<?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-6387161903968350281</id><updated>2012-02-16T19:45:58.769-08:00</updated><title type='text'>.hello.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-6915738669278857238</id><published>2008-11-21T18:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T18:45:55.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sugarcane</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I'm the salt in your sugarcane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;But it's not the taste that I blame&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;It's not you or I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;because we try, try, try&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;The more we change, the more things stay the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;And maybe I have always been the one to say goodbye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;And I won't lie, no, if I don't stick around you're not gonna die..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;And now you're here and your jeans are ripped&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;A cigarette between your lips&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;But you don't smoke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I guess now you do , do do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;because what you want, I just can't give to you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;because what you want, I just can't give to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;"&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-6915738669278857238?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/6915738669278857238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=6915738669278857238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/6915738669278857238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/6915738669278857238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/11/sugarcane.html' title='Sugarcane'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-5695545091645478605</id><published>2008-11-10T22:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T22:28:47.337-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;American Heritage Dictionary defines&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://education.yahoo.com/reference/dictionary/entry/love"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;--&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It's amazing to me how even with all the different definitions, none can really fully describe what love is.  It's so much more than a feeling.  So much more than attraction.  Beyond that, love is hardly ever cut and dry.  It's complicated and confusing.  Sometimes it's selfless, sometimes entirely selfish.  Sometimes it's euphoric, others it's dysphoric.  It's something you can give or receive... but also can just have within you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1 John 4 says that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;God &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;love.&lt;/span&gt;  God loves us when no one else does.  He loves us when many others love us.  He loves us when we are defiant and when we are obedient.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Our actions can show our love.  The choices we make can reflect the inner love we have for someone, something.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't believe that knowing something is wrong means that you are absent of love for that person.  Not at all.  Sometimes love is illogical, sometimes it can't save you from what God is revealing.  Yet, God is still love.  And indeed, when we are the most lost and confused, even to the point where we find ourselves wondering if we have any idea what love is, He is there, loving us more than we could ever deserve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Much more than I could ever deserve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;There is nothing I can do to ever make up for this love, but out of love I choose to try.  Not to try to earn God's love, no one can do that.  Rather I choose to try to show my love every chance I get.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I John 4:9-10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;: This is how God showed his love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him.  This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-5695545091645478605?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/5695545091645478605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=5695545091645478605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/5695545091645478605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/5695545091645478605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/11/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-9134443555375826150</id><published>2008-11-10T02:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T02:46:34.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'>6,000,000,000</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;There are 6 billion people in the world... and sometimes, all you need, is one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-9134443555375826150?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/9134443555375826150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=9134443555375826150' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/9134443555375826150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/9134443555375826150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/11/6000000000.html' title='6,000,000,000'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-709767960412214777</id><published>2008-11-06T02:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T02:59:56.345-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I &lt;3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.mps-group.com/images/Heart%20Shadow%20Red.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 50px; height: 50px;" src="http://www.mps-group.com/images/Heart%20Shadow%20Red.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Nonfat Pumpkin Spice Lattes with whipped cream and 1 or 2 extra shots&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;cookie dough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Christmas Season&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Christmas trees&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Christmas lights&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;breezes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;cold nights&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;South Park: "All About the Mormons?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;"I am so smart... s-m-r-t... I mean s-m-a-r-t"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Alberto's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;living half a mile from Alberto's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Unico&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;ugly fuzzy warm socks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Juicy sweats&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;hoodies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;My Little Pony&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Thanksgiving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Little Women&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;fires in the fireplace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;s'mores with peanut butter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Rainbow Brite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;clean rooms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;down comforters&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Mrs. Fields Sugar Butter with M&amp;amp;M's and Semisweet Chocolate Chip cookies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;baking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;grocery shopping&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;surprise gifts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;getting free/super cheap flowers from my boy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Christmas music!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;having an 80 gig ipod&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;my macbook&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;TV on dvd: Grey's Anatomy, Gilmore Girls, 7th Heaven, 90210 (the o.g.), One Tree Hill, Sex and the City, and whatever goes on sale for $20 next&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;TV on the internet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Treehouse of Horror&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;good books&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Miguel's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;shakes, my childhood love returns&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;True Religion Johnny and Death Valley Candice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;William Rast Sadie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;my coach flats&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Tom's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;the idea of "Family Home Evening"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;kitties&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Smashbox&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Clinique&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Mocha Banana Ice Storms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;boysenberry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Final Fantasy VII&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;singing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;encouraging&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;candles&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;yummy smells: books, boy, fragrance, fresh rain on the asphalt...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Lexapro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;fall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;preschoolers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;helping people learn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Diet Coke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Stella&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Republic of Tea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Coffffffffffffffffee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;my owl teapot at cups that my mom got me last Christmas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;the chaise lounge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;my bed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Au Gratin potatoes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;ham&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;pound cake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;scrabble&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;manicures&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;pedicures&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;clean kitchens&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;hummus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;american apparel deep v's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;having a safe apartment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Mission Inn at Christmastime&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Hot Cocoa with whipped cream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Kim's pumpkin squares&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;songs that make even me dance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;graduating&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Felt like reflecting... turns out I can create an infinite list of things I "&lt;3"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;"&gt;I'm a lucky girl.&lt;/span&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/6387161903968350281-709767960412214777?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/709767960412214777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=709767960412214777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/709767960412214777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/709767960412214777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-i-3.html' title='Things I &lt;3'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-3803590925437933304</id><published>2008-11-01T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T15:40:03.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I may never be someone's Juliet.  Someone probably won't say, "I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress."  But love stories still exist, right?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I refuse to believe that they're just some sort of extravagant fairy tale.  I believe relationships take work.  But I believe in love.  The love God has given me has shown me that true, real love exists.  No, a human can't love in the same capacity that God can... but that love God has given me convinces me that He wants more for us.  He wants us to love on a different level.  He wants us to pour love on someone.  It only makes sense that that person He has for us would want to pour love back on us, right?  Someone who will choose you above everything else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Is a truly godly family outdated?  Is the idea of chasing after what God has for you wholeheartedly obsolete?  We all make mistakes, but the underlying desire to do what's right... is it still alive here on earth?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I say it has to be.  I choose to believe in love.  I choose to believe that God knows what's best for me.  Yes, even when it hurts.  Even when it's hard.  Even when it doesn't make sense to me.  And still, in those moments, that is what I want.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;In this moment, that is all I want.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-3803590925437933304?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/3803590925437933304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=3803590925437933304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/3803590925437933304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/3803590925437933304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/11/love-story.html' title='Love Story'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-9137947639426183110</id><published>2008-10-09T02:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T10:29:19.947-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-9137947639426183110?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/9137947639426183110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=9137947639426183110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/9137947639426183110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/9137947639426183110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/10/so.html' title=''/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-36789121732341066</id><published>2008-09-27T15:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T15:29:48.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriage and Family</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;A lot of my old high school friends have recently gotten married.  It is their custom to create a "couple" blog almost instantly.  In viewing one of my recently married friend's pages, I saw the plethora of links to other couples' sites on the right panel.  A couple quick clicks and I was informed that many other people I graduated with were married with three kids already!  A few of them had a child starting kindergarten.  It made me feel kind of old for a minute.  Isn't it amazing how five years can make such a difference?  That is the length of time it takes most people to finish a bachelor's degree presently.  It is also the amount of time it takes to raise a child ready to begin kindergarten.  Something about the equivalency of those time frames seems off to me, like there's no way they could possibly be equal.  Mommy and Me is a while off for this gal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-36789121732341066?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/36789121732341066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=36789121732341066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/36789121732341066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/36789121732341066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/09/marriage-and-family.html' title='Marriage and Family'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-2061857694811520145</id><published>2008-07-02T03:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T03:33:59.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Connections Everywhere</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Lately I've been seeing connections between so many things that I like and the way I actually live my life.  I'm not sure if that's something we automatically do... if everyone naturally gravitates toward activities, sports, games, etc. that fit in with their views on life, or if it's just a strange coincidence in my case.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Gymnastics.  I love gymnastics.  One of my biggest regrets in life is being too picky about finding a gym when we moved back down to Corona and just stopping.  I still get the urge to run and tumble, (which I can no longer physically do.)  In gymnastics, the commentators will almost always mention something about consistency and how that is the most important thing a gymnast can have.  "In gymnastics, consistency over flash rules the day."  Then I started thinking, 'How interesting that the sport I love is centered on consistency.  I love consistency.'  I think consistency over flash rules the day for me every time too.  In a relationship, consistency says way more than flash.  This is not to say that I want things to be mundane and boring or throw spontaneity out the window.  However, someone could do seemingly flashy things like little amazing touches, amazing compliments, generous gestures... but they don't mean much to me if they aren't consistent.  Consistency speaks the truth of people's intentions, of their hearts.  It's what comes out when we aren't trying so hard, really, that shows what we're made of.  Beyond relationships, I long for consistency in my life pretty much everywhere.  I want consistency with my health, with my classes, with work, with my friendships... it's when things in my life lack consistency that I find myself beginning to freak out.  At least I've revealed a bit of a control issue... definitely something I can work on.  But, is it really so bad to like consistency?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Another thing I love is chess.  I've always loved chess.  I'm such a dork that I was even part of the chess club at McKinley Elementary in 5th grade.  (This says nothing about my chess skills, I'm horribly out of practice!)  Anyhow, I know that my weakness in chess strategy is that I'm a defensive player.  Often, that's enough to beat my opponent, but once in a while I'll play someone who actually has a specific strategy and they'll sneak up on me and slaughter me.  The reason they can do this so easily is that I'm terrified to leave my King and Queen pieces unguarded and in doing so instead block them in so they can't escape either.  Easy checkmate for my opponent.  It hit me that I think I sometimes live life like this.  I approach everything in a defensive way.  Not a forward defensive way, rather a quiet one.  Defensive driving, surrounding myself with defense mechanisms to keep my most valuable pieces safe, but in essence suffocating those most important pieces at the same time.  It made me wonder... do I build up walls all around me?  I like to think of myself as a mostly open person.  There isn't much I won't talk to you about and all I ask is for you to be open and honest with me in return.  I'm still pondering how I feel about this connection between how I play chess and how I play 'life,' and coming up with slightly more connections each time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I like math because it is more of an objective subject rather than english or another subjective subject where each professor can give you an A for the same paper another would give an F to.  Does that fit in with consistency?  Or is that more of a need for predictability?  No surprises, you do this, this will happen.  Learn the equations, construct the correct proofs, integrate the functions correctly and you will get an A.  I think I tend to approach my relationship with God, in many areas, in this same way.  I know I did that a lot all through Catalyst.  "God, tell me what You want for me, what You want me to do and I will do it, no hesitation."  God put me through a huge stretching experience in teaching me that I didn't always have to know exactly what to do, that He wasn't always going to tell me and that is a huge part of true faith.  Having faith even when there isn't a clear answer or process to finding that answer or arriving at a certain place.  A lot of my convictions fit in specifically in the manner of knowing the consequence for certain actions and thus understanding not to do them.  To some people, the way I handle my convictions and temptations often seem too cut and dry.  Sometimes I've even been told it seems 'too easy' for me in certain areas.  It's definitely not easy, but my logic has come to a point where it has learned the unpleasant outcome from indulging in what I want at the moment rather than what God really wants for me.  I don't like those unpleasant outcomes.  I'll do whatever it takes to avoid them.  Along with the fact that I really, truly do want to please God.  That's just the approach I tend to take.  Too logical?  Logical only to me?  I don't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I'm not sure how I feel about all of these connections being so apparent in my life.  Next thing you know, my study strategies will be a direct metaphor to how I spend money or my career drive to my MarioKart skills or possibly even my love for fluffy blankets and pillows connected to the type of people I like in my life.  I'm tired now, so time to try to make the brain stop churning.  It hurts.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Connections everywhere.  Slightly freaking me out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-2061857694811520145?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/2061857694811520145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=2061857694811520145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/2061857694811520145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/2061857694811520145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/07/connections-everywhere.html' title='Connections Everywhere'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-5124336958598128971</id><published>2008-06-28T02:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T02:41:58.352-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuck Awake</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;It's 2:18 AM and I am stuck awake.  I wish I could just be asleep.  I like sleeping.  Sleeping is safe, relaxing, peaceful. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I'm in a weird mood.  Season 3, Episode 19 of Gilmore Girls is playing.  Many more still to come.  Usually Gilmore Girls is so familiar that it's comforting but at the moment I'm slightly disinterested.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I want to know why we can't just want the things we want to want.  Lots of wants in that last sentence... but really.  It seems like we should be able to choose what we want.  If only it were that easy!  I find myself trying lately anyway.  Making lists in my head and trying to coax myself consciously.  Perhaps a bit more and I'll have myself completely brainwashed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;A situation that horribly angered me has reangered me.  Reangered isn't a word.  Angered me again?  It bothers me that it makes me angry, because it's really not worth it.  Something about it just hits me where it hurts the most.  Then I get upset that it can upset.  Really a waste of time, and that irritation is what led me to begin typing tonight.  Forgiveness is hard when a situation keeps going, I think.  I'm not sure if I've had to forgive this way before?  Perhaps God designed it all to teach me what it REALLY means to be forgiving.  Sigh.  Yes, Lord.  I'll try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I love my new roommates.  Tara is neurotic, open, silly, and caring.  Brooke will talk to you about anything and everything, always with a smile on her face, even when she's upset or irritated.  Heavenly smiles and hugs me tight, then sings amazingly, even along to the preschool songs I wander around singing.  Stella Star anyone?  God came through at exactly the right moment, provided for me like He faithfully does.  Yahweh Yireh.  Still one of the most profound things to me ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Turning out the lights hasn't brought me any closer to dreams.  The darkness almost seems bright at the moment.  How annoying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Wall-e came out today and I can't wait to see it.  I know everyone thinks I'm a dork, but every time I see that little robot I get a bit giddy.  It's the little things in life, I tell you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Every time I get into this irritated state, I feel like God nurses me into a thankful state.  Not thankful with joy quite right away, but more the kind when you know your parent is right about all the good things... ha.  God IS right... He is always right.  The words I heard so clearly years ago still seem almost audible: "I don't make mistakes."  Praise the Lord, we all know I do!  It's true, there are 4 girls living here, chances for chaos.  Yet, I have this great place to live, a comfortable bed, a computer to rant on, Gilmore Girls to comfort, Brooke in the next room enjoying Gilmore Girls season 1, Minus at my side, an amazing school, even more amazing professors, a great friend to go through my last quarter with and keep me accountable to staying on schedule with studying, cheap rent in a time of recession, the check Daddy sends me to help while I'm in school, a mom who lets me rant, wants to know how I'm doing, and still wants to take care of me when I'm sick, a brother who calls to tell me about the shard of metal that the doctor found in his eye, a little sister who is distraught over the $4 necklace she forgot to get back from her student teacher before she left simply because I gave it to her, a little brother who still hugs me when he sees me, another little sister who writes notes like "sorry you missed it," on her white board when I miss family dinners, and a bigger older sister who made me a special card AND got me gifts for teacher's appreciation week last year, a stepbrother who went upstairs and brought me my own fan because even though there was a fan in the room I was still hot, a stepsister that leaves me nice comments on my myspace page, an aunt who pays me so well to housesit for her.. it's truly more of a blessing for me than her!  I could go on, but God has, once again, proven His point to me.  Thanks for that God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I haven't been "on" lately.  It's really bothered me.  I haven't been reading enough, I haven't gotten plugged into a church anywhere since Aaron and I broke up.  It just feels weird being at any South Hills right now.  Everyone else jumped on the Crossroads band wagon, so while I really enjoyed the Sunday night services when Chuck first came back, I want to make sure if I go there it's really just because I want to.  I can't think of any other church that I'd feel ok going to service alone at, though.  Maybe that means something?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Graduation is getting close.  Too close?  Does it make any sense to be more anxious about graduating than about all the things it takes to get there?  High school boys told me I was pretty at Alberto's tonight... Brooke said I should've told them I was going to be their math teacher next year.  Haha... funny yet do I really look like a student?  How am I going to get the respect of those kids if I look like one of them?  Blah.  I know I can do it.  Just overwhelmed at the moment.  Overwhelmed at fixing my GPA by getting that doctor's note so they can take last quarter off the record... and so I can still get into that amazing scholar program that I was about to start.  So much to do... I know it's that whole "pick one thing at a time" thing... but even that doesn't really work for me sometimes.  Even the "one thing" gets to be too much.  Such a spaz... one day this will fully be worked out, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-5124336958598128971?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/5124336958598128971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=5124336958598128971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/5124336958598128971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/5124336958598128971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/06/stuck-awake.html' title='Stuck Awake'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-6315181988219175514</id><published>2008-06-25T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T15:12:04.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Rules My World</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everytime I have some inspired thought to write in here I get distracted, am away from the computer, or simply decide I am too lazy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Random will have to work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;After all, we have to start somewhere, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Lately things that should be easy seem so much more complicated. At least in line with this, the things that should be more complicated are almost too easy. How is it, though, that as these "more complicated" things have become seemingly "easy," that their new approach in the easy category makes them complicated? Roundabout in every sense.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I've decided I like the acoustic versions of Death Cab for Cutie songs much better than their originals. Please don't organize my lynching. A couple songs off of their new album have really heavy lyrics. One in particular, "You Can Do Better Than Me," is particularly intense.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;We're starting to feel&lt;br /&gt;We stayed together out of fear&lt;br /&gt;Of dying alone&lt;br /&gt;I've been slipping through the years&lt;br /&gt;My old clothes don't fit like they once did&lt;br /&gt;So they hang like ghosts&lt;br /&gt;Of the people I've been&lt;br /&gt;It's like my heart can't take&lt;br /&gt;My fall in love every day&lt;br /&gt;And I feel like a fool&lt;br /&gt;I have to face the truth&lt;br /&gt;That no one could ever look at me like you do&lt;br /&gt;Like I'm something worth holding on to&lt;br /&gt;These times I think of leaving&lt;br /&gt;But it's something I'll never do&lt;br /&gt;'Cause you can do better than me&lt;br /&gt;But I can't do better than you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;How horrible? Yet, I don't know many people who haven't felt that way in their life. How disconcerting... immensely disconcerting. Further, it seems that I don't know any single person for whom this is not a deep fear. I think I often feel in relationships that I'm that person looking at my beloved the way "no one could," as they stay with me out of fear, or because they don't think they can do better. I NEVER want to be that girlfriend, that wife. There's a difference between believing someone is the best for you and settling because you don't think you can do better. If that is you, do yourself, and that poor guy/girl, a favor. Suck it up and leave. Being single doesn't hurt that badly, I promise. God wants sooooo much more for us in a mate than settling and staying together out of fear of being alone! Our God is great, powerful, and loving. His plan for us is PERFECT. I don't see perfection in that scenario.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;How do these always turn into some sort of rant? I'm really not upset, angry, or hurt. Just thinking. My mind tends to do a bit too much of that. Food for thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-6315181988219175514?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/6315181988219175514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=6315181988219175514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/6315181988219175514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/6315181988219175514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/06/random-rules-my-world.html' title='Random Rules My World'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-6258296779679088090</id><published>2008-05-30T18:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T18:20:48.045-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Belonging</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever been all set to do something, and got a feeling that maybe you just don't belong?  Not in a weird, acceptance way.  Just in general, perhaps as deep as in a God way.  For whatever reason, maybe you aren't supposed to be a part of that.  It's a weird feeling.  Not sure how I feel about it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Today is one of those moment where I almost feel like I'm not living my life, but watching it be lived.  That, also, is an odd feeling.  It seems a bit like I'm floating through life today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hmm... what else weird will happen today?  At this rate, I'm sure it's bound to be something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-6258296779679088090?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/6258296779679088090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=6258296779679088090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/6258296779679088090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/6258296779679088090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/05/belonging.html' title='Belonging'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-6206670628896560166</id><published>2008-05-28T05:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T05:22:22.249-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cats...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;snore???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-6206670628896560166?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/6206670628896560166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=6206670628896560166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/6206670628896560166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/6206670628896560166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/05/cats.html' title='Cats...'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-3681543898771514977</id><published>2008-05-20T02:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T03:23:27.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;God in places you weren't looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace in the midst of chaos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth in a world of deceit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Direction while being so, so lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All miracles in their own right. God is so good. Not because He gave me something amazing. Not because He answered "yes" to one of my prayers. Because He truly is GOOD. He defines good. If ever anything has goodness, it comes from God. That's an awful lot of good. There are many more things with good in them in this world than zeroes in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;googolplex&lt;/span&gt;, for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've felt less purposeful than usual. Not on purpose. Completely by accident, in fact. When I got tired and sick, it lead to a lack of motivation, which led to a slight period of being bummed out. Bummed out that I wasn't doing things I knew I should be able to and things I could be doing as well. I got stuck in this hole and I wasn't sure how to get out. I don't think I'm all the way out, but I do believe that I see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's God and He's calling me to action. In my mind I think, "finally!" yet in reality, I'm sure He's been there a while, there were just things clouding my vision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've found myself looking back on the mission trip to Fiji lately, feeling like it was an entirely different lifetime. It was such a huge experience, such a growing experience, such a learning experience, and somehow it got pushed back behind all the clutter of today. I put a couple photo albums up on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt;. Not so much to show off that I've been to Fiji or that I went on a mission trip, but as a reminder to me. Those people taught me so much, and God taught me so much through them and through myself on that trip. On my own, I get too insecure to go on another trip. Thoughts like: "I'm not good at giving testimonies or preaching, I get too nervous, I freeze up... so they don't need someone like me, they need those kind of people. What would I be able to do." or "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ew&lt;/span&gt;, they ate fish eyeballs there? I couldn't go there. I couldn't eat a fish eyeball." or "the spiders are how big there? I can't go there." The truth is, I will go wherever God calls me. Even if, despite my inner pleadings, it means I have to eat goat testicles or sleep in ants (oh God, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pleeeeeease&lt;/span&gt; don't make me ever sleep in ants... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; maybe if that happens I'll climb on top of something with tons of ant spray and not sleep. But I'll go,) I will go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even beyond mission trips, if I'm called to be here. So be it! I will be here in the greatest capacity God has for me. I may not have a "specific ministry" as of this moment, but I am striving to be who God wants me to be more than ever. Striving to put myself in places to hear His voice more than ever. Striving to stop and listen more than ever. And striving to pray and praise Him more than ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing how praising God and praying can make ME feel better. I'm not doing it for me. I'm not even praying for me or anything I want some of the times. Yet somehow my life is better when it is filled with prayer. God is so generous and pours so many blessings out onto our lives. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in worry or busy-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ness&lt;/span&gt; or nonsense that we don't stop to notice all the blessings we have in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing in the world like feeling God's presence. Nothing. I think I'd gone too long without it. It didn't make me doubt Him or trust Him less, but it did make me forget that awestruck feeling of really seeing God work. God can even work when we don't feel Him, of course, but sometimes He allows us a peek. It may be while we're lying on the couch and just get a quick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;glimpse&lt;/span&gt;, having no idea what He's up to, but that glimpse is so marvelous, so inspiring. I'm pretty sure I'd forgotten that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny that I started re-reading Praise Habit by David &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Crowder&lt;/span&gt; a few nights ago. The sub-title of the book is: Finding God in Sunsets and Sushi, and in one of the introductions he goes into how after an earth shattering event and not "finding" God for quite sometime, it was in a Chick-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;fil&lt;/span&gt;-A sandwich that he found Him. What a coincidence that after reading that a few nights ago is when I sit here talking about my own experience with God. I'm sure the few of you reading this now think it is not a coincidence but a projection in my mind off something I read... ha, but whatever. All I can do is rattle off my thoughts as they come. That's what this blog is for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's that peace again. That peace that reminds you that the Counselor Jesus spoke of, the one He was sending to be here with us once He went to be with the Father, is in fact HERE. Here showering us with God's peace, surrounding us with His comfort, and lifting us out of our pits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That Psalm is still one of my favorites. I love the way the Message Bible puts it. It just illustrates to me how God reached down into the pit for David. But, not only did He show up and reach in, He got dirty to do it. Our pure, clean Lord got Himself dirty for us. Not only did He get Himself dirty, He then set David on solid rock, putting him in position to start again and succeed. I know He does that for us. What would we do without Him? Seriously?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm%2040&amp;amp;version=65"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm%2040&amp;amp;version=65&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; There it is, Psalm 40. Read it. God is amazing and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;mind blowing&lt;/span&gt;. As much so today as He was thousands of years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a focus switch, if you pray, I'd love if you wouldn't mind praying for me. God is doing something.. but on top of that, I feel a lot of weirdness around me. I can't tell whether it's weirdness bad or weirdness good. But I definitely feel it. I would love nothing more than to KNOW what God is asking of me so I can do it. I can be so literal sometimes that I drive myself crazy. God built me that way, right? Gave me a mind that is capable of understanding and following directions? Interpretation is good in other areas, but sometimes I wonder just how much interpretation is good with God? Is it like a mathematical proof? Are there multiple ways to prove the conjecture leading to a theorem? Or is it more absolute? Like this is the narrow path you take, the others are the easy ones that lead you away from God's path?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I do believe is that there isn't an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;unfixable&lt;/span&gt; wrong way. If the holder of all of these supposed paths was a forest, say there are five paths. One of them is the narrow path, winding through bushes and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;brier&lt;/span&gt; patches and leech filled rivers and over mountains... the other four don't lead you off into the desert to face an undeliverable fate of dehydration and sun stroke. They don't lead to the same place God's path does either, but there are a bunch of tiny paths, some maybe slightly overgrown and harder to see, that will lead back to that narrow path. You can take detours from God's will. But God still has a will for you. He still invites you to follow Him, from wherever you are. Whether it is for the first time ever, or if this is your 100&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; time swimming against the river to get back onto the path. God is unchanging and His love never fails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think a lot of us get this anxiety about making choices in our life. Like if we make the wrong one, we've screwed up forever. If we don't take the new job offer and it was the one God wanted, then we're stuck in a job we hate for the rest of our lives. If we don't get involved in the right ministry at the right age, then it's too late to start later in life. If we break up with the right "one" then we've missed our shot at God's idea of our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;soulmate&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our God does not work that way. He is not a one chance God. He forgives us infinite times, and along with that forgiveness comes the omniscience of knowing that we aren't perfect. We are a deeply flawed people unable of reaching perfection. That extends to our choices in life. And God's omniscience extends to knowing which "wrong" choices we're going to make! God's will is bigger than anything we can imagine, His power stronger than the mightiest on this earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we don't take "the" job offer, then something else will come. God will lead us into the field He wants us in, the field He's made us to work in and be happy in. In His time, He will lead us back to that place. If we didn't start singing at the age of 10, but feel God would've wanted us to do worship, He probably still wants us to do worship! If we break up with the "one," and they truly ARE the "one," then in God's time, He will bring them back into our lives. I have no doubt in that. He is bigger than us. And as long as we continue to seek Him, and try to make choices that would honor Him, He will bless us, not cast us down into the losers sections with the rest of the people who didn't see the perfect choice for them the first time around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to letting God do the leading, with less fear and anxiety.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-3681543898771514977?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/3681543898771514977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=3681543898771514977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/3681543898771514977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/3681543898771514977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/05/finding.html' title='Finding...'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-7052203174971919022</id><published>2008-05-04T15:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T15:54:02.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peace</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Some days I wake up feeling so peaceful that it confuses me. I haven't stepped outside yet, but from the light flowing through the closed blinds I can tell it's a beautiful day. Something about it makes me want to be in the midst of all that sun and clean air. Ok, not really clean air since this is Riverside, but as close as it comes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brooke Fraser's Arithmetic is the song playing in the background right now, that could be adding to the peace. Zipadeedoodah came on too. I don't care what you say. That is one of the happiest songs in creation. How can you not smile and want to whistle when you hear it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something about days like today make me want to create. To envision something new. To ride a bike. To go sit on a blanket at the park and hang with friends in the shade of some beautiful tree. One of God's greatest creations, in my opinion. That last one is the most probable as I am not particularly creative. Something about that analytical math brain doesn't translate well to art. The envisioning? It's possible while the air outside is clear perhaps my brain is too clouded. Riding a bike? Ha. It sounds wonderful. Two problems. A) I don't own a bike. B) Me? Exercise? Lately that's a rare occurance. I know, I know... I really should. Pilates is still waiting... a glorious, magical exercise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Natalie brought chrysanthemums home from Trader Joe's last week and placed them in cute strawberry cups on our coffee table. Did you know that they've found that having flowers in the home greatly increases one's happiness and contentment with their surroundings? I was never a big "bring me flowwwwwwers" girl, but I'm digging having flowers around. I buy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still feel like a loser for having gotten so far behind in school that I really can't catch up, except in one class. That professor is awesome. If you ever end up at CSUSB, take Dr. Negin for your upper division expository writing requirement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace Freak out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-7052203174971919022?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/7052203174971919022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=7052203174971919022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/7052203174971919022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/7052203174971919022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/05/peace.html' title='Peace'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-5411095959292984185</id><published>2008-05-03T23:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T23:26:12.849-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Over the Top</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's funny how sometimes one little thing can just put you over the top. Then there are other times that maybe you're already over the top. Tonight... I'm not sure which one it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of mean people. Of people being blatantly rude to me. Am I really that bad of a person? Have I done something that I don't know about? Do I come off differently than who I really am?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me lay it out again. I am a shy, shy person. Often times, I am a rather insecure person. Not so much about who I am. But in situations like tonight I am maximally insecure. I do not enjoy meanness, crudeness, rudeness, any of it. Not one bit. In fact, it makes me physically feel sick. I am an honest person. I'm nice to almost everyone. In fact, I only say almost everyone because, being a math geek, I know how absolute words can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a bit off track. Life has been throwing me some curve balls, some screw balls, some odd slow balls that drop quicker than I expected... though somehow, today was a good day. Nicole invited me to dinner and it was genuinely great. I was happy and it felt so nice to hang out with girls. Especially that these girls I've hardly ever really hung out with outside of church were totally nice and made me feel normal. I wasn't worried about my life or bummed about everything that just went down. I was still happy. Then that one thing that puts you over the top happened. And my world kind of froze. It shouldn't have been such a big deal. It shouldn't have affected me so much. Obviously it wasn't really all that. But I felt like I took a punch to the chest. Like I could hardly breathe or think. I just needed to escape. So, I did what I always do. Escaped to the bathroom for a few minutes. What an elaborate plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the midst of all of these frustrations it made me think. Yeah, there are things that can put you over the top and things that seem to knock down all the positive progress you've made. But you know what? There are truly positive things that put you over the top too. Things like that dinner. Things like friends being there for you. Things like girls that are truly nice and exhibit God's love in every sense of the word. Things like friends that tell you the things you need to hear, even when they know you may not like it... and that will encourage you when they know you need it most too. I'm choosing to focus on that. To be thankful that while today there was one thing to put me over the top negatively, I had a lot of positive things in my life. Little gifts from God to help me through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sean showed me a John Piper video on youtube earlier. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTc_FoELt8s&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTc_FoELt8s&amp;amp;feature=related&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; It's true. God is glorified when through whatever it is, we still praise Him. This is nothing like those extremes. But still, I choose God. I choose His way, His time, His love. I choose Him. And hearing that message again, as cheesy as it sounds, all I can think of is, "my cup floweth over." While I am sad, somehow I feel thankful. While I am deeply, deeply hurt, I feel peace. While I am experiencing waves of sorrow, I feel it's really ok. Big things are happening in my life. God brought me here. He'll bring me to the next place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: If you haven't already, watch that video. It's short enough. Just do it. Thank Sean later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-5411095959292984185?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/5411095959292984185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=5411095959292984185' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/5411095959292984185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/5411095959292984185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/05/over-top.html' title='Over the Top'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-6301038337989720289</id><published>2008-05-03T05:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T05:35:55.619-07:00</updated><title type='text'>5 - There's one of those in the morning now?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;If you can name that quote, you get a bonus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's 5:20 am. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5:20&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;What the?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Natalie and I are still in our respective spots in the living room. Laptops out, lights on, air conditioner blowing elegantly as it does.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's amazing the things being up so early in the morning can make you do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Like deciding maybe we want to rent a house in Lake Elsinore, they're cheap. Hey! There's a 4 bedroom house in Victorville for $1050! Let's move there! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Seriously? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well, on early morning brain. Most definitely! On somewhat coherent and awake brain... absolutely not. We aren't moving away. We couldn't do it. Why is rent MORE in San Bernardino, Fontana, and ghetto places than Riverside? Riverside is pretty nice compared to a lot of places. Am I living in a fog here? Is Riverside the new South Central or something?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Another amazing early morning discovery. Minus hates screeching noise. How do I know this? Well... I'm not sure why, but I decided to see how high I could screech. No, not in tune with Mariah Carey this time, though she is great and definitely the best singer to sing along to ever.. just for fun. As high and annoying as possible. It didn't scare Meow Meow the scaredy cat... but Minus ran and looked around as if the place were on fire. He then turned and gave me 'the look.' I didn't even know cats knew how to give 'the look.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;We locked Meow Meow out to be social and on one of Minus' chasing activities... (which I joined in, of course, because Meow Meow's no fun,) he turned the corner, ran full speed and stopped instantly as he found himself face to face with the backside of my laptop screen. At the moment of his stop, he simultaneously shot straight up into the air about three feet. Natalie died laughing as I crumbled to the floor. Minus scurried onto the arm of the couch. That cat. He is always doing something funny. What other cat straddles the arm of the couch and sleeps the way Minus does? (If you need a refresher: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewPicture&amp;amp;friendID=288340637&amp;amp;albumId=658867"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewPicture&amp;amp;friendID=288340637&amp;amp;albumId=658867&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Anyhow, being up this early in the morning makes you crazy. But I can't sleep! It seems I'm eternally damned to be exhausted and not get on a normal schedule. At least tonight I'm not alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;On a more serious note... things are changing. I'm frustrated and mad, yet not frustrated and not mad. I feel like all of my feelings are conflicting at the moment. I feel lost but indifferent and calm and lost. Did I mention I feel lost? Why is it so hard to be content when you feel like something is right? I didn't even do this... but it had to be done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Darn all the complications. Will somebody just be nice to me already? Is that too much to ask for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Crazed Cave Dweller out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-6301038337989720289?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/6301038337989720289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=6301038337989720289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/6301038337989720289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/6301038337989720289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/05/5-theres-one-of-those-in-morning-now.html' title='5 - There&apos;s one of those in the morning now?'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-427054594841322755</id><published>2008-04-30T18:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T18:53:43.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hodgepodge</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So, Friday I went to the doctors.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Turns out I have an infection, needed more allergy stuff, and the rest she still isn't sure on.  I get to go get a bunch of blood tests, a chest x-ray, and make changes to my diet.  Oh, they're great.  Check these out:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;No coffee, black tea, diet soda (caffeine)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;No alcohol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;No processed foods&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Eat leafy greens&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;These were on a prescription sheet separate from my pharmacy prescriptions.  Pretty official.  Pretty sucky.  Figuring out which foods were and weren't processed was a headache!  I bought a ton of leafy greens, vegetables, and fruit from Trader Joe's and picked a few things from there and Vons that were organic.  By yesterday I just felt starving!  So I searched more relentlessly and found pizza, macaroni and cheese, and soup!  I know it's lame, but I was sooo happy last night.  I love pizza.  I was sad without it, even if it was only a few days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I still feel like I'm a mess.  I slept all day today.  I'm not very productive.  I still can't focus.  I'm exhausted.  I feel confused almost all of the time.  I feel out of it.  I'm too lazy to even watch a movie.  Loooooooooser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I've been somewhat nostalgic musically lately.  I became reobsessed with The Anniversary and now I'm on a Weezer kick.  Happy music, where have you been?  It makes me miss all those "easier" days.  When I wasn't a freak and my biggest decision was "which flavor of Ben &amp;amp; Jerry's tonight?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-427054594841322755?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/427054594841322755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=427054594841322755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/427054594841322755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/427054594841322755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/04/hodgepodge.html' title='Hodgepodge'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-1479644007566753156</id><published>2008-04-23T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T13:36:07.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>feel like...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;death :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I need strength and motivation so I can do well for school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Get away from me bacteria and virus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-1479644007566753156?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/1479644007566753156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=1479644007566753156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/1479644007566753156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/1479644007566753156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/04/feel-like.html' title='feel like...'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-8912985448412831521</id><published>2008-04-22T02:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:23:42.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>insomnia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/SA23sfqpCAI/AAAAAAAAABI/bk2rTexgB9w/s1600-h/l_bf72726418ca6563e1b3e0d772c3d660.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I love sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;What's the deal with sudden insomnia?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;For the last week or so, I get tired before I'm actually able to go to bed. Then, it seems I pass this magical point... at which time I wake up and catch a second wind. Yet all I really want to be doing is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/SA21uPqpB-I/AAAAAAAAAA4/Suj7RFwxM_A/s1600-h/SleepingScribblesCartoon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192005751512041442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/SA21uPqpB-I/AAAAAAAAAA4/Suj7RFwxM_A/s320/SleepingScribblesCartoon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Minus is passed out on the edge of the bed like usual. I wish I could fall asleep that easily...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192008324197451794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/SA24D_qpCBI/AAAAAAAAABQ/IGuZKlDdy4I/s320/l_bf72726418ca6563e1b3e0d772c3d660.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;adl;fkoiadnkfka;adf. I will be angry at 7:30 am...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Any suggestions? (Not Nyquil... I'm one of the small percentage that reacts weirdly... it makes me super hyper!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-8912985448412831521?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/8912985448412831521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=8912985448412831521' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/8912985448412831521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/8912985448412831521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/04/insomnia.html' title='insomnia'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/SA21uPqpB-I/AAAAAAAAAA4/Suj7RFwxM_A/s72-c/SleepingScribblesCartoon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387161903968350281.post-8692140518990524915</id><published>2008-04-12T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T22:53:03.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>.hello.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;In the footsteps of Natalie, AKA apartment cave roomie, I have roamed into the blog world. I have nothing important to say, no profound ideas or insights. However, I do have a mind, a voice, and hey, fingers to type with. Why not?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I am not a genius.  I do not have a lot of friends.  I am not a religious fanatic.  I am not politically active.  I am not liked by many people.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I am called a mathlete, a geek, Ace, Chino, Holl, Chewbacca, babe, and teacher.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I believe I am a follower of Christ, tired, not clean enough, a good friend to the ones who'll have me, a geek, and probably other things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I am a senior in college, months away from graduating with my bachelor's degree in mathematics.  Something about that makes me sound way smarter than I am.  There are still days that I wonder, 'how in the world have I made it this far?'  The fear of finishing school myself and entering into a school to teach is beginning to set in.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I know I am a geek.  I like math.  Who actually likes math?  Now, there are days that I hate math.  There are subjects like Real Analysis that make me want to pick my brain apart.  There are professors that make me loathe the subject they teach because I automatically associate it with them.  Calculus and Differential Equations are my friends.  Math is an absolute science.  It is not subjective from professor to professor on what good writing is, or what adequate research is.  If you get the problem right, you get full credit.  I like that guarantee.  I want to show high schoolers that math isn't as evil as the teachers paint it to be.  I was there.  I remember the agony of AP Calculus, then the breath of fresh air that hit during my first semester of math in college.  It doesn't have to be hard?  Here's to saving as many students as I can from the grips of those evil teachers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't have a lot of friends.  I don't remember ever really having a lot of friends.  I've tried running in the clique circles of the time every couple of years, but it is never fulfilling.  It feels like a waste of time and energy, as most of those people don't care about me and, more often than not, ignore me when I speak.  I really like people.  I try to be nice to everyone and will pretty much be friends with anyone who is nice to me.  Maybe I'm living in a dillusional world where I am in fact an unenjoyable person to be around.  It's quite possible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I love Jesus and am thankful for my relationship with him.  I was a constant seeker of knowledge for all things Christian, Jesus-centered, etc.  I hit a wall and was just kind of dead for a while.  I'm still not back into that full speed mode, though I feel more comfortable in my relationship with God, and closer to God than ever, in fact.  From time to time I still get criticized for not "having a ministry."  It gets me so worked up.  What is defined as "having a ministry" nowadays anyway?  It's not good enough to go to church, to follow God and what He is calling you to.  It seems you have to follow what people at the church think you should be doing too.  It's amazing to me that I'm not getting criticized for sinning, for not being obedient to Christ or answering His call in my life, but because after three years of constant serving at this church, I am at a point where I do not feel God calling me into a particular area of service.  I still pray for Him to guide me to server where He wants me.  It's strange how on so many things you're told, "just be patient, God answers in His time, not yours," but on this it seems they're telling me the exact opposite.  What the heck?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I am not politically active.  I do not fight for everything I believe in.  Yes, I'm lazy.  I'll admit it.  I also don't agree enough with any of the candidates this year.  Sometimes I think I like Obama.  Sometimes I think I still like McCain.  I don't like Hilary.  That's about all I know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I am always tired.  Ok, not always, but at least 88% of the time.  What's with that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;No matter how hard I try, I am never as organized as I'd like to be.  My closet is separated into types, then sub-separated in order of color within those types.  If I can't organize them, I won't do it.  Thankfully, that is not the problem at this time, as most of my clothes are actually hanging in my closet.  I know, shocker to those of you who have peered into my room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I have a cat.  His name is Li'l Minus Boy.  I'm not sure if Minus knows his name yet.  Sometimes I think he does, but others I think he's responding to the tone of my voice rather than his actual name.  Minus is more talkative than me!  He has a million different sounds including: mowww, mowww... OWWowW... gglllll... mow? mow? mow? mow? mow?... and the loudest purring you've ever heard.  Sometimes Minus drives my roomie crazy.  Sometimes Minus drives ME crazy.  But I love that cat.  He keeps pooing in the corner of my bathroom on the tile.  I don't know if it's because his litter box was there for a day when we moved in or what.  I get so mad at him.  But then he cuddles up all close to me on my bed and I just love that kitty.  You should meet him, you'd like him too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;If you made it through, welcome to my welcome rant.  More nonsense to come.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6387161903968350281-8692140518990524915?l=hollynomial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/feeds/8692140518990524915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6387161903968350281&amp;postID=8692140518990524915' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/8692140518990524915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6387161903968350281/posts/default/8692140518990524915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hollynomial.blogspot.com/2008/04/in-footsteps-of-natalie-aka-apartment.html' title='.hello.'/><author><name>Holly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01160742605095195982</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bh5MBns44AM/Stir7Bj8x6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/T2c-wCGsqjs/s1600-R/n666236368_4899.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
