece of the giant wall I had built came down; not with a giant boom, but with a quiet disassembling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the time I was sort of upset because this person made me admit to feeling weak and powerless again...a feeling I had tried so hard to avoid since my first days as a nurse. Even though I was embarrassed and upset, the act of kindness my friend bestowed upon me initiated a change in me. Later that night as I reflected on the day I realized they gave me the key I’d been searching so hard to find that would lead me back to my joyful self. The key was simply a change in perspective. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started thinking about why I became a nurse in the first place. I was never one of those people that always knew they would be a nurse. I could never find much about nursing that I appreciated. The glass was definitely half empty. In fact, I’ve spent years telling people “it’s not my passion, but it pays the bills.” It was not a glamorous truth, but still the honest truth. I might have blamed it on my parents, saying I became a nurse because they said I needed a practical job in these unstable times. These were only partial truths though. It took stopping the flow of negativity, a breakdown at work, and the freedom my friend gave me to reflect on the kind of person I want to be to come to the full truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;“Why did you become a nurse?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a commercial. Yes, a commercial. You know that Johnson and Johnson campaign: “Dare to Care.”? Well that sucker was airing constantly during my college years, when I was looking for a career path that I counted as “something that really matters.” I nixed other career choices if I thought they sounded too self-serving or what I perceived to be money or power-hungry careers. In my mind I could only do something that would mean tons of self-sacrifice and of course helping others. So when the “Dare to Care” campaign came out, I said to myself “sure why not.” I flocked to the all noble profession of NURSING without another thought. Finally something that would meet my criteria for a job that “matters”!  Plus it would pay the bills and you get to wear pajamas to work! Who wouldn’t want to be a nurse? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t know it, but I only had part of the equation right. The desire to help people is fine. The desire to pay your bills...smart. Pajamas...comfortable. The idea that you can only achieve these goals by working in particular job...absurd. I realize now that it doesn’t matter what you do for 40+ hours a week at work. You can have a caring heart and help people every hour of the day no matter where you are or where you work.  And  on the flip side, being a nurse doesn’t automatically make you Jesus or Mother Theresa either. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn’t able to fully understand my lesson until my co-worker was brave enough to confront me about my careless anger and bitterness. I see now that you are responsible for your actions, your words, your thoughts towards others...no matter what situation you are in. And in my experience, perfect situations are mostly non-existent.  We have the opportunity to serve others every single day in life, wherever we go. You can dare to care all the time, no matter what you do for a living. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a scripture that comes to mind here: &lt;br /&gt;“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”-Mark 12:30-31  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned that true joy is not dependent on circumstance. It is not something that goes away one day and comes back. Joy is not happiness. If you are working with a joyful heart then you do not need thanks in return. If you give without any expectation of receiving in return then you cannot get upset when no one thanks you for your awesomeness. From a Christian perspective, there is nothing sweeter than giving to someone that cannot pay you back (just like God did for us).  And it makes life a lot easier when you start seeing your patients and co-workers not as annoyance, but as the people you are put here to care for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can’t feel taken advantage of by someone if you make it a point to give them everything you’ve got. Sometimes the answer is not thicker skin, or giant walls around your heart. You’ve got to stop with the self-preservation already! In the end, you’ll only truly be rewarded if you let down your walls, and give something real from the heart to the person in front of you. It’s not always easy, but it’s those moments that make life...well, LIFE! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;A New Perspective&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after all that learning I’m pretty much perfected now and life’s only bluebirds and roses. HA! Just kidding. Don’t worry, I’m still overly dramatic, just with a rediscovered comedy side to balance it out. No one’s perfect, and nursing is still hard work.  I realize now that the rude people who used to get to me are probably the ones who just need more love. And those 3 long shifts...are not forever. Plus, I get 4 days off!  And I have to admit those gross tasks like wiping of butts and gnarly dressing changes don’t really bother me in the least...in fact it’s sort of the stuff I love doing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I stopped looking at all the things I hate about my job I could see the million things I love!  I love decorating my floor’s skeleton. I love hearing the stories from my elderly patients (even the confused ones)!  I love that I am able to help someone when they can least help themselves. I love my co-workers and all their hijinks and practical jokes. I love that feeling of teamwork when the you-know-what hits the fan. I love being able to just be there for someone when they are all alone. I love being able to make a daunting situation seem less scary by explaining things and teaching my patients. I love teaching new nurses and nursing students “The ropes.” I also love when my patients and students teach me something I didn’t know.  Did I mention I still get to wear pajamas (oops, I mean scrubs) to work everyday? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even though death is still no fun. I know it’s a part of life. I like knowing that I’ve been trained to do everything I can to help in those situations. It helps to know that even though it can be scary and sometimes no matter what you do, you can’t stop it, there will always be an opportunity to be there for the person in need.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;“So, why did you become a nurse?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I dared to care. It wouldn’t be a dare if it were easy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;“You must love your job!” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m learning to love it everyday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-5805486810753662087?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/5805486810753662087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=5805486810753662087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/5805486810753662087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/5805486810753662087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2011/11/why-did-you-become-nurse.html' title='Why Did You Become a Nurse?'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-9039766812130005330</id><published>2011-02-28T21:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T22:12:49.553-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday Musings</title><content type='html'>Today should have been Tuesday so I could have called this blog Tornado Tuesday. Oh well. I've had too much coffee late in the day and have nothing better to do (well nothing I want to do...plenty of things I could do) than write a random blog. I can't think of one topic to write about, so this will just be a hotchpotch of thoughts. And that's okay because that's pretty much me: random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was my best friend's birthday, which reminds me I need to pay rent. I had fun dodging the tornado's to venture out to the lovely Provino's italian restaurant (about the only place that will give you a free birthday dinner anymore). I got there early, which was a good thing. And sat at the bar drinking my diet coke while the tornado sirens wailed and I waited for the rest of the party to show up late. I seriously love my friend and her family. They are so hilarious. I asked for the rights to their life story. I think they should either be a cartoon or an epic trilogy...not sure which. Maybe I should just make a documentary, so I capture their real essence. I'm not sure there are any actors out there that could do them justice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have recorded the dinner, because there were so many crazy one-liners flying from her mom's mouth. Just an example is when she told the waitress "I'll buy her dinner since it's free, but I'm not paying for the beer. I don't believe in it." I agreed and said the two of us were heading up the temperance committee. Of course when I tried to order my dinner sans cheeze her mom piped in again "She and my daughter are both crazy.  This one's VAY-GAN (aka vegan). She doesn't eat anything from an animal. And that one's gonna drink herself to death. That's why they're friends." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyhoo, I had a good time. I'll have to think of the best route for their story. Seriously, they would make a good movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else. I tried to sleep in today. All weekend when I had to wake up early for work I told myself..."just get up now and Monday you can sleep in." Well at 0600 I was wide awake and so were the cats..being extra obnoxious. Does this mean I'm getting old, when I can't stay asleep? I read emails and junk for a couple of hours and then went back to sleep until 1pm though. What the heck? I really need to exercise again. That'd probably help get me back on track. I think the longer I'm a nurse the more immune I am from the effects of coffee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work has been surprisingly better the last few months. I like my co-workers and that helps a lot. Of course, some days I think they are trying to kill me with the patient loads. And I must have been super clear that I have no desire for extra responsibility outside of the 3 12's cause they keep promoting newer employees. I think if nursing were my thing I'd feel differently, but I can only give my 100%...well 99% maybe (coffee and skeleton decorating take up 1% of my time) for 3 days. Anything more than that is torture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My goal would be to devote my other 4 days off to working on what I actually like: writing. And for awhile I was doing good with that. However, I get friends calling me up always wanting to do something. And I'd feel a little guilty and lame if I were like "no, I gotta do some amateur writing today. sorry." And then I'm not sure how or why keeping 500 sq feet clean is so tricky. Maybe I should only have one plate, one fork, one spoon, etc. It would sure cut down on dishes. It is a cruel thing not to have a dishwasher btw. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else is new? I think I've determined that for a long time I've overcomplicated or over thought what it means to serve God. I keep getting this drilled into my head as of late. It's not about going off and doing some huge thing, or becoming a super awesome speaker, or whatever religious image one could think of to represent a perfect Christian. And I think the term perfect Christian might be an oxymoron. It's just about getting filled up with HIM and sharing his love with the person in front of you that needs Him. It's about getting over yourself and being willing to submit and do something or open your mouth at any given time. Why do we make it so hard? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there are days where I feel like I have no idea what to say to someone. There are so many hurting people and I know God can help them, but I don't want to misrepresent so I end up saying nothing. Yeesh. How terrible is this? Or when it comes to writing I feel like there is some trap that Christian writers (including myself) fall into where the Truth gets replaced with some mealy mouth religious blah blah blah that is so bland and lacking zest. Most of the "Christian programming" I've ever seen is terrible and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. When I listen to classic composers who used their music to glorify such an awesome God I wonder why he can't be glorified with our contemporary arts. Why does satan get all the good stuff on TV?! And why do the Christian characters always turn out to be religious nut job serial killers? Is it impossible for the power of such a Sovereign God to be portrayed in the arts? I just don't know. I've seen some cool Jesus stuff in theatre. Maybe I should start writing plays. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh my. Well Jesus Help and goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-9039766812130005330?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/9039766812130005330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=9039766812130005330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/9039766812130005330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/9039766812130005330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2011/02/monday-musings.html' title='Monday Musings'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-5574158824358644317</id><published>2010-11-12T18:37:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T14:11:52.478-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>While watching "The Accidental Tourist" I had a sudden thought that the book might be more enjoyable than the film (as interesting as the film is). This got me thinking about reading in general. And more importantly it made me think about my not so recent aversion to reading. When did it happen and why? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the idea of a good book. I like to hold a real book and maybe even secretly enjoy that gross old book smell. As a child I spent a great deal of time reading. I loved being able to go on an adventure without leaving the couch. And I could relish the delight of knowing that some bits of wisdom written down by an author ages ago still rang true today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure what happened but I sort of dread reading now. I usually only have the time and patience for non-fiction that I might find useful in my life. I really can't think of the last fiction I read. I don't know when this happened. Am I lazy? Did college leave me no room for any more reading? Have I given over to easy entertainment in the form of television and movies? I don't think so. If there was anything I used to do more than read, it was watch TV. And I can hardly tolerate that now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the high-speed life we live now. After all the last book I purchased was bought with a few swipes and is easily read on my iphone. That old book smell has been replaced with the little swiper page.  I will admit that does give me a little thrill. And at the same time I feel almost sad to think that i no longer enjoy sitting quietly with a real live book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I keep meeting people in my real life and have seen a lot interviews about writers or actors who "LOVE TO READ." And it leaves me feeling a bit lacking. Why? Do I feel dumb because I don't pick a book up every night before bed? Maybe. To be honest the stuff most people read these days seems like it might make them dumber. Don't get me started on those vampires.  Does reading increase your imagination? I don't know. It seems like it might tie you down more. Who knows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I appreciate imagination I can't help but feel these days it's more helpful to be in touch with "real life." And yet real life is often so horrid that maybe a simple escape would do us good. Or how about the innovators of the past. Without imagination they would not have dared even dream up some of the things that helped make real life easier. So basically I've got no good conclusions on the subject. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think though, I'll give myself some slack. Sure I don't care what the latest vampire book says, but I don't think I ever did. And I don't think I'll be losing any of my imagination. I can still play pretend with the best of any 5 year olds. And while I might not sit down every night with so and so's memoirs I think I might try to etch a little more time in my life for a quality read. I think if we are not carful then sometimes the facebooks, twitters, and iphones can make life too cluttered. Maybe it is important to have that time to sit and muse on other people's words. They may not be right, but at least you've given yourself time draw a conclusion about it and not just ingested it without a thought. After all these musings,  I think I may have talked myself into at least thinking about reading more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-5574158824358644317?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/5574158824358644317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=5574158824358644317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/5574158824358644317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/5574158824358644317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2010/11/while-watching-accidental-tourist-i-had.html' title=''/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-6995711153234404187</id><published>2010-10-22T15:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T15:58:05.194-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This hole is deeper than I thought</title><content type='html'>I suppose naivete is nice thing really. When you have little to no idea what's ahead of you there are much less worries (besides the fact that your cockiness is probably unbearable to those around you...but you're so awesome that you are oblivious to their glares). Sometimes the know-all is so clueless that they try things no one else would dare fathom. Of course there's the 90% chance that reality will probably shoot them down in it's good time. At least I think that's my pessimistic view of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Being an occasional know-it-all myself, I find it hard sometimes to imagine that there could be something I haven't thought of yet. HAHAHAHAH. Of course my know-it-all self also knows that I can't possibly know it all. So that keeps me in check most of the time. Except today when I was reading other writers' thoughts on writing. It was terribly interesting but it made me see there's lots more work to be done. Apparently one semester on film writing doesn't make you an expert, but apparently 5+ seasons of show writing doesn't either (eh hem....BONES!).  Somehow I feel like I've just walked through the woods for hours only to come to a clearing where I can now see the rest of my hike looming over me. I suppose the only upside to my realization that I have only an iota of a clue about writing is that instead of being turned off by the mountain that lay ahead of me I'm sort of energized to see what I can see. I was never good at sprinting anyways. I do much better with pacing myself for the long haul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-6995711153234404187?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/6995711153234404187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=6995711153234404187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/6995711153234404187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/6995711153234404187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2010/10/this-hole-is-deeper-than-i-thought.html' title='This hole is deeper than I thought'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-396082129402654370</id><published>2010-09-30T10:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T10:38:19.221-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i think i just ordered a coffee coffee coffee</title><content type='html'>I can't be sure but I think I just ordered a $5 drink that tastes pretty weird. I added an extra shot of coffee cause I just cannot wake up. But when the guy called out my order as being ready he said something about a triple something or another. So now i'm kinda confused and I know well and good that if i asked they'd make me a new one, but I just hate being that person that complains. So I'm just gonna go add some sugar and have a lovely lunch time with my friend who just arrived.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-396082129402654370?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/396082129402654370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=396082129402654370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/396082129402654370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/396082129402654370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-think-i-just-ordered-coffee-coffee.html' title='i think i just ordered a coffee coffee coffee'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-8904164087397094491</id><published>2010-09-01T08:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T09:15:58.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let me Know the Stuff I Know</title><content type='html'>So I've been told I need to blog some more and I figure in this case it's okay to give into peer pressure, especially since the person asking is so delightful. So this is for April. hahah. And in her honor, I am of course at Starbucks with my soy pumpkin spice latte and listening to music on my iPhone. All of this reminds me of Miss April. The only thing that would make this setup more perfect would be to listen to some M. Ward (but Jenny Lewis's new album will have to do). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like a century has gone by since my last blog (in time and experiences I've had) so my choices to blog on are numerous. I think I'll just shoot the breeze and see what comes out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly I feel like God has been showing me some good stuff and even though some of it has been like pulling teeth (on my part. cause I'm sorta dense at times). The more I know, I just wish I could know the stuff I know. It's one thing to know you have groceries in the kitchen, but you need to know WHAT groceries you have if you want to be able to make a meal. Or the other day I was reading an old journal from high school. I'd written something there about how if you look at the world, you'll become like the world. If you keep your eyes on God you'll become more like him. Simple enough, but it took me until a few months ago to really know that statement and not just know of it. And honestly, I think I might spend life getting to know it more fully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see, let's see. WRITING! The more I toy with the idea of writing, the more I can see myself doing it. Some days I wake up excited and can't hurry enough to work on my project. Logically, I would dismiss the idea of me as writer, right away cause it's not practical. But I've never jumped out of bed with excitement to go be a nurse. I'll talk some about writing below. You can stop reading here if such things bore you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of late, I've been trying my hand at a screenplay about a missionary. I am realizing what my teacher said was true: Writing is not just an art, but a discipline. It's one thing to have a good idea, but to sit down and hack it out to something decent is just work work work. Unfortunately my personality is just a tad bit flighty. I can be cleaning my room, walk into the kitchen to throw something away, get distracted by a dish there, and completely abandon my room. The good news is (I think) that self-discipline is...well...a discipline.  So maybe there's hope for me. Starbucks helps. Not really, but it's a mind game. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been told that to be a writer means to just sit down and write something everyday. Whoever said it, didn't work 12 hour nursing shifts. I guess I generally agree with the statement though. Some days I've sat for hours thinking only to change my characters name. I'm not sure that is a very productive day, but I just couldn't go on with the story until I knew her name. Thankfully I'm about to start some treatments and there won't be room for such frivolous details. I say treatments (essentially and outline of plot)because I cannot decide on a setting and I feel like I need to bust out some treatments for the various locations I am thinking of for the film I want to write before I can choose. I just need to commit to an idea and go for it instead of being held back by fear or whatever it is. I guess wish me luck. I'm gonna go start that now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-8904164087397094491?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/8904164087397094491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=8904164087397094491' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/8904164087397094491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/8904164087397094491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2010/09/let-me-know-stuff-i-know.html' title='Let me Know the Stuff I Know'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-3650423942672222310</id><published>2010-01-04T17:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T17:52:10.442-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2010</title><content type='html'>Well I made it to the future. Ha. Well it still seems like the future. I'm kind of bummed there are no flying cars. All in All I'm excited about 2010. Living in my fun new apartment (me and the cat) is delightful and it makes me feel like life is happening and I must savor every bit. And there is just something about checking the mail when the mailbox is attached to your house (oh, who am I kidding, I love checking the mail in all types of places).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't usually make many resolutions. I would like to refocus on some goals though. It is hard to live for today sometimes. I think that's what God intended us to do though. So that is basically my goal. Listen to the Holy Spirit, be led by the Holy Spirit. Get my daily bread from the Lord. Don't get caught up in worrying and fretting about tomorrow. And if a day turns out bad,I just need to abide in Him...and just be a little like Scarlett O'Hara: "Tomorrow is another day!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-3650423942672222310?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/3650423942672222310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=3650423942672222310' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/3650423942672222310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/3650423942672222310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2010/01/2010.html' title='2010'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-3972572527975591309</id><published>2009-02-04T10:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T11:46:54.568-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i wish the west wing were still on</title><content type='html'>Boy, it's been awhile since I posted to this blog. Perhaps, it's because I've been forcing myself to blog daily during the year of 2009. I decided that a daily blog would make me accountable to life. I don't know that's it working, but I hope that by talking about my days I will not let them slip by. I'm afraid I might turn into someone recording their experiences on camera instead of actual experiencing them. So, basically my multiple blogging has distracted me fromm the others I usually do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh life. life, life, life. I've been learning a lot about life...well specifically God's life-giving spirit. It's cool. I think the purpose of receiving God's spirit and then sharing it with others, sure makes things simple. And I like simplicity. And I'm pretty sure I finally figured out my actual gifting, among my million hobbies. This is pretty fantastic. I was always a bit jealous of those people who were awesome at one thing since birth. They had no doubt in their minds, they just had one thing to do, and could do it well. I on the other hand run the gamet when it comes to hobbies and interests...so much so that my time is never focused on one. This makes me good at nothing. So now that I'm pretty sure God showed me my gifting is somewhere in writing or storytelling. And I feel a little bit giddy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weirder part (and for those non-believers out there...you might think I'm a nut starting about now) is that I suddenly realize that is the area that satan will of course try and rob me. It only makes since that if God's plan is for me to glorify him and to set others free through my writing that Satan would hate this the most. I discoverd this because the other day I had the freakiest dream. Right as I fell asleep I was suddenly dreaming of myself lying in bed in my room. Only my room was not quite the same. The furniture was rearranged slightly. The lighting seem to be that of candles...sort of a dark glow. In the air, I could hear music. It was sort of old fashioned music someone might play on an upright piano in a western or something. Only, it was being played on the toy piano I actually have in my room in real life. And the scariest part was that someone was gagging me, or sitting on my chest so that I had no air in my lungs to be able to speak. I became more aware of my muteness and tried to scream. I could not. This is when panic set in and I tried to wake up. I was not only mute, but paralyzed. Finally I guess I was able to make a groan in the physical because my mom heard and came in to check on me. This is not my first nightmare, so she was quick to the rescue. Thank goodness. Thinking back, I've had these reoccuring dreams of being mute. This is very interesting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So lots of lessons learned lately. What else? Soon I will be on days. Still at my old job. It seems the job I hoped for was already filled. I'll keep on keepin on. Still looking regularly for something better. I hope that days will return me to my former human..and less zombie-like self. I get to go to NYC soon. So that should be fun. Started some guitar lessons...hoping these will make me a less sloppy player and get me over my plateau. I've only been to one, but I expect the lessons will do just that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I suppose I should mention my title. I do wish the West Wing was still on. I've been watching a marathon with my mom starting from season 1. She used to give me heck about liking the show and now she likes it too. My brother even snuck in a disc according to my mom. The writing is awesome. Some people dislike the idealism and mistake it for preaching. Okay, maybe there is a bit of preaching. I don't care though, I think that's what a good piece of art does. It is not stuck in reality, but can inspire you to better things. I'm not a big fan of politics. I'm sort of a more "pay Ceasar what you owe him" and "trust in God, not man" kinda gal, but I do love that show. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep finding myself wishing for more seasons. I love the characters. The actors were great. I've been youtubing and googling everyone to see what they are up to. Allison Janney rocks any screen she shows up on. Poor Bradley Whitford lost out when Studio 60 was cancelled. Janel Moloney apparently moved to NY to do theatre. I have no idea what Martin Sheen is doing. And I wish there was just more Richard Schiff in the entertainment world. Of course that's not all of them, but I do miss the quality that show had. Don't get me wrong, I love my show Bones, but it's not like the West Wing. They are just different genres really. Sure, they both fall under television drama...but there's just no comparison.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-3972572527975591309?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/3972572527975591309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=3972572527975591309' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/3972572527975591309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/3972572527975591309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-wish-west-wing-were-still-on.html' title='i wish the west wing were still on'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-8927248862950835120</id><published>2008-11-24T05:21:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T06:25:56.456-05:00</updated><title type='text'>There is a season...</title><content type='html'>Turn Turn Turn...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sAtbVuf-YCU/SHGDb32SlLI/AAAAAAAADbk/vTyyG2lKVxU/s400/May+08+234.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sAtbVuf-YCU/SHGDb32SlLI/AAAAAAAADbk/vTyyG2lKVxU/s400/May+08+234.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am again. Since I'm awake and feeling like I'm on waiting on the horizon for the sun to rise what better to do than to blog? And for the record I dislike the term blog. It's so bloggy and not at all eloquent. I prefer something like "shoot the breeze," journal, or simply run at the mouth (or my fingers really). This is not what I've come here to talk about though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, per usual my job still drives me nuts. With each day I go there I feel I'm losing a part of myself and replacing it with a bitter morsel of dispair or even enmity. And the more I complain about it the bigger the hypocrite I feel. I must put my feet where my mouth is. And if there is one thing nurses have the freedom to do it is walk out the door and find another place that needs us just as much. Granted that my current type of nursing is not my cup of tea. In fact most of the current healthcare...scratch that. Most of our current state of health in America is not my cup of tea! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you might ask, what would you do about it then? Well, that is exactly what I harp on about on a regular basis (or enough to be known around my circles as a health nut): health promotion. Yes...encourage humans to live to their fullest instead of being slaves to consumerism, inactivity, diseases of affluence, and otherwise zombie-like existences. &lt;br /&gt;[insert ad for Wall-E here...is this really too far off?]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://defamer.com/assets/images/defamer/2008/06/walle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 256px;" src="http://defamer.com/assets/images/defamer/2008/06/walle.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://weblogs.sun-sentinel.com/features/health/theskinny/blog/walle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 600px; height: 251px;" src="http://weblogs.sun-sentinel.com/features/health/theskinny/blog/walle.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sooooooooo...i've been walking around saying i want to do something like health promotion...and then i would usually say "yes, but i can't afford to work at the health department." or "the job i want doesn't exist. no one cares about preventing disease in the first place. they would rather just treat it once it's too late."&lt;br /&gt;but after my job ticked me off for the last time i came home in search of another one. and what to my wondering eyes should appear? but a job posting entitled "health promotion representative". i was so excited about the job description i jumped right into editing my resume instead of sleeping. and you don't know how much i usually detest resumes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so basically, I'm hoping to be hired based soley on my enthuasism for the subject. haha. no really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the meantime i'm still on a vegan kick. which is really not a kick at all, but just a new way of living. and i find this has led me into the world of organic foods..which has led  me back to the idea of gardening...which has led me to be firmly stuck on the idea of organic gardening...which puts all sorts of ideas and dreams into my head about healthy food, poor people, fully enriched lives, happiness, and bluebirds, and all that other crap that will get you thrown into the freak category. and this does not even take into account that i'm a christian or the music i listen to (which i'm told counts as "hippie-catterwalling"). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://biblescripture.net/Lions.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 636px; height: 480px;" src="http://biblescripture.net/Lions.jpeg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mwardmusic.com/standard/images/albums/lewiscover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 504px; height: 504px;" src="http://www.mwardmusic.com/standard/images/albums/lewiscover.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://media.prefixmag.com/site_media/uploads/images/features/l/lavender-diamond/500x333_12877580Lavender-Diamond.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 333px;" src="http://media.prefixmag.com/site_media/uploads/images/features/l/lavender-diamond/500x333_12877580Lavender-Diamond.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mwardmusic.com/standard/images/albums/postwar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 116px; height: 116px;" src="http://www.mwardmusic.com/standard/images/albums/postwar.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.indiequick.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/20080228_she__him_33.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 599px; height: 450px;" src="http://www.indiequick.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/20080228_she__him_33.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all these changes and the thinking i've done lately has led me to the conclusion that i need not have this thick skin or toughness i've been wishing for all this time. Instead i believe that being myself might just lead me out of the wrong paths and onto the ones that actually enrich my life. so yes...i can still be a kid...but only in the sense that maybe as a child i was the real me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6JBqQ5WXeAE/SSqOfIzsNrI/AAAAAAAAAAs/vhn10eEaGDo/s1600-h/jenn+at+ma+and+pa%27s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6JBqQ5WXeAE/SSqOfIzsNrI/AAAAAAAAAAs/vhn10eEaGDo/s400/jenn+at+ma+and+pa%27s.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272182979381966514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-8927248862950835120?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/8927248862950835120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=8927248862950835120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/8927248862950835120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/8927248862950835120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2008/11/there-is-season.html' title='There is a season...'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sAtbVuf-YCU/SHGDb32SlLI/AAAAAAAADbk/vTyyG2lKVxU/s72-c/May+08+234.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017488.post-2247475836820087832</id><published>2008-07-24T18:01:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T18:25:48.058-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I just be a toys R kid?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://paulmejias.adlio.net/images/toys-r-us-giraffe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://paulmejias.adlio.net/images/toys-r-us-giraffe.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I admit it. I've decided I don't want to grow up. It might be too late for that though. You know what is so annoying to discover: i'm not tough at all. I used to picture myself like a tough little cookie...like V.I Warshawski or Cate Blanchett's characters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.aspenfilm.org/images/upload/AS01_CHARLOTTEGRAY.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.aspenfilm.org/images/upload/AS01_CHARLOTTEGRAY.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now after all these years I discover I'm not the least bit tough. ugh. It might just be that I'm overly stressed now, but I think it might be true. I'm really like those annoying characters in movies that you want to slap and tell them to git a grip. What has brought me to this realization? Just the little things that come with being a grown up I guess. Good and Bad things...doesn't matter, i just want to stay an immature kid i think.  let me think on the last few months:&lt;br /&gt;-ugh, i turned a quarter of century old. &lt;br /&gt;-just bought a new car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://images.mazdausa.com/MusaWeb/images/vehicles/nonflash/M3H/pho_main_M3H_color_metro_gray.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://images.mazdausa.com/MusaWeb/images/vehicles/nonflash/M3H/pho_main_M3H_color_metro_gray.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-took 3 vacations which is a bit luxurious and yet somehow not completely satisfying&lt;br /&gt;-found a primary care physician? lame.&lt;br /&gt;-i'm vegan now. weird.&lt;br /&gt;-i'm responsible for the lives of others on a regular basis.&lt;br /&gt;-and now i've had my first patient die. this sucks beyond belief. despite all the interventions they are still gone. what the heck?&lt;br /&gt;-i have a car payment to go with the pretty new car.&lt;br /&gt;-i review my credit report. you know as a kid you don't even have one...so carefree.&lt;br /&gt;-now when i go to weddings people expect that i must want to be in my own. &lt;br /&gt;-i get a bit of road rage when people tailgate me. &lt;br /&gt;-my brain is so full of information i've become senile...that or i'm dehydrated and hungry and therefore cannot think. which ever...you know this never happens to kids. they always have something clever to say.&lt;br /&gt;-i work in a job i don't like and yet cannot bring myself to quit...did i mention new car payment?&lt;br /&gt;-i'm responsible for making sure other people get fed...okay it's the cats and dogs..but still.&lt;br /&gt;-i can't just lean on the faith of my mother...i've got to have my own. hmmm.&lt;br /&gt;-they say gas prices are high. i've not thought a lot about it...but i'm sure it's bad for me;D&lt;br /&gt;-i'm not in the military...so i'm stuck with all the responsibilty of my life...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-2247475836820087832?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/2247475836820087832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=2247475836820087832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/2247475836820087832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/2247475836820087832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2008/07/can-i-just-be-toys-r-kid.html' title='Can I just be a toys R kid?'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-5276432758476674306</id><published>2008-01-13T23:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T00:06:05.584-05:00</updated><title type='text'>crazy cat lady</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.globalgallery.com/prod_images/bm-s713.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.globalgallery.com/prod_images/bm-s713.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; this image makes me feel better about myself. i swear. less like a cat lady and more like some freaky disney character that attracts nature. hahaha. plus that black cat looks just like mine! okay enough. i only have one cat of my own. can i help it that people can't think of anyone else to watch their animals?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmmm. it's 2008. yea? i'm totally not focused on my own life, but these writers'. i have no ties to the WGA and yet i can think of nothing else than this darned writers strike. i swear i'd go stand in my driveway with a picket sign if i had one. i do have my shirt. so yea for me. someone give me a cookie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and now i've really gone off my rocker. besides slaving away at work (and occassionally having emotional outbreaks in front of my coworkers...so embarrasing. i think i need thicker skin. do they sell that at the gap?), going to the gym with a personal trainer and the whole shebang, getting massages, paying my ex gay boyfriend with food to give me piano lessons, and whatever else i've been doing....i now have taken up acting classes. what can i be thinking. and on top of it..auditioned for a talent agency (only b/c my acting coach pushed me into it). don't worry. i don't have any word yet either way. but what on earth could i be thinking? i'm a nurse, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now for a brief interlude. don't you miss those overtures in the middle of a film?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Wynk5cnxTfk&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Wynk5cnxTfk&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why don't they have those anymore?&lt;br /&gt;i've only seen a handful of film lately, but i did enjoy them all.&lt;br /&gt;juno: nice. nice.&lt;br /&gt;i'm not there: freakishly fun. cate blanchett are you for real. and who wants to be train hopping poor black child just like bob dylan? i do i do. if only people put more pies out in their windows...and there were less scary guys cutting people's heads off. darn them.&lt;br /&gt;enchanted: yes, i did. and i loved it! amy adams is totally awesome in those type roles. it's hilarious. i was even able to laugh at the roaches...while trying not to throw up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and all of them had fun soundtracks. i was so happy. i think the old people in the dylan movie thought i was blasphemis when i ran out of the theatre during the end credits' "Like a rolling stone." you don't understand though. i'd been holding for like an hour and a half. i figured it would be worse to walk out during the actual film. but it was amazing to see everyone else glued to the seat at the end of that. usually i'm the only one watching credits. okay. i'm done. nothing else to rattle on about....except how excited i am about the upcoming zooey deschanel album..and m ward. he's cool. ooh ooh and beirut....i just discovered this madness.i love it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-5276432758476674306?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/5276432758476674306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=5276432758476674306' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/5276432758476674306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/5276432758476674306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2008/01/crazy-cat-lady.html' title='crazy cat lady'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-4822564460802081190</id><published>2007-12-16T08:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T08:52:11.411-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby It's Cold, windy, rainy, and down right yucky outside: perfect time to sleep!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Well, I just got home from working the night shift....and more importantly: my llast shift with a preceptor tied to my hip. Yes, it occurred to me as I was leaving the hospital that next time I show up, I'm on my own. And with that realization a bout of nausea quickly entered my stomach...which was promptly surpressed by my steely nurse stomach of steel! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In all actuality I really don't think it will be much different then what i've been doing because I've basically doing all the work already for a long time now. It's just the idea that I no longer have that safety net (someone bugging me all the time and checking behind me) that freaks me out. I'm about to climb the ladder to the high wire for my first solo performance...and it's a bit freaky. But, the show must go on and the trapeze artist must not die. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did i mention i was tired? So there is no doubt this blog is sounding a bit nutty. I find around 4am I start to get a little punchy...which is good because when i'm laughing it's hard to be stressed. and that is a good thing. and it's going on 9 am and the wind is beating against my windows and i'm not sure why i'm not asleep. i guess i'll hit the hay for a few hours. merry christmas to all and to all a goodnight, no morning. what day is it again? &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://users.erols.com/igoddard/con35-02.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-4822564460802081190?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/4822564460802081190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=4822564460802081190' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/4822564460802081190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/4822564460802081190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2007/12/baby-its-cold-windy-rainy-and-down.html' title='Baby It&apos;s Cold, windy, rainy, and down right yucky outside: perfect time to sleep!'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-1947844969333464711</id><published>2007-05-29T22:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T10:14:31.482-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WAR, PEACE, STRANGERS, SPOILED, GUILT, SERVANT, GOD, SIMPLICITY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.alz.org/brain/images/02a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.alz.org/brain/images/02a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the spring of 2005 I saw the film "Hearts and Minds." I remember walking out of my film class speechless. I don't think I was able to bring any words to my lips until at least the next day. There were too many thoughts racing through my head: a combination of trying to process the historical events and then of course as many have pointed out it is impossible not to think of the present war. One of my memories from that film that stayed with me was of a girl who was interviewed back on the homefront about her thoughts on the war in Vietnam(probably because I am essentially that: an American girl in the midst of a war). I was horrified by her answer (or maybe secretly petrified to think that maybe I felt the same) that she would really just prefer to think about her own life and that it was not important to her. This scene was of course strategically juxtoposed against horrific war images and dying people on both sides...afterall the director had of course planned that I feel this way (just good filmmaking). And I a walked away from the film swearing that I would never be like that girl. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That was 5 years into the current war. And now that we have reached 7, I've returned my thoughts to that girl. I mean, maybe I shouldn't be so horrified by her comment. Afterall, what the bloody blazes would someone like her have done to change anything. What can I do, other than live my life? All the fighting in the world or all the protesting in the world couldn't have stopped that war and probably not this one. I'm starting to see that wars are left up to a few people. The rest of the world just reacts to the chaos. People just want to live their lives. And when they are stopped from doing that (by violence, by being called off to war, by attacks, by the feelings of injustice, by someone violating their human rights or those of someone they love, etc) they then have no reason to behave, no reason not to kill to try and achieve a sense of justice, no reason to not hate strangers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sure, I'm guaranteed a vote. And I do. But, the power of that vote is about as real as the right to freedom of speech.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what then? Why is that girl's comment so horrific to my person? Maybe, the idea that so many people suffer in the world and she is (or I am) free to live, what in comparison seems, a frivolous life. Isn't that the gist of all war films or am I the only one with this American guilt?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, I cannot judge this girl. If anyone looked at me they might see the same girl. But, the truth is that I do care, I want good things for my fellow man. But, that is easy to say before the spider ever comes down to bother you....while you're still sitting pretty on your tuffet...eating my curds and whey. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's another thought though...I don't believe people are good and maybe not so bad. But, under duress they are reduced to little children who will do whatever is needed to conserve self. But what about heroes who risk life and limb to save others....would it be too simple or rude to say that maybe they are either operating under alterior motives or maybe just crazy? No, I'm kidding. I'm not talking about people who choose to enter such circumstances by choice. I'm talking about people who for whatever reason are thrust into horrific things that seem very unjust. Like when someone kicks you for no apparent reason! Or how about when some a-hole cuts you off in traffic or decides to ride your bumper for 3 miles. If your anything like me you think something along the lines of: HOW DARE YOU, YOU [fill in the blank]!!! Then you precede to right the wrong or maybe if your like me ( a Christian) you avoid righting the wrong and maybe pray for some patience, compassion, etc. But, in the end we have to confront ourselves as the little hideous beasties that we are (unless you're still kidding yourself). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me go back and try another scenario when that stranger inflincts injustice on me (this time the girl in kindergarten who kicked me then preceded to tell the teacher that I kicked her...landing me with the note home to mother). What if I had righted that wrong and given her what she had already blamed me for...what if I kicked her bloomer-clad bum?! Well, then I would have violated her rights, I would have dashed any basic respect for her person. But, she would have got what was coming to her! Right? She would have "got got," in the words of a Hell's Angel circa 1970. What then? Maybe when those girls teased me in the 5th grade, I could have poisoned their lunches with a bit of laxative? Maybe, when that girl poured chocolate milk on my pants in the 7th grade I could have used a gun to rectify the situation. Maybe. But, I didn't. I think in all those situations I just sorta went on with my life (maybe I've not done a good job of forgetting...but I'd like to think that I'm pretty well forgiven on all accounts). And let me not sound like a saint...I did punch the crap out of that kid's nose in the fourth grade (forgotten why). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what is my bloody point? Not sure...afterall I'm not very good at those or writing. I think my point might lie along the lines of "turn the other cheek" or "love thy neighbor as thyself." I can't decide which I like better. But, I'm not gonna kid myself with dreams of peace and whatever. I think I just won't feel so guilty about being like that girl...I will concentrate on my life: thank God for the blessings that I do have, serve God, serve others. If I try to worry about the rest (the futile world of senseless things, fleeting actions, and empty words) I'd end up with an ulcer or a hole in my head. If there is anything I learned in my days of un-needed therapy it was that the only thing I can change or control is myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/9017488-1947844969333464711?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/1947844969333464711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=1947844969333464711' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/1947844969333464711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/1947844969333464711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2007/05/war-peace-strangers-spoiled-guilt.html' title='WAR, PEACE, STRANGERS, SPOILED, GUILT, SERVANT, GOD, SIMPLICITY'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-6527390664712089763</id><published>2007-04-30T21:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T22:02:24.375-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Well, I finally made it to the LAST day of school (and if you knew me you'd know just how fantastic that is)!&lt;a href="http://www.exquisitesafaris.com/images/journal/exquisite_safaris_philanthropic_travel_azama1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.exquisitesafaris.com/images/journal/exquisite_safaris_philanthropic_travel_azama1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought it would be more exciting...or maybe a little bitter sweet. No tears were shed and hardly any pictures taken. But I'm done...fini....no more! Whoo hooo. Okay, maybe not "no more" if I go back later...but still. Well, anyhoo. Nothing intelligent to say here because I'm pretty sure school has made my intellect useless. But, I'll get that magic paper in a couple weeks and I've got a interview lined up...so now I've just gotta go pray about what the heck I should do with my life:) Oh, and my trip to  California was fun...I saw Dennis Rodman (not the star-sighting I had in mind...but it'll do pig).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059422013389529186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6JBqQ5WXeAE/Rjatg-Tf4GI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ww5uxoZtJaE/s400/Photo_0142.jpg" border="0" /&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/9017488-6527390664712089763?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/6527390664712089763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=6527390664712089763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/6527390664712089763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/6527390664712089763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2007/04/im-freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.html' title='I&apos;m Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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/_6JBqQ5WXeAE/Rjatg-Tf4GI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ww5uxoZtJaE/s72-c/Photo_0142.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9017488.post-6800128294268149980</id><published>2007-03-28T00:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T00:20:53.822-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.furryfriendfashions.com/kitty%20is%20tired.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.furryfriendfashions.com/kitty%20is%20tired.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know how this little guy feels. I feel like I'm gonna be sprinting until graduation. Luckily I've built in a nice trip to California for myself (a nursing convention so it is completely school related...lol...oh who am I kidding it is soo gonna be vacation too). Then I found out my big project is due about 2 weeks earlier than I thought. So guess who's gonna be putting in 6 hours a week on that...unless I get an extension [insert prayer to God...please God let her give me an extension]. And now my mither is coming down...so that is gonna make things more interesting I'm sure. And sadly, I still have not even done my resume...so what is the point of all this if I don't have a job when I'm done. better get that and my applications done stat. where does the time go? today, i referred to something that happened at the beginning of my shift (~3pm) as "this morning"!!!! crazy. with the grace of God (and maybe a little redbull) i'll get there. can you people stop having life problems til i get done with school, please? lol. where's my mulivitamin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.furryfriendfashions.com/kitty%20is%20tired.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-6800128294268149980?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/6800128294268149980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=6800128294268149980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/6800128294268149980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/6800128294268149980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-know-how-this-little-guy-feels.html' title=''/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-2802519780487615705</id><published>2007-03-03T12:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T06:37:13.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>j.o.b.'s</title><content type='html'>"speaking of your j.o.b. mulder...."&lt;br /&gt;as you can see i just got my $10 copy of season 6 of the x-files. i knew if i held out i wouldn't &lt;a href="http://www.opgavebank.dk/img/editors/Mulder%20og%20Scully.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.opgavebank.dk/img/editors/Mulder%20og%20Scully.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;have to pay that ridiculous $100. of course, i am about 10 years behind or something like that...but hey.&lt;br /&gt;i've been thinking about this thing: fan obsession&lt;br /&gt;what exactly is the point of obsessing over famous people? i am guilty on many charges (the victims are pictured throughout this blog), but i still can't figure out why i do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://tvmedia.ign.com/tv/image/article/793/793242/bones-20070531052148483.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://tvmedia.ign.com/tv/image/article/793/793242/bones-20070531052148483.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am for the most part a perfectly sane person (uber healthy in the mental health department) so I know that in the scheme of life...these people, their work, etc. are all very fleeting. just like the rest of us: here today, gone tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and lately when i watch award shows (as i have done since i was like 10) i can't help thinking: what is the bloody point? sometimes it's like they are just giving the award to someone b/c...well, they have to give it to somebody. half the time i think they just chose the nominees b/c they were the only ones around. the best example of this is the animated feature film. some of these are real crap...but hey, they are the only ones that year, so by all means let's nominate them. bleh. this year i think most of them deserved recognition though. but, i diverge from my point: all in all the awards don't mean anything at all (except maybe for the actor who gets more parts the next year...til he is forgotten for the new winners). and the funniest part is how serious people take them...as though all of life depends on receiving a gold piece of hardware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, why then? there must be something good or at least a reasonable answer for why&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;I and thousands of others fawn over these people! b/c they seem like cool people? DOUBTFUL...i feel sorry for a lot of the poor shmoes and most are boring (except zooey....you have to admit she is so cool).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://index.hu/cikkepek/0510/kult/.gdata/a1_s01e09_075.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://index.hu/cikkepek/0510/kult/.gdata/a1_s01e09_075.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.girlskickbutt.com/images/girls/zooey_deschanel/zooey_deschanel_020.jpg" border="0" /&gt; good role models then? well...that's a big NO...for the same reason i just mentioned. why then?!!!! i will attempt to describe my theory, based on my recent return to obsessing over gillian anderson:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when I watch a performance by someone like GA, I can't help but think that what she is doing surpasses plain ol' entertainment. in her performances you can see that she is totally there. she is the character. and in those moments she is somehow giving us a truth...we are peering in on her soul. this does not have to take place during a dramatic scene (even though Gillian is really good at those). actors can show us anything from pure joy to unimaginable heartbreak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.billyates.com/navarro/images/reviewimages/thekid.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.billyates.com/navarro/images/reviewimages/thekid.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; [nothing like jackie coogan in Chaplin's the Kid]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now you might think..well all that is in the writing. and i would agree that a lot of it is. but it is up to the actor to make us believe it...to reveal that character's truths and inner self. all this sounds crazy. but it has to be true. just consider the x-files. on paper scully is steely fbi agent who' partner is completely crazy. she has been abducted and beaten to pulp many a time. and on top of that, they want us to believe that she is still a regular gal who desires marriage and babies (even alien/human hybrid ones, if that is all she can get).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now put Gillian Anderson in the part and you get about a billion gallons of subtext that somehow make all this pefectly reasonable. and on top of that she can make sure that you're heart is as broken as the character's with one look. and she did it for 9 years! that is pretty darned good. and if that weren't enough she went and did all those little (some not so little) parts in things like Bleak House, House of Mirth, Mighty Celt, The Mighty, Playing by Heart....you get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://xfphotos.fredfarm.com/season5/allsouls/x-files-428.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://xfphotos.fredfarm.com/season5/allsouls/x-files-428.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, what was my point?! well, just this: when an actor is vulnerable enough to give us the truths of life (joy, sorrow, love, mad-crazy anger, or humor...which is really a more complex thing, but i'll list it anyways) i think it triggers a little alarm in those watching. and i think it is those qualities in these people that makes us cling to them. Or... maybe it is just that they are hot:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.christopherreeve.org/atf/cf/%7B219882E9-DFFF-4CC0-95EE-3A62423C40EC%7D/DavidBoreanaz2.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Okay maybe it is too complex to be figured out in a blog. you know i originally started this, intending to write about the fact that i will soon be a working stiff and that i need to spruce up my resume. oh well. did i mention i'm very obsessive? let the madness continue, but remember that real life is out there somewhere (kinda like the truth):)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-2802519780487615705?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/2802519780487615705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=2802519780487615705' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/2802519780487615705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/2802519780487615705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2007/03/jobs.html' title='j.o.b.&apos;s'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-116943883835882019</id><published>2007-01-21T22:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T23:35:18.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>figlets</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bestuff.com/images/images_of_stuff/210x600/booth-and-brennan-71498.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bestuff.com/images/images_of_stuff/210x600/booth-and-brennan-71498.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://images.google.com/images?q=tbn:5re_gFR7RqRI6M:http://ist-socrates.berkeley.edu/~brandley/courses/ib131l/histo/cartandbone/pictures/osteon.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new favorite show!&lt;br /&gt;well it's been a bloody long time since i updated this thing...i think they even changed the name to blogger. well why would you use blogger, when you have myspace? ahhh....i'll continue anyways b/c lets face it: i like the sound of my own keys clickity clacking....and i should b/c it's not very likely that anyone reads this. figlets: what's the difference between a figlet and a fig? is that like the fruit version of veal/cow? should i feel bad about eating them? is it just a pretentious name that enables the company to jack up the prices? well i and my cat enjoy eating them anyways. boy life changes in a year doesn't it? how many questions can i ask myself in one blog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why am i always on this thing when i should be doing something important instead?&lt;br /&gt;why have i developed such a nasty ellipses habit...lazy i suppose. awww look at that: my brothers cat has finally learned to like my cat. why do people hate cats so much? i've got to stop or i'll have to commit myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-116943883835882019?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/116943883835882019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=116943883835882019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/116943883835882019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/116943883835882019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2007/01/figlets.html' title='figlets'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-113652449143497836</id><published>2006-01-06T00:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T00:14:51.466-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ER</title><content type='html'>"If not now" has just ranked number one on my favorite episodes of ER (and maybe all shows).  The combination of Luka/Abby, Maura Tierney and Goran Visnjic's acting, and Damien Rice equals perfection in my book. I think this might even make up for the terrible episodes where Lucy is stabbed to death by Paul Subricky, which caused me many years of shock and suffering (And it is just a TV show...yeah right...did i just say that?).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a day out of the twilight zone but really good at the same time. I am sore from clinching all my muscles to stay warm while painting outside all day, but I feel good. And even though it was kinda a waste of a day I am happy to find I did not get salmonella from that chicken.  I might be a bit nutty from the nutty bar I ate though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-113652449143497836?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/113652449143497836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=113652449143497836' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/113652449143497836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/113652449143497836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2006/01/er.html' title='ER'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-113591789606002395</id><published>2005-12-29T23:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T23:44:56.083-05:00</updated><title type='text'>like a pink nightmare</title><content type='html'>My feet are fully satisfied because not only did they get one, but TWO pairs of slippers to &lt;em&gt;slip?&lt;/em&gt; around in.  my cat has an infected sore in his ear that is all smelly and filled with pus. excellent. i feel bad because i gave him a bath just thinking he smelled like crap, only to discover he still smelled like crap..well his ear did. then i discoverd the pus. sorry Noel. yes he is french. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess it is a miracle i did not snap and go on a killing rampage over the holidays. life is just not that bad i guess. i was worried for a minute there. i had plans about large boluses of potassium and the crazies i'm related to. but they are all over now. i think.  boy if this darned blog weren't enough to have me commited already, i go and write that last paragraph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my pink fuzzy slippers are grand i must say.  i wonder if i will be able to make it through the upcoming semester. i feel like a train that is running out steam. i don't know how much more i can take before i roll back down the hill. if those darned cows would just get off my track!  yeah that made little or no sense...but why start now?  well i believe i have done too much thinking already. as forest says ...well i can't think of anything he says that would apply to this moment. so i think i will go to bed now or maybe Go back to GREENBOW ALABAMA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-113591789606002395?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/113591789606002395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=113591789606002395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/113591789606002395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/113591789606002395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2005/12/like-pink-nightmare.html' title='like a pink nightmare'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-113435461905006644</id><published>2005-12-11T21:24:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T06:28:45.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Rogers</title><content type='html'>Well it was a beautiful day in the neighborhood.  Too bad I didn't really get to go out and enjoy it because I have been trying to write dumb papers and not study.  But my dad did wash my car...which is so unexpected by the way...but much appreciated.  I also got to hang out with my friends.  If procrastinating were a paid skill I'd be rollin in it!  Yeah, so i still have two finals tommorow and the dumb papers which i still havent finished are due.  I plan to be in bed by midnight though...i know what i know...no sense cramming other crap in at the last minute. maybe i'm too confident from the grade i made in the other class or im just stupid. either way, i'll be getting a good nights rest.  a healthy breakfast is not very likely though. why i am i on here if i still have crap to do...got me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-113435461905006644?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/113435461905006644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=113435461905006644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/113435461905006644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/113435461905006644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2005/12/mr-rogers.html' title='Mr. Rogers'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-113407716839472690</id><published>2005-12-08T16:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T16:26:08.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmastime in the cold rainy traffic-ee full of yankees did i mention smoggy when its hot city</title><content type='html'>Everyone around me is crazy. It took me 22 years and something like 5 months to figure this out.  Now that we have that settled: the phone is ringing...NO i was gonna say something about how great nursing school is, but that is boring. Had a final today and I don't want to jinx myself by saying I did well. Plus I still have a couple more and 5 essays to write by monday.  At least I don't have to watch that crap a** movie Lost in Translation though...but I did rent it so maybe i should just watch it. Well whatever. I wonder why Maura Tierney doesn't get better roles outside of television or awards for that matter. I think she is probably one of the best if not the best actresses ever (her and cate blanchett could have a battle). Her acting is so subtle that people don't notice how great she is.  She does not have to have a brilliant part with overly dramatic scenes to be great. She could have a horribly written scene and still make it interesting just with a reaction shot. Brilliant. End of Rant.  I saw Rent...it was okay, i've seen better adaptations of musicals to screen.  I think what i just did with the association of words there might be a crazy factor. oh well, at least i noticed it. i would be great at improv.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-113407716839472690?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/113407716839472690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=113407716839472690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/113407716839472690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/113407716839472690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2005/12/christmastime-in-cold-rainy-traffic-ee.html' title='Christmastime in the cold rainy traffic-ee full of yankees did i mention smoggy when its hot city'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-112701602654354351</id><published>2005-09-17T22:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-17T23:00:26.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>funny ha-ha</title><content type='html'>Raven: So, what's going on with you two? &lt;br /&gt;Chelsea, Eddie: Nothing. &lt;br /&gt;Raven: Oh? 'Cause lately it kinda seemed like something &lt;br /&gt;Chelsea: Well, sometimes nothing can seem like something... &lt;br /&gt;Raven: And sometimes something can be something. &lt;br /&gt;Eddie: Unless it's nothing. &lt;br /&gt;Raven: Nothing yet or nothing at all because if it's nothing at all we can do it to-geth-er. &lt;br /&gt;Eddie: Can't. &lt;br /&gt;Raven: Why not? &lt;br /&gt;Chelsea: Because if three people do nothing, then it kinda becomes something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-112701602654354351?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/112701602654354351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=112701602654354351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/112701602654354351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/112701602654354351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2005/09/funny-ha-ha.html' title='funny ha-ha'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-112700736935736340</id><published>2005-09-17T20:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-17T20:36:09.363-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nursing School</title><content type='html'>I like God's watch...perfect timing for everything.  Can you explode from being too happy?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-112700736935736340?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/112700736935736340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=112700736935736340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/112700736935736340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/112700736935736340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2005/09/nursing-school.html' title='Nursing School'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-111950882908276893</id><published>2005-06-23T01:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-23T01:45:52.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'>free ipod!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.freeiPods.com/?r=19644416"&gt;http://www.freeiPods.com/?r=19644416&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-111950882908276893?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/111950882908276893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=111950882908276893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/111950882908276893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/111950882908276893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2005/06/free-ipod.html' title='free ipod!'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-109971298784462842</id><published>2004-11-05T22:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-11-05T22:49:47.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Incredibles</title><content type='html'>I just saw the incredibles...and they were.  I loved the voice talent.  and the design in the movie was absolutely gorgeous...so much more than just a bond-y look...it had everything!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-109971298784462842?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/109971298784462842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=109971298784462842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/109971298784462842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/109971298784462842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2004/11/incredibles.html' title='The Incredibles'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-109967774450151739</id><published>2004-11-05T13:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-11-05T13:02:24.503-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Days </title><content type='html'>Happy Days are here again...the skies above are clear again...so lets sing a song of cheer of again...HAPPY DAYS...ARE...HERE...AGAIN!  I just felt like singing...it is a gorgeous day and perfect for eating pizza and studying spanish.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-109967774450151739?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/109967774450151739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=109967774450151739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/109967774450151739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/109967774450151739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2004/11/happy-days.html' title='Happy Days '/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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-9017488.post-109962993186367010</id><published>2004-11-04T23:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-11-04T23:45:31.863-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The West Wing</title><content type='html'>So i am in a west wing mood...having just bought the new third season and seen the last jolly episode yesterday....and then about 20 more times today.   You know your an American when you buy something and already want something else:  the 4th season dvd's!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9017488-109962993186367010?l=bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/feeds/109962993186367010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9017488&amp;postID=109962993186367010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/109962993186367010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9017488/posts/default/109962993186367010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bornonthesideofahill.blogspot.com/2004/11/west-wing.html' title='The West Wing'/><author><name>Jennifer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16088544718262751802</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>
