<?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-1767224057775826321</id><updated>2012-02-08T18:47:10.448-08:00</updated><category term='vacation'/><title type='text'>Dear World,</title><subtitle type='html'>A work in progress</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>154</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-5310233113341844312</id><published>2012-02-06T22:31:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-06T22:41:24.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>50%</title><content type='html'>I am officially half way done with my CPA exams!  I've been studying non-stop since early October, and, until tonight, I was only 1/4 done (had I not passed test # 2, that would still be the case. I shudder at the thought of having to take the same test again/realizing that the 6 weeks of my life I spent studying for the failed test were given up unnecessarily).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The half-way point is a pretty big milestone for me, because now I have momentum on my side. Now that I'm "over the hill," hopefully I can will myself to keep this up for a little bit longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I just scheduled my final test for early April. Finally there is a light at the end of this long dark tunnel. Feeling: relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tb44Qv1iw5k/TbB4a73mZdI/AAAAAAAAAPI/1sid6TzUvHU/s1600/Little-Engine-That-Could.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 349px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tb44Qv1iw5k/TbB4a73mZdI/AAAAAAAAAPI/1sid6TzUvHU/s1600/Little-Engine-That-Could.jpeg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I think I can!&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/1767224057775826321-5310233113341844312?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/5310233113341844312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/02/50.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5310233113341844312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5310233113341844312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/02/50.html' title='50%'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tb44Qv1iw5k/TbB4a73mZdI/AAAAAAAAAPI/1sid6TzUvHU/s72-c/Little-Engine-That-Could.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-5924818474347658685</id><published>2012-02-04T23:16:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T00:07:55.067-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh In(tro)verted World</title><content type='html'>A weekend of fresh air and no studying is just what I needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went out for a bike ride with my mom. We had to ride on main streets for a few miles to get to the actual bike path. During that part of the ride, we attempted to chat (which isn't easy on a bike). I like talking with my mom, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I just don't have anything to say. Today was one of those days, so I was somewhat relieved when we hit the main bike path (higher speeds and no streets to cross) and all I could hear was the sound of wind in my ears. There was no pressure to speak, allowing me the freedom to retreat into my own head...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel that my mind is a massive cave with infinite tunnels to explore. The more I think, the more I might find. I've gotten in the habit of going to bed at least an hour before I intend on falling asleep to give myself time to think. I think about what is, what was, what could be. Things I said, things I didn't say, things other people said. I try to fit all the pieces of my life together like a puzzle, and fill in the missing pieces with theoreticals. My friends often tell me that I overthink things, but I don't know if there is such thing as overthinking. I don't think I could ever think too much (or get tired of thinking). There are no judgments- just me and my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a related note, my mom saved me &lt;a href="http://www.time.com/time/covers/0,16641,20120206,00.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; magazine, which featured an article about the power of being an introvert and the pressure society places on introverts to conform. As you might have guessed, I am an introvert. We are a thoughtful, cautious breed. This is not to say that we are antisocial people (many people are incredibly surprised to find out that I am an introvert because I can also be extremely sociable and talkative), we just need our thinking time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-5924818474347658685?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/5924818474347658685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/02/oh-introverted-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5924818474347658685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5924818474347658685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/02/oh-introverted-world.html' title='Oh In(tro)verted World'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7594746017616359904</id><published>2012-02-02T23:43:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-03T00:09:15.659-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Know Your Secrets</title><content type='html'>Tonight I had a lovely phone-date with my college housemate/jacket-twin, Laura (we returned from winter break having bought the same North Face-ish furry jacket, hence the jacket-twin title), who sadly moved back to Chicago. She thanked me for introducing her to one of the songs I'd posted in a past blog, which leads me to believe that she reads my blog (shout out!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now I know that I'm not just writing these posts to myself. Not that I'd stop writing if that were the case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm home for the weekend. Too many weekends in Los Angeles makes me claustrophobic for fresh air and open spaces and no traffic. Early this week my mom told me that a new bike path opened near the reservoir by my house, so my weekend plans include bike path exploration, spending time with my dog and visiting college friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Of course, I should probably squeeze some studying in, but I've realized that if I never take breaks it's hard to stay focused. I didn't take any breaks while preparing for my first test, and, well, look at the blogs I posted during that time: &lt;a href="http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/basic-math.html"&gt;bad&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/photo-of-day-because-words-escape-me.html"&gt;worse&lt;/a&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, here's a &lt;a href="http://www.ablogaboutlove.com/2012/02/welcome-february-thoughts-on-love-by.html#more"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; my sister sent me this morning (sorry for all the linkage). I thought it was brief but insightful read (I've never thought about the two types of love, but I've definitely experienced them).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7594746017616359904?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7594746017616359904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-know-your-secrets.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7594746017616359904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7594746017616359904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-know-your-secrets.html' title='I Know Your Secrets'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6661018960964219883</id><published>2012-01-31T18:44:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T19:16:00.168-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Surfer Theorem</title><content type='html'>Hello world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my google calendar has informed me that &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;February&lt;/span&gt; beings tomorrow.  For the majority of the population, February is all about Valentine's Day (whether you love it or hate it). Personally, I think it's sort of odd that a special day has to be set aside to remind couples to show their love for one another (shouldn't that be....every day?), but some couples need that reminder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Per February tradition (1 year strong), here is a theory about relationships (you can catch&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/v-day-part-2-cereal-theorem.html"&gt;last year's post&lt;/a&gt; here):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Surfer Theorem:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;You are a surfer, drifting in shallow waters waiting to catch a wave.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; Sometimes, you can look toward the horizon and see swells coming in the distance. You have a long time to observe the coming swells and decide if which one you'll try to catch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Other times, the swells come out of nowhere. Catching the wave requires quick judgment, but can still result in a successful ride.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Though it is your choice to pass up a wave or attempt to surf it to shore, there are many factors that determine whether the ride will be a success. Certain waves, for one reason or another, just don't work out. You can paddle as hard as you want, and the wave will still move past you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Other times, you may catch the wave, but not stand up in time or fall off your board.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;And then there are the times you do catch the wave and get to your feet, only to wipe out in a cluster of jagged rocks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; And some days, there are just no waves to be caught. This one requires patience, my friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically, just keep at it until you find the perfect wave. Good luck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6661018960964219883?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6661018960964219883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/surfer-theorem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6661018960964219883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6661018960964219883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/surfer-theorem.html' title='The Surfer Theorem'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7760584476214972648</id><published>2012-01-30T19:03:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T19:20:19.625-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Return of the King</title><content type='html'>I might not have mentioned this before, but I spent most of my senior year of high school with a Holden Caulfield-esque internal monologue running through my head. That was a pretty significant turning point in my life in terms of my view of the world and my place in it. I realized that I was a small part of something larger, and stopped worrying so much about trivial things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every so often, Holden makes an appearance (when I need him most) only to slunk off again. I started re-reading Catcher in the Rye this summer hoping to bring him back, but I guess that was too literal. No Holden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up this morning, it quickly became apparent that Holden was back. I'm hoping this allows my upcoming posts reach the philosophical calibur achieved last summer and fall (though perhaps without special guest appearances from pain, sadness and existentialism).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7760584476214972648?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7760584476214972648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/return-of-king.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7760584476214972648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7760584476214972648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/return-of-king.html' title='Return of the King'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7189909204610415634</id><published>2012-01-27T19:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-27T19:05:38.399-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gets Me Every Time</title><content type='html'>1. Lay down for a nap&lt;br /&gt;2. Sun Sets&lt;br /&gt;3. Wake up in the dark&lt;br /&gt;=&lt;br /&gt;WHAT DAY IS IT?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7189909204610415634?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7189909204610415634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/gets-me-every-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7189909204610415634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7189909204610415634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/gets-me-every-time.html' title='Gets Me Every Time'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3422104222571793737</id><published>2012-01-25T22:05:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T22:33:53.532-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Would You Do?</title><content type='html'>If you were walking alongside a river, and and something drifting in the water caught your eye, what would you do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Would you dive in and grab it...or would the possibility of cold water, jagged rocks and a strong current keep you on shore?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Would you keep walking, with the hope that the thing would eventually drift over to where you are?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Or would you just let the thing float away?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had a better answer than &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;I don't know&lt;/span&gt;, but I don't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3422104222571793737?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3422104222571793737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/what-would-you-do.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3422104222571793737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3422104222571793737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/what-would-you-do.html' title='What Would You Do?'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-9062594268466278866</id><published>2012-01-24T18:09:00.005-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T20:08:40.081-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wish list:</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://kathdedon.files.wordpress.com/2010/06/quick-and-easy-chicken-noodle-soup1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 505px; height: 505px;" src="http://kathdedon.files.wordpress.com/2010/06/quick-and-easy-chicken-noodle-soup1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^ This is currently the top item on my wish list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still sick. As of last night I thought the worst was over, but whatever I have keeps evolving. Last week it was only a sore throat. Over the weekend it turned into a clogged/runny nose, and now it's aches and....slow brain (I know there's a better way to say that, but since I have slow brain I can't think of it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I left work at noon (those 5 hours were painful) because my head was too clogged to handle the higher-level thinking required for my current project. (Even this entry is taking a while. Every time I pause to think about what I want to write, I end up zoning out and starting at a blank spot on the wall. Damn slow brain). I slept for the rest of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like I'll have to keep wishing for that soup, given that my caretaker (ie. me) does not have the energy to change out of her pajamas and drive to the  store. It's times like these I realize that being independent is overrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Epilogue: 8:03 pm: I found a can of 'Maryland-Style Crab' soup in the top shelf of my pantry that I apparently bought this summer (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what was I thinking?&lt;/span&gt;). It wasn't good, but it was enough to fuel me for an evening of classic rock and CPA review flash cards (Yay 100.3 for keeping me alert, because the test I'm studying for now is so boring that I've been increasing my procrasti-showers and escape-naps)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-9062594268466278866?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/9062594268466278866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/wish-list.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/9062594268466278866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/9062594268466278866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/wish-list.html' title='Wish list:'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6118029863592413671</id><published>2012-01-22T18:17:00.005-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T18:27:54.568-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mind Over Matter</title><content type='html'>I am not sick.&lt;br /&gt;I am not sick.&lt;br /&gt;I am not sick.&lt;br /&gt;I am not sick.&lt;br /&gt;I am not sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;I am not sick. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;I am not sick. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;I am not sick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-size:78%;" &gt;I am not sick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Fine, I'll admit it. I'm sick, dammit. &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;(Tangent: why does &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;damn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt; have an 'n' in it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;, but when it becomes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;dammit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt; the 'n' disappears? The english language confuses me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I guess mind over matter doesn't work when germs are in the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, enjoy the tongue-in-cheek rendition of the male vs. female brain I found while looking for a serious picture of the brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://frank.mtsu.edu/%7Estudskl/braingen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 563px; height: 417px;" src="http://frank.mtsu.edu/%7Estudskl/braingen.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6118029863592413671?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6118029863592413671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/mind-over-matter.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6118029863592413671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6118029863592413671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/mind-over-matter.html' title='Mind Over Matter'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6267468528252990090</id><published>2012-01-21T07:16:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T07:19:56.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy Day, My Way</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thenewmontreal.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/caillebotte-paris-a-rainy-day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 555px; height: 415px;" src="http://thenewmontreal.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/caillebotte-paris-a-rainy-day.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to music in bed, with my laptop on my stomach and a bowl of oatmeal balanced on my chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps a bit unconventional, but it's working for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6267468528252990090?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6267468528252990090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/rainy-day-my-way.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6267468528252990090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6267468528252990090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/rainy-day-my-way.html' title='Rainy Day, My Way'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7037384793156851586</id><published>2012-01-20T17:40:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T17:43:57.447-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Sleep-Related Question</title><content type='html'>Is it bad to take Nyquil purely for the purpose of sleeping through the night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your answer is "&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yes, you will die. DO NOT DO IT!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;" I haven't actually done it yet (so chill out), but I am strongly considering it for tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sanks. Le management.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7037384793156851586?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7037384793156851586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/another-sleep-related-question.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7037384793156851586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7037384793156851586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/another-sleep-related-question.html' title='Another Sleep-Related Question'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4971217551132306401</id><published>2012-01-17T22:09:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T22:12:45.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Controversial Bedtime Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.atomicbooks.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/g/o/gofucktosleep.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 500px;" src="http://www.atomicbooks.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/g/o/gofucktosleep.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is a real book. I think should buy it and read it to myself before bed.&lt;br /&gt;[Maybe then my brain will get the hint]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4971217551132306401?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4971217551132306401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/controversial-bedtime-story.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4971217551132306401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4971217551132306401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/controversial-bedtime-story.html' title='Controversial Bedtime Story'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1931607092871549355</id><published>2012-01-14T15:02:00.005-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-27T15:58:43.545-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1931607092871549355?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1931607092871549355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/nutshell-est.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1931607092871549355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1931607092871549355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/nutshell-est.html' title=''/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4042214875856378618</id><published>2012-01-13T23:18:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-13T23:23:09.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Song I Like</title><content type='html'>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UVNT4wvIGY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has a hint of the Shins (and/or Sting) and a xylophone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello mellow. Happy Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disclaimer: I didn't watch the video, so watch at your own risk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4042214875856378618?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4042214875856378618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/another-song-i-like.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4042214875856378618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4042214875856378618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/another-song-i-like.html' title='Another Song I Like'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7997952929944584987</id><published>2012-01-08T16:18:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T16:33:28.938-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Down What I Want To Say Out Loud</title><content type='html'>Ladies and gentlemen, the following post will not be nice. But it's true:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While checking Facebook earlier today, my news feed informed me that a college friend had posted an album of her and her relatively-new boyfriend on a Caribbean cruise. I like looking at other people's pictures, so I clicked on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girl is not the most beautiful creature to ever walk the planet earth, but I'd consider her among the upper-middle class looks-wise. Boyfriend: ugly. I don't even know where to start, but I couldn't stare at his pictures for more than a few seconds without feeling uncomfortable. Overweight, chinless, bad hair cut, ill-fitting clothes. Let's just say if I spotted him from across the room, I'd only give him a second look to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, getting around to the purpose of this post- if I were to come across this girl in person, I would sit her down on one knee (grandma style) and say, from the bottom of my heart, "honey, there's nothing wrong with being single."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;But now that I've typed it here, I don't have to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://yesteryearsnews.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/grandmotherteachesgirltoknitb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 352px; height: 400px;" src="http://yesteryearsnews.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/grandmotherteachesgirltoknitb.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;"Sorry I'm not sorry, grand-daughter"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7997952929944584987?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7997952929944584987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/writing-down-what-i-want-to-say-out.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7997952929944584987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7997952929944584987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/writing-down-what-i-want-to-say-out.html' title='Writing Down What I Want To Say Out Loud'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3883694885810527282</id><published>2012-01-05T18:16:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T18:22:07.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2011, in summary</title><content type='html'>Today after work, I decided to take a nap before study time (clocking in at 6:15 am can take a toll...). Before I drifted off, I decided to reminisce about this year, as I do at the end of every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was then I realized that 'this' year ended five days ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can think of no better summary of 2011 than the above example.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3883694885810527282?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3883694885810527282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/2011-in-summary.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3883694885810527282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3883694885810527282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2012/01/2011-in-summary.html' title='2011, in summary'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-914012347948894268</id><published>2011-12-30T20:25:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T20:28:27.630-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog Cheater</title><content type='html'>I am officially cheater. I wrote a post for another blog. How could I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if you like cookies, you can check out my cheater post &lt;a href="http://thedailybinge.com/2011/12/30/guest-writer-danas-chocolate-chip-peppermint-cookies/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy 2012!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-914012347948894268?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/914012347948894268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/12/blog-cheater.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/914012347948894268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/914012347948894268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/12/blog-cheater.html' title='Blog Cheater'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3603628400820431316</id><published>2011-12-20T20:17:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-20T20:22:34.462-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Riddle Me This:</title><content type='html'>If a Hanukkah falls in the forest and nobody hears it, does it still make a sound?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I mean to say, is that without a menorah, candles, dreidels, gelt, presents or other human beings, is it still Hanukkah? I guess technically yes - but sitting alone in my apartment, wearing sweatpants and watching CPA lectures, I'm not feeling particularly festive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to next year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3603628400820431316?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3603628400820431316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/12/riddle-me-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3603628400820431316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3603628400820431316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/12/riddle-me-this.html' title='Riddle Me This:'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1231379518402022607</id><published>2011-12-17T08:48:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T08:55:01.434-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Probably Not the Best Idea</title><content type='html'>I'm about to head out to a very crowded mall the Saturday before Christmas to complete my holiday shopping (and maybe do some self-shopping if the crowds aren't too insane). Probably not the best idea, but it's all the time I got, and I think I could use a half-day break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS- does anyone know where I can buy Hanukkah candy canes (kind of a contradictory treat, no?)? I promised them to my co-workers thinking I'd seen them somewhere, but I can't remember where. (I guess the elf-man in the photo can't remember either)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lolzombie.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/tumblr_lw1ylttApF1qzfsnio1_500.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 263px;" src="http://lolzombie.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/tumblr_lw1ylttApF1qzfsnio1_500.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1231379518402022607?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1231379518402022607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/12/probably-not-best-idea.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1231379518402022607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1231379518402022607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/12/probably-not-best-idea.html' title='Probably Not the Best Idea'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1563285423817538461</id><published>2011-12-10T13:48:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T13:51:59.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'>25%</title><content type='html'>Cheers:  I am 25% of the way to being a CPA.&lt;br /&gt;Jeers: Eventually I have to tackle that other 75%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to take it easy for a day or two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1563285423817538461?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1563285423817538461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/12/25.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1563285423817538461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1563285423817538461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/12/25.html' title='25%'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3491989063569761508</id><published>2011-12-05T19:33:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-05T19:41:19.857-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not that tired and I don't mind studying that much</title><content type='html'>I'm still alive! Hello there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contrary to what you might be thinking (and if there are no &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you's&lt;/span&gt;, than I may just be talking to myself), I'm not failing to post because I'm busier than normal. In fact, the mega-test is over (well, sort of- there's still 3 more but I don't think they'll be as bad). I sensed that the blog was getting too themed (to summarize every recent entry: &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"&gt;I am tired. I hate studying&lt;/span&gt;). You don't care, and I get that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to try to think of something creative to write about. Until then, adios.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3491989063569761508?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3491989063569761508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/12/im-not-that-tired-and-i-dont-mind.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3491989063569761508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3491989063569761508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/12/im-not-that-tired-and-i-dont-mind.html' title='I&apos;m not that tired and I don&apos;t mind studying that much'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1324595551046169718</id><published>2011-11-21T20:10:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-21T20:17:14.916-08:00</updated><title type='text'>As Usual</title><content type='html'>I am the most cynical in the bunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my test draws ever closer, I am convinced that I am going to fail. My friends/coworkers, on the other hand, are full of positivities such as "of course you'll pass!" and "you're going to do great!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, it would be kind of rude of them to say, "well obviously you're going to fail."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I will remain the &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;shoulder-devil*&lt;/span&gt; to keep myself from getting over-confident (which isn't really a serious risk at this point, but still).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.childcostumes.com/toddler-little-devil-costume.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 245px;" src="http://images.childcostumes.com/toddler-little-devil-costume.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*There is a previous entry about my relationship with Shoulder Devil, if you care to scroll back and find it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1324595551046169718?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1324595551046169718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/as-usual.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1324595551046169718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1324595551046169718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/as-usual.html' title='As Usual'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-2765205859754927148</id><published>2011-11-15T20:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T20:38:22.861-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Basic Math</title><content type='html'>12 hour Tuesday + practice tests = fugeddaboutit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lose-weight-feel-great.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/feeling-tired-woozy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 364px;" src="http://www.lose-weight-feel-great.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/feeling-tired-woozy.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-2765205859754927148?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/2765205859754927148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/basic-math.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2765205859754927148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2765205859754927148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/basic-math.html' title='Basic Math'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4405256826497925084</id><published>2011-11-12T22:10:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-12T22:37:31.291-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Are we there yet?</title><content type='html'>And finally, a real post. I've been trying to study all day, but I've gotten to the point where my head hurts and my eyes hurt and I don't really give a shit (which probably means I shouldn't be staring at a computer screen, but I digress)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't work Fridays, but lately I've been going into the office to study (when I stay home I get too distracted). A college friend was passing through LA, so I met up with her during our lunch break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This friend and I are of a similar breed. We worked hard in college and got good, (reasonably) well-paying jobs immediately after. We talked about how it was nice to make money and have jobs when so many people don't. We acknowledged that there are many college grads that would love to be in our position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we both admitted that working life isn't all we thought it would be. Now that we're 6 months into real life, we've hit the "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is this it&lt;/span&gt;?" rut. It's lonlier and more tiring than we imagined it would be. When we fantasized about the glamorous working world, we left out little details such as sitting in traffic, coming home to an empty (and sometimes messy) apartment, and having to figure out what to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike college, real life has no orientation. You are not handed a pamphlet filled with clubs to join, and your neighbors won't knock on your door wanting to hang out (or ever introduce themselves, for that matter). Social plans are hard to come by and take a lot of effort and advanced planning (making Saturday plans on Tuesday? What happened to making saturday plans on saturday, like 2 hours before?) And on weeknight - forget it. After 11 hours of work, socializing does not sound like fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another concept, one that only working people understand: working people do not get to choose how they spend their time. In college, you get breaks between classes, and you get to study as much or as little as you want. If you need a break, take it. At work, if you need a break, you buy a coffee and keep working. You don't have the option to not work at work.  Every day is a long day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fairly certain that we are still in transit. Working life is different, but I suspect that our real problem is that our social lives haven't had a chance to catch up with our professional lives. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4405256826497925084?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4405256826497925084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/are-we-there-yet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4405256826497925084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4405256826497925084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/are-we-there-yet.html' title='Are we there yet?'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4676606055631506839</id><published>2011-11-09T22:44:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T22:46:27.907-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Photo of the Day, because words escape me...</title><content type='html'>Forget being dog tired. I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cat&lt;/span&gt; tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.scicomp.ucsd.edu/%7Emholst/personal/images_cats/tired.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 386px; height: 257px;" src="http://www.scicomp.ucsd.edu/%7Emholst/personal/images_cats/tired.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4676606055631506839?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4676606055631506839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/photo-of-day-because-words-escape-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4676606055631506839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4676606055631506839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/photo-of-day-because-words-escape-me.html' title='Photo of the Day, because words escape me...'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-708301484334515549</id><published>2011-11-01T22:24:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T22:28:10.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Google-Bots Strike again</title><content type='html'>Yes, I should be studying, but my brain informed me that it is closed for the night and will not allow any more information to be shoved into it. So naturally, I googled 'best photo ever taken,' and get this:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://cdn.buzznet.com/assets/users16/celebgossip/default/best-photo-zach-galifianakis-ever--large-msg-130270771564.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 346px;" src="http://cdn.buzznet.com/assets/users16/celebgossip/default/best-photo-zach-galifianakis-ever--large-msg-130270771564.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is how everyone bathes, isn't it? Time for a bath of my own (ie shower), and then bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-708301484334515549?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/708301484334515549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/google-bots-strike-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/708301484334515549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/708301484334515549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/11/google-bots-strike-again.html' title='Google-Bots Strike again'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1445786171466077820</id><published>2011-10-31T23:34:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T23:43:30.811-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HI</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://babozeirasinuteis.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/happy_halloween_1024x768.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 577px; height: 433px;" src="http://babozeirasinuteis.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/happy_halloween_1024x768.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;First order of business - Happy Halloween! (I googled 'Happy Halloween' and the computer-bots found me this picture).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I dressed up as a girl in sweat pants studying for the CPA exam after a long day at work. I'd say it was a very authentic-looking costume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is November! A tip to the gentlemen: Don't not shave. Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1445786171466077820?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1445786171466077820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/10/hi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1445786171466077820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1445786171466077820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/10/hi.html' title='HI'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4574876590023100453</id><published>2011-10-30T21:08:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-30T21:21:11.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Easy How-To Guide</title><content type='html'>Ten Steps to be Crazy-Efficient (emphasis on the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;crazy&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made the executive decision that I needed more study time at night, so I pushed my start time at work up to 7am. That's right folks, when you are probably still asleep, I'm already working on my spreadsheets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I didn't really want to compromise my 6:30 wake up time, so I decided that instead I would become crazy-efficient. Here are the steps:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Pick out all your outfits for the week on Sunday*. Yes, I currently have all my outfits and shooz lined up in my closet, so when that zombie-me reaches into the closet in the morning darkenss, no fashion mistakes will be made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Live really really ridiculously close to work. It eliminates the variable of traffic. After work is another story, but let's not get into that because it puts me in a bad mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. In the morning. Wake up, wash face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. While face is drying, eat vitamins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. While chewing vitamins, put on face lotion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. While face lotion is drying, and vitamins are done being chewed, brush teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. ESSENTIAL STEP: Brushing your teeth only requires one hand, so while one hand brushes teeth, use the other to make your bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Get dressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Grab pre-packed lunch from fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Once at work, clock in and pat yourself on the back for getting out the door in 15 minutes, Then eat a tiny bowl of oatmeal at your desk. Then, realize that you are still hungry, and eat 1 or 2 more packets. Then work 10 1/2 hours, come home, study, sleep, repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope that was informative. Now back to my studiez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*This only applies if you work at a place that cares how you dress. If not, less steps for you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4574876590023100453?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4574876590023100453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/10/easy-how-to-guide.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4574876590023100453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4574876590023100453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/10/easy-how-to-guide.html' title='An Easy How-To Guide'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6876385291662318015</id><published>2011-10-21T10:55:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-21T23:05:53.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hopefully the grossest post I ever write</title><content type='html'>I am trying to figure out how to plunge a toilet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also trying to decide whether I would rather pass out or throw up if it should become necessary, though the latter wouldn't do much to help the mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My options: continue to try and plunge this fucking toilet or go back to studying for my fucking test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. Grosssssss. Ugh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Epilogue: It got worse. So much worse that I won't even tell you what happened. As my roommate said when I told him the story: "shit happens." Yes it does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6876385291662318015?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6876385291662318015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/10/hopefully-grossest-post-i-ever-write.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6876385291662318015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6876385291662318015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/10/hopefully-grossest-post-i-ever-write.html' title='Hopefully the grossest post I ever write'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-710302970498973828</id><published>2011-10-14T09:55:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-14T09:59:23.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Song of the day/week/2 weeks</title><content type='html'>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nq2ekIMMYXA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard this song on the radio while driving. Honestly, the first minute isn't that exciting, but then going into a modernish take on 50s do-wop, and THEN ends with a Journey-ish sound. It goes everywhere (it's a long song), which is why it is my song of the day/week/2 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warning: I didn't watch the video, so I don't know if it's the real music video or something weird.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-710302970498973828?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/710302970498973828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/10/song-of-dayweek2-weeks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/710302970498973828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/710302970498973828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/10/song-of-dayweek2-weeks.html' title='Song of the day/week/2 weeks'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4241429511956324557</id><published>2011-10-08T00:21:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T00:30:06.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgia?</title><content type='html'>Sorry it's been, like, forever since I've written anything. The part of my brain that has profound thoughts and ideas has been on vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my birthday. This evening, as I was eating dinner with friends, they asked if I tend to get nostalgic before or on my birthday, and at that moment, I realized that I don't. My nostalgia-time occurs on New Years Eve. I'm not sure why (a collective milestone for everyone at the same time?), but it's a lot easier to reflect upon a calendar year than the 365 days that occur between birthdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing about getting older is that I have to remember to mentally update my age in my 'mental personal profile' so I don't accidentally tell them how old I used to be when they ask. Kind of like the first three months of a new year, I often write the previous year when I write the date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm. I will try to think more often so I can return to blogging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4241429511956324557?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4241429511956324557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/10/nostalgia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4241429511956324557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4241429511956324557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/10/nostalgia.html' title='Nostalgia?'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4171769175970474719</id><published>2011-09-17T00:18:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-17T00:20:47.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Isn't it Strange?</title><content type='html'>I spend a good deal of time putting on nice clothes and makeup, but I feel best when I'm in pajamas with no makeup.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4171769175970474719?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4171769175970474719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/09/isnt-it-strange.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4171769175970474719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4171769175970474719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/09/isnt-it-strange.html' title='Isn&apos;t it Strange?'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-594260226615941357</id><published>2011-09-16T01:50:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T02:17:12.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Progression</title><content type='html'>Yes, I know it's late, but my day is just winding down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I forget how recently I started working. It's been a little over three months, but feels like longer (I guess settling into a routine has that effect).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I re-visited a project file that I'd worked on during my first month, and it looked...pretty shitty. Disorganized, incomplete, lots of cross-outs and eraser smears: it looked like a kindergartener had put in a lot of effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember putting a ton of time into that particular project and being pretty proud of the result, but after doing the same process a dozen or so more times, I've raised my standards (as have my supervisors).  It suddenly struck me how much progress I've made. I no longer have to refer to my 'passwords' document constantly or check my notes to figure out how to do certain tasks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling competent every now and then is nice. Until yesterday, I was so focused on all the things I still still have to learn/improve on, that I hadn't considered the things I've already learned. Now that I'm no longer brand-spanking-new around the office, I'm trying to shift away from the 'just stay afloat' mentality (try really hard, ask lots of questions, take lots of notes, and accept that despite your efforts, you will make mistakes) in favor of the 'impress the boss(es)' mentality (try really hard, ask some questions, and do quality work). So basically, I'm giving myself a little less slack. In return, I need to also metaphorically pat myself on the back every once in a while for my progress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-594260226615941357?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/594260226615941357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/09/progression.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/594260226615941357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/594260226615941357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/09/progression.html' title='Progression'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-2315139044402418329</id><published>2011-09-11T16:43:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T16:54:38.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Lost</title><content type='html'>This weekend I had a craving to go shopping (ie. expand the corporate wardrobe).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday: attempted to find the desired shopping destination, got lost, didn't go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been a common theme since moving to LA. Every time I venture out of my neighborhood, I get lost. This discourages me from wanting to venture out of my neighborhood again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I set out for mall #2. A while into my drive, I realized that I had probably passed the mall. Seriously? As I turned down some random street to head back toward home, I realized that I had NOTHING better to do than drive around and figure out what's where in this very large city (note- do this at a day/time when traffic is light or you will probably kill yourself). So I drove. And then I drove some more. Eventually, I found the mall (accidentally).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shopped, bought some clothes. It was nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way back from the mall, I decided to take a different street that I thought would take me to the grocery store I wanted to go to. Of course, the street suddenly got narrow and changed names. In the spirit of exploration, I continued my drive to nowhere, and eventually found a street that lead me to a street that lead me to the grocery store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I accepted the fact that I wasn't necessarily taking the shortest or most direct route to my destination, It was actually pretty relaxing. I guess there are lessons to be learned from lazy Sundays.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-2315139044402418329?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/2315139044402418329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/09/get-lost.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2315139044402418329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2315139044402418329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/09/get-lost.html' title='Get Lost'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6336835098630712148</id><published>2011-09-08T19:14:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T19:26:51.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have you met her?</title><content type='html'>I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine, though you probably already know someone just like her:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is what I call a D.P: Difficult Person. It is nearly impossible to make plans with DP. If you do make plans, they'll probably be postponed once or twice, or just canceled completely (ie. don't hold your breath). This is because DP can never keep her schedule straight. It's not until after she makes plans that she'll remember that she'd already scheduled something else at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend, I tried to make plans with DP and two other friends. We compared schedules and decided that Sunday at 4pm would work for everyone. On Sunday, three hours before the agreed plan was to be executed, DP notified us all that she completely forgot about her other plans that started at 2pm and would go all night. So, with great difficulty, we changed our plans to the next day in order to accommodate DP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day arrived, and DP was nowhere to be found. Once we were able to get in touch with her, she informed us that she had other plans and wouldn't be able to make it. We figured, since she was already 45 minutes late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to think DP is one-of-a-kind, but my rational mind thinks not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6336835098630712148?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6336835098630712148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/09/have-you-met-her.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6336835098630712148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6336835098630712148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/09/have-you-met-her.html' title='Have you met her?'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-2881639396454299700</id><published>2011-09-03T11:29:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T11:35:30.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guaranteed Party-Killer</title><content type='html'>This handy trick is guaranteed to kill the energy at any party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step 1: Invite many guests to your apartment complex for a get-together&lt;br /&gt;         2: Partake in lively conversation and lose track of time.&lt;br /&gt;         3: At some point, sneak away and call a towing company to remove their cars.&lt;br /&gt;         4: At the end of the evening, when your friends try to leave, the parking spots where their   cars once were parked will be empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Of course, this isn't really what happened. No malice was involved from the apartment-owners. I'm not actually sure what happened because my car was the only one that hadn't yet been towed, so I booked it the hell out of there....should probably check up on what happened with the others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I can understand why we don't all get together that often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-2881639396454299700?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/2881639396454299700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/09/guaranteed-party-killer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2881639396454299700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2881639396454299700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/09/guaranteed-party-killer.html' title='Guaranteed Party-Killer'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-2045676699719177434</id><published>2011-08-29T00:13:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T00:16:27.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Smart" Technology</title><content type='html'>Dear "Smart" Phone,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many components to intelligence. One of those components is social intelligence.&lt;br /&gt;So, even though you knew it was my ex-anniversary today, would it have killed you to keep that information to yourself? Nice touch with the fancy alert, by the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dumb owner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-2045676699719177434?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/2045676699719177434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/smart-technology.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2045676699719177434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2045676699719177434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/smart-technology.html' title='&quot;Smart&quot; Technology'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3904810775752062431</id><published>2011-08-26T15:22:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T01:30:45.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'>None...Taken?</title><content type='html'>A "No Offense But--" statement is pretty much always followed by something offensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a 2 month hiatus, I decided to come home for the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;While cruising the freeway, I heard the following song lyrics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Now I think it’s time, hey shawty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt; I hope you don’t take this the wrong way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt; Girl you look better with the lights off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the type of thing one can say about oneself, jokingly (ie: turn off the lights because operating-room lights do not set the mood), but if someone said that to me, I'd probably book it out of there pretty quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3904810775752062431?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3904810775752062431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/weekend-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3904810775752062431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3904810775752062431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/weekend-thoughts.html' title='None...Taken?'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-2957783713605713498</id><published>2011-08-23T19:35:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T19:43:04.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Non-vague</title><content type='html'>Okay, fine, I will break my vow of vagueness to tell you about two amazing songs I discovered in the last few days (they're not super new, but I've been living under a rock). Copy and paste the links -- embedding a video seemed like it would require more effort/energy than I have at this point in the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rH_7_XRfTMs&lt;br /&gt;Sprawl II - Arcade Fire. Kind of Electro-poppy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IwRvuwUO-DI&lt;br /&gt;Stay Young, Go Dancing- Death Cab for Cutie&lt;br /&gt;Pretty and sad, almost sounds like Elliott Smith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easy listening at its finest, folks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-2957783713605713498?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/2957783713605713498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/non-vague.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2957783713605713498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2957783713605713498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/non-vague.html' title='Non-vague'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4374693747042704155</id><published>2011-08-20T19:15:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T19:55:25.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Dressed Up</title><content type='html'>I got a manicure/pedicure today with my sister (happy birthday!), a cousin (/second cousin?) visiting from Philly, and a few of their friends. I don't think I've &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ever&lt;/span&gt; gotten the full treatment before. It was a fun get-together, but it reminded me of something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll explain by recounting a traumatic teenage memory:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;I was 17. I had recently become captain of the song squad (NOT cheer), which significantly enhanced my social status (I chalk it up to increased exposure...I certainly wasn't trying any harder). One day, a very popular boy personally invited me to his birthday party. (This was back before Facebook, so invitations were a big deal). It was going to be a big house party on a Saturday night, and more likely than not there was to be a good deal of drinking and drugs. I didn't party much, and wasn't into drinking or drugs, but I was pretty stoked just to be included. This could be my big social debut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Two of my songleader friends were invited as well, so we decided we'd all go together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Saturday night arrived. I'd recently taken a class at my dance studio about performance makeup (ie- makeup that can be seen from 50 feet away), and I found that these skills translated wonderfully for party makeup. Once my face was plastered on, hair ironed flat as a board, and outfit assembled, I called my friend to get an ETA. No answer. I fiddled around on the computer for a while, wasting time. My phone wasn't ringing. I tried calling a few times over the next 3 or 4 hours. 'Maybe we're being fashionably late on purpose' I thought. More time passed. My mom saw me sitting on the couch, all dressed up, and asked me when I was going out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Finally, at around midnight, my friend called. She was already at the party, and sounded drunk. "I thought you said you were meeting us here," she slurred. Lies. I knew that I'd never in a thousand years agree to show up at a party by myself and find my friends in the crowd. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"Just come meet us," she suggested, "but just to warn you, I don't know how long we're staying." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;There was no way I was going over there alone. I hung up the phone, and thought about how much I'd been looking forward to this party. I walked by a mirror and became acutely aware of the fact that I'd spent hours getting ready, only to spend the night sitting in the living room doing nothing.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;My mom offered to take a walk with me, so I could at least feel like I'd left the house. Good idea in theory, but I looked way to whore-y to leave the house and not go to a party.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All dressed up with nowhere to go. Ever since that traumatic Saturday night many years ago, I've been hypersensitive to this phenomenon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to today: after getting our nails done, all the girls stood in a circle discussing their evening plans (parties/weddings) and how their nails would match their outfits. I realized that, while my nails were all dressed up, I had nowhere to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I was dropped back at my apartment, I took off my 'I-put-effort-into-my-appearance' outfit in favor of pajamas. Now, I'm sitting on the couch, watching TV in my pajamas, hoping that my nicely dressed-up nails survive long enough for someone to actually see them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4374693747042704155?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4374693747042704155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/all-dressed-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4374693747042704155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4374693747042704155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/all-dressed-up.html' title='All Dressed Up'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6909225776936910324</id><published>2011-08-18T20:30:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T20:39:50.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trauma Averted</title><content type='html'>Today was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to be Birthday Cake Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BCT happens once a month at the office to celebrate the birthdays of everyone born that month. It consists of six different Baskin Robbins ice cream cakes in various flavors (and the break from work that goes with it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The festivities were scheduled for 3pm today. Because I am me, I was counting on BCT to be the highlight of my work week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 2:45 pm, the office received a mass email that the Baskin Robbins employee in charge of our cake order had gone on vacation and not told anyone else about the order. So no cakes were made. Instead, there were two very small containers of unwashed grapes and strawberries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what did I do? I came home from work and concocted a mint cookie crunch/brownie/chocolate banana split. For dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Philosophical tid-bit of the day: When life hands you strawberries and grapes...make a banana split.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tGPnk6fMLow/TNWOK_qrVLI/AAAAAAAAAH8/hhxwDd2qTMs/s400/f8de573157b9513f_ice-cream-rs-1817861-l.larger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tGPnk6fMLow/TNWOK_qrVLI/AAAAAAAAAH8/hhxwDd2qTMs/s400/f8de573157b9513f_ice-cream-rs-1817861-l.larger.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6909225776936910324?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6909225776936910324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/traumatic.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6909225776936910324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6909225776936910324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/traumatic.html' title='Trauma Averted'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tGPnk6fMLow/TNWOK_qrVLI/AAAAAAAAAH8/hhxwDd2qTMs/s72-c/f8de573157b9513f_ice-cream-rs-1817861-l.larger.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-8862186252296274413</id><published>2011-08-15T22:05:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T22:05:52.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Monday + surprise overtime = poisonous cocktail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No hope of a coherent post today. Sorry guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-8862186252296274413?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/8862186252296274413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/monday-surprise-overtime-poisonous.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8862186252296274413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8862186252296274413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/monday-surprise-overtime-poisonous.html' title=''/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-333740476600247960</id><published>2011-08-12T14:35:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-12T14:40:37.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you hear that sound?</title><content type='html'>That's the sound of my social life/free time taking it its last few breaths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got the notification that I've been approved by the CPA board to sit for exams.&lt;br /&gt;Which means that I can/should/must start studying for the exams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye free nights. Goodbye lazy weekends. I will miss you for the next 9-12 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-333740476600247960?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/333740476600247960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/do-you-hear-that-sound.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/333740476600247960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/333740476600247960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/do-you-hear-that-sound.html' title='Do you hear that sound?'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-5795396377195374356</id><published>2011-08-09T19:28:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T20:20:46.961-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Editor-in-Chief</title><content type='html'>You may have noticed that this blog never goes into detail about my day-to-day life. This is no accident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a kid, my mom used to pick me up from school. Every afternoon, she'd ask me, "what did you do in school today?" I always had one of two answers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Stuff."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Nothing."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;I don't think she had much time to be bothered by my response (or lack thereof), because one of my sisters would always capitalize on the moment of silence and began a lengthy explanation of her day that lasted well beyond the ride home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, 'nothing' or 'stuff' was my answer to a lot of questions when I was a kid. My mom joked that I should write for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vague&lt;/span&gt; Magazine (a take-off on Vogue- I was quite the fashion plate back in the day).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm (relatively) grown up, this blog is my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vague&lt;/span&gt; Magazine, but I'm not just a writer. I'm the editor-in-chief. My posts are centered around ideas and theories rather than specific events. Notice that, while I go into detail, I never go into detail (example: the previous post. I've already been asked what song I was talking about, but I think that's beside the point).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend and reader whose opinion I value once thanked me for creating a blog that isn't weighed down by details. Ironically, in most aspects of my life, I'm extremely detail-oriented. Just not here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So readers, I hope you vaguely enjoy reading about the world inside my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Editor-In-Chief&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-5795396377195374356?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/5795396377195374356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/editor-in-chief.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5795396377195374356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5795396377195374356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/editor-in-chief.html' title='Editor-in-Chief'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-8779984801056438407</id><published>2011-08-08T22:01:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T22:18:15.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Music School</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;There are two schools of music:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Songs that you don't really care for at first. Maybe it's a sound you aren't used to. Over time, you grow to like it. Over more time, you grow to like it a lot. Occasionally, when you hear the song, you think about the fact that you used to not like it and wonder what was wrong with you back then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Songs that you love immdiately- no questions asked. Upon first listen, you stop dead in your tracks and say to yourself (either aloud or not, depending on where you are), 'holy shit, this song is amazing!' Then you listen to it 4 or 5 more times, just to make sure your ears aren't deceiving you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got #2'd.&lt;br /&gt;Location: stationary bike (yes, I do occasionally cheat on the elliptical)&lt;br /&gt;Time: approximately 9pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very sad that this song is too new to be on the radio and I don't  have an ipod plug-in because loud music+driving=my nirvana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5fb23SCiY5g/TcGRsWUaUNI/AAAAAAAAAIM/OWBR-WBJhBI/s1600/Graphic__Music_-Headphones-_Heart.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 288px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5fb23SCiY5g/TcGRsWUaUNI/AAAAAAAAAIM/OWBR-WBJhBI/s1600/Graphic__Music_-Headphones-_Heart.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-8779984801056438407?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/8779984801056438407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/music-school.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8779984801056438407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8779984801056438407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/music-school.html' title='Music School'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5fb23SCiY5g/TcGRsWUaUNI/AAAAAAAAAIM/OWBR-WBJhBI/s72-c/Graphic__Music_-Headphones-_Heart.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-487570965373805451</id><published>2011-08-07T01:39:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T01:47:05.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Highlight</title><content type='html'>Roommate has a lady friend visiting from out of town. I anticipated feeling like a total third wheel. Not the case. We've spent the last two nights eating way too much, watching hilarious television shows and youtubes and sitting on our porch (I do allow them alone time during the day, so I'm not a total cock block).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was fun. Roommate decided that we wanted to record a drunk history video (youtube it). To create a proper drunk history, you need to get REALLY drunk. And he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The video was funny- a somewhat historically accurate story about 'nam. Then it got late, and lady friend wanted to go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stayed on the couch for a while. Through the living room wall, I distinctly heard roommate say, "there's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;no way&lt;/span&gt; it's gonna happen tonight."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet lady friend is not pleased. But I am quite amused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-487570965373805451?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/487570965373805451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/highlight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/487570965373805451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/487570965373805451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/highlight.html' title='Highlight'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7888298678709820299</id><published>2011-08-02T22:33:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T23:42:51.949-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Total Immersion</title><content type='html'>My first year of college, it was required that each student take a "Freshman Foundations" course. I chose a sociology course, taught by an existentialist professor who spent the semester convincing the class that free will was a myth and our desires were entirely driven by advertisements and the media. Don't get me wrong, it was a great class, but I took some of what he said with a grain of salt. (Like that I have no control over my thoughts).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to about two weeks ago. I was relaxing on the porch with my roommates, and one told an interesting story&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;He said that Chris Brown had accidentally slipped the double-mint gum slogan into his song, "Forever," and instead of a lawsuit, Wrigley decided to make Brown a spokesman. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.freakingnews.com/pictures/13500/Doublemint-Gum-13832.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 327px; height: 398px;" src="http://www.freakingnews.com/pictures/13500/Doublemint-Gum-13832.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wiki'd the story for accuracy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;"Forever" is actually an extended version of a commercial jingle for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doublemint" title="Doublemint"&gt;Doublemint&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt; gum, commissioned by an advertising company working for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wm._Wrigley_Jr._Company" title="Wm. Wrigley Jr. Company" class="mw-redirect"&gt;Wrigley&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;.  Brown first created the short version for the commercial, then extended  and amended it into a full song during a recording session in February  2008, which was paid for by the gum company.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" id="cite_ref-wsj_1-1" class="reference"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forever_%28Chris_Brown_song%29#cite_note-wsj-1"&gt;&lt;span&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;2&lt;span&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wha? So a song was commissioned by an ad company? Interesting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to today at work. Some of my team members were talking about how Pitbull's song "Give Me Everything" was so awful because he rhymed the word Kodak with...(wait for it)...Kodak. Google the lyrics. They are dumb. I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, at work we have access to lots of inside information (what ad agencies work with which companies, contract terms and compensation information). We did some research, and, sure enough, Pitbull has a contract with Kodak. Burned again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have noticed an increase of ads in places ads shouldn't be. In a TV show, the camera will zoom in on whatever brand of drink the characters are drinking or the type of car they're driving in the epic chase scene (is the fact that a Ford Focus out-drove the evil vampires relevant?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The line between ads and other forms of entertainment is blurring. (One point for existentialist professor.) However, despite what has been shoved down my throat through the radio and TV waves, I still have no desire to chew double-mint gum or use/buy Kodak products. Let's call this one a draw.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7888298678709820299?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7888298678709820299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/total-immersion.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7888298678709820299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7888298678709820299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/08/total-immersion.html' title='Total Immersion'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6183387708098813191</id><published>2011-07-29T21:59:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-29T22:12:24.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Book 2</title><content type='html'>I had to work today. I normally have Fridays off, but thanks to Tuesday's accident, I had the choice to either make up the hours or use my paid vacation time (Tuesday was no vacation, so I decided to make up the hours).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. At some point during my 10 hours at the office, I was reminded that I graduated college 9 weeks ago. 'So I guess this is the next chapter,' I thought to myself, while in my think-tank (the bathroom). Then, as I often do, I interrupted my thoughts with a contradictory thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'My post-college life is totally different. So different, in fact, the two parts don't belong in the same book.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So instead of life being one book, I think life should be a series of books. Overall, the series will have a single protagonist (me) and a few similar supporting characters, but each book will put these characters in completely different situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, I need to do a better job at keeping in touch with the supporting characters in my personal book series.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy weekend. Tomorrow's agenda - rent a car in preparation for my personal carmageddon (car in shop for the week)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6183387708098813191?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6183387708098813191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/book-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6183387708098813191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6183387708098813191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/book-2.html' title='Book 2'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7604222094055996623</id><published>2011-07-26T23:16:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T23:23:20.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Series of Firsts</title><content type='html'>Today marks my first time missing work. Why? Because today also marks my first car accident (nearly 7 years with a perfect record...then I move to LA and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt; happens).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll admit, it was my fault. I was zoning out on the way to work and didn't see the car in my blind spot. It was an expensive mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I spent my day off filing claims and getting repair estimates. Fun stuff. Unfortunately, the shop can't fix my car until the parts they have to order arrive. Fortunately, my car is still drivable (though very sad looking). Until Monday, I'll be driving around town in a front bumper-less car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry JUD. Lesson learned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7604222094055996623?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7604222094055996623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/series-of-firsts.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7604222094055996623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7604222094055996623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/series-of-firsts.html' title='A Series of Firsts'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7230711461299663298</id><published>2011-07-21T06:41:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T06:57:38.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>M.I.A.</title><content type='html'>Today's post is sleep-related (yeah, another one), but, surprisingly, not dream-related (I can hear you cheering on the other end).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Sunday when I woke up, something felt....off. It was a beautiful, traffic-free day, but something wasn't right. I gnashed my teeth together a few times (not really, but I've never had an excuse to use the word &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;gnash&lt;/span&gt; so just go with it), and realized that I wasn't wearing my retainers. Mind you, I usually don't wear them, but I was 100% certain that I'd had them in when I went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I began a frantic (or as frantic as one can be on a lazy Sunday) search in my sheets. No luck. I called my mom, who advised me to look under the bed. Sure enough, about 4 feet under the bed was a blue hunk of plastic. My beloved. I was a little weirded out, but oddly impressed at my sleep-throwing abilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to this morning. I woke up feeling a little breezier than normal. I got out of bed, and realized I wasn't wearing a shirt (thanks, mirror). I guess sleep-stripping is the next level up from sleep-throwing. I'm going on a camping trip this weekend, which could get interesting if this trend continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will I sleep-do next? I'll keep you posted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7230711461299663298?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7230711461299663298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/mia.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7230711461299663298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7230711461299663298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/mia.html' title='M.I.A.'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1118604364377697871</id><published>2011-07-15T00:28:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-15T00:37:31.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Car-ma</title><content type='html'>The 405 freeway is closing this weekend, and the city is freaking out. What have we done to deserve such a horrible fate? We have been robbed of our entitlements and modern conveniences! How dare they!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I welcome the challenge.  I like the convenience of hopping into my car and getting places quickly as much as the next person (relatively speaking....c'mon, it's LA), but this weekend will hopefully confirm that I don't NEED my car to survive. Hell, people survived for thousands of years without cars. Plus, it's an excuse to NOT go anywhere or do anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe if I'm feeling bold, I'll turn off my phone too. So primitive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So cheers to carmageddon. A lazy weekend is just what the doctor ordered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://cdn.abclocal.go.com/images/kabc/cms_exf_2007/_video_wn_images/8249124_600x338.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 600px; height: 338px;" src="http://cdn.abclocal.go.com/images/kabc/cms_exf_2007/_video_wn_images/8249124_600x338.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;PS - those of you in my inner circle already know that I have a weird obsession/fascination with freeway overpasses. This photo was a natural choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1118604364377697871?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1118604364377697871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/car-ma.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1118604364377697871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1118604364377697871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/car-ma.html' title='Car-ma'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6259787364534839692</id><published>2011-07-08T07:17:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T07:28:26.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guilt-Free</title><content type='html'>Happy Friday&lt;br /&gt;Con: I have work today&lt;br /&gt;Pro: Fridays are casual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is officially a guilt-free day. Why? Well, this morning I logged onto facebook (still one of the first pages I check--so college-y of me) and noticed that none of my "friends" had birthdays today. Every other morning, I inspect the names, and usually end up deciding not to send my well-wishes (justification: they'll probably get hundreds of other posts from their other "friends"). I am not the type to write an insincere/generic "happy birthday!" on the wall of every person on their birthday. If I can't think of something personal to add, or I wouldn't ever write on their wall otherwise, I hold off. No offense to anyone, I just don't want to feel like a phony (can you tell I'm rereading Catcher in the Rye? Ha)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even so, my conscience feels a little clearer on the days that my news feed doesn't inform me that 28 of my friends wished someone a happy birthday and I didn't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6259787364534839692?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6259787364534839692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/guilt-free.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6259787364534839692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6259787364534839692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/guilt-free.html' title='Guilt-Free'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-8176107768561725747</id><published>2011-07-07T18:32:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-07T18:47:52.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh The Places I'll Go...</title><content type='html'>My mind has a tendency to wander. Like, hard-core wander. I have thought about things so random that I wonder how on earth my mind even thought to think about whatever it is I'm thinking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frequently, when I'm trying to motivate myself to get through something, I tell myself "c'mon. You only have {insert amount of time here} left. You can do &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt; for {amount of time}."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today at work, while I was taking a break, I realized that I had two hours left until the day was over. I had been reviewing contracts (tedious) all day, and needed my motivational phrase. "C'mon, Dana," I said. "You only have two hours left. You can do &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt; for two hours."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;"Excuse me,"&lt;/span&gt; the devil on my shoulder chimed in, &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;"but I'm pretty sure there are many things you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;can't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; do for two hours."&lt;/span&gt; Damn it. My shoulder devil was right. Shoulder angel couldn't even come back with a counter argument. I proceeded to think of a bunch of things I could not do for two hours (the first thing was 'hold my breath'). As my time remaining at work lessened, I began mentally crossing things off my 'things-I-wouldn't-be-able-to-do-for-this-amount-of-time' list, until finally, I was able to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, today was a long day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/xochicalco/xochicalco1011/xochicalco101100040/8278421-angel-on-one-shoulder-and-devil-on-the-other.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 206px; height: 232px;" src="http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/xochicalco/xochicalco1011/xochicalco101100040/8278421-angel-on-one-shoulder-and-devil-on-the-other.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-8176107768561725747?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/8176107768561725747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/oh-places-ill-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8176107768561725747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8176107768561725747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/oh-places-ill-go.html' title='Oh The Places I&apos;ll Go...'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-2210541781035030047</id><published>2011-07-04T10:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T10:24:22.775-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Re-reading my posts from last summer and fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conclusion: I was a sad-sack. Glad that's over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-2210541781035030047?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/2210541781035030047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/re-reading-my-posts-from-last-summer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2210541781035030047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2210541781035030047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/re-reading-my-posts-from-last-summer.html' title=''/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3828379795271990791</id><published>2011-07-03T14:10:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T14:43:54.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>High Times</title><content type='html'>Does the title of this post have anything to do with the fact that I've spent the weekend basking in the sun and eating excessive quantities of seasonal fruit? (What type of person would I be to waste your precious brain-space with such an entry?). In short - no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, while on a hill-walk with my mom, we got on the subject of kids who'd peaked in high school. (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;High&lt;/span&gt; Times --&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;High&lt;/span&gt; school....see what I'm getting at?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in high school, I wasn't particularly happy ("but you were winter formal queen and captain of the song squad," mother chimed in. Yeah, I remember). I wasn't bullied or subject to any traumatic experiences, but I wasn't satisfied either. I knew some kids that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;loved&lt;/span&gt; high school. They were born for the sole purpose of going to high school and being awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the time, I was envious of these kids. That ended on graduation day, along with their awesomeness. Now they are looking back on their heyday with sadness, knowing that they peaked too soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"See, time puts everything into perspective," mother chimed in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agree. However, when you are in the midst of a shitty situation, you can't raise your hand and say, "excuse me 12th grade english teacher. Things aren't going well for me right now, so I'm going to retreat into an obscure cave and return in five years with a fresh perspective."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a grand scale I think I'm lucky. High school wasn't great. College was better, but still had some rough spots. My life has gotten steadily more satisfying over the years (save for some minor fluctuations), which is preferable to  a sharp peak in my high school years, followed by spending the remainder of my life coping with the shock of nobody knowing or caring that I was hot shit at age 17. (*I was going to put a graph here, but technical difficulties said otherwise*).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being too satisfied with life(whether by popularity, wealth, looks, etc.) too young is comparable to growing up too wealthy as a kid. The higher up the ladder you start, the harder it is to move up, and the less you'll appreciate it when you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So appreciate your humble beginnings. Happy 4th.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3828379795271990791?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3828379795271990791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/high-times.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3828379795271990791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3828379795271990791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/07/high-times.html' title='High Times'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1532075702187212562</id><published>2011-06-21T20:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T20:36:35.938-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Epilogue to the previous entry</title><content type='html'>I was making a chocolate-chunk banana pancake for dinner tonight, and the new spatula couldn't keep up. I had to use fork to flip the pancake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karma&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1532075702187212562?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1532075702187212562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/epilogue-to-previous-entry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1532075702187212562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1532075702187212562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/epilogue-to-previous-entry.html' title='Epilogue to the previous entry'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-8021834038798085085</id><published>2011-06-20T20:52:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T21:35:16.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rejection Ethics</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="sectionLabel"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default;" id="hotword" name="hotword"&gt;Synonyms&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="secondary-bf"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default;" id="hotword" name="hotword"&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" id="hotword" name="hotword"&gt;refusal,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" id="hotword" name="hotword"&gt;spurning,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" id="hotword" name="hotword"&gt;dismissal,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default;color:transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;elimination.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting rejected sucks. Having to reject someone else...well, it also sucks. It's easy to tell someone you're not interested (hell-fucking-no, or the like), but how do you do it nicely? And is it okay to lie to spare someone's feelings?&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend, I realized that I was without a decent spatula. My mom had given me a 20% off coupon to Bed Bath &amp;amp; Beyond (beyond what? nobody knows), so I decided to put it to good use. As I was leaving the store with my purchase, some guy asked me "where's your stuff?"&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Right here," I said, waving the spatula.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's all?"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes. I had a coupon."&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End of conversation, or so I thought. About 5 minutes later, as I was wa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default;color:transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;lking to my car, a few blocksaway, I heard someone yelling behind me. It was the guy, and he was running after me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"Look at this coupon!" he yell/panted triumphantly. On his receipt, someone had hand-written '20% off total purchase,' (apparently it was a manager).&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow," I said, in a tone that attempted to hide how un-impressed I was. He didn't know that I knew that you could use multiple '20% off any single-item coupons' in a single purchase. I guess I did a good job of feigning interest, because we proceeded to have an unnecessarily long conversation about coupons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;After the a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default;color:transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;wkward coupon-related chatter ended, in which I assured him that my mom would send me more coupons and I really didn't need his, he interjected with "you're so beautiful. We should hang out. What's your number?"&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit. Put on the spot, I gave it to him (mostly so I could go free and not have to reject him then and there). As I was walked away (quickly- I didn't want to be caught up with again), I brainstormed about how to reject him nicely. He seemed perfectly friendly, just not my type (probably in his early thirties, and wearing sweat pants with a denim button-up shirt). I decided the best plan was when he called, I'd tell him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default;color:transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; that I had a boyfriend, but was so startled by his running after me that I hadn't remembered to tell him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately felt guilty (the downside of being a jew) about my plan, because there were two major moral problems:&lt;br /&gt;1) If I had a boyfriend, I'd be a horrible girlfriend to 'forget' and let guys hit on me.&lt;br /&gt;2) It's not true, so I'm a liar.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to rejection, being mean or blunt is easy. Being nice is an art--an art which I have not perfected, w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;hich is why, when the guy called tonight, I didn't answer my phone. He left a voicemail. I probably won't ever listen to it or call him back.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;And he'll probably think I'm a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly do feel guilty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;, but how much must I compromise myself to spare others feelings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default;color:transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.whiteironbed.info/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/bed-bath-and-beyond-coupons.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 323px; height: 212px;" src="http://www.whiteironbed.info/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/bed-bath-and-beyond-coupons.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default;color:transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default;color:transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[The rare and elusive coupon that started it all.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default;color:transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-8021834038798085085?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/8021834038798085085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/rejection-ethics.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8021834038798085085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8021834038798085085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/rejection-ethics.html' title='Rejection Ethics'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6501265155438483930</id><published>2011-06-16T20:37:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-16T20:50:13.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Week 2: Loud, followed by very quiet</title><content type='html'>Week 2 has come to a close (I don't work on Friday, so I'm referring to the work week).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week started out tough--since I was switching to the 4-day schedule, Monday was my first 10-hour day. On top of that, I had to work an extra half hour (more on that later). Not going to lie, it was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long&lt;/span&gt; day. I ate lunch while working at my desk so I could take a nap in my car during my official lunch break. Tuesday was a little better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, the office held an open house for it's clients, so the staff was all sent home at 4. We were only given 1.5 hours excused time, so we had to make up any extra work missed on other days (and that's why I worked extra time on Monday). Today, there was a TON of leftover food from the party. From what I overheard, everyone at the party got super drunk. I heard the receptionist complaining how hungover she was. College lives on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really like my job. I like the work I do, I enjoy the people, and, for this week at least, work has been my only social interaction. Roommate 1 went home for the week (his PhD summer classes don't start until next week), and roommate 2's school year just ended (he's a teacher), so I've been completely alone (other than trips to the supermarket....and people inside the television). It's weird to spend 11 hours surrounded by people and things, and then come home to....silence and stillness. Come back roommates! Please?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6501265155438483930?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6501265155438483930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/week-2-loud-followed-by-very-quiet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6501265155438483930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6501265155438483930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/week-2-loud-followed-by-very-quiet.html' title='Week 2: Loud, followed by very quiet'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-8636372613814669115</id><published>2011-06-10T19:56:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T19:57:54.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>iLived</title><content type='html'>I have officially survived my first week as a contributing member of society. Overall, it wasn't bad! As I have no problem with the people I work with or the work itself, my biggest survival issue at this point is getting run over by crazy LA drivers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-8636372613814669115?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/8636372613814669115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/ilived.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8636372613814669115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8636372613814669115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/ilived.html' title='iLived'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-8445927852217981147</id><published>2011-06-07T20:05:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-07T20:19:46.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>iWork</title><content type='html'>Okay, so maybe iWork is already a trademarked apple product, but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you couldn't tell from the title, I work! (Regular 8-hour days this week- then next week I switch to AWS (alternative work schedule)--four 10-hour days per week. NO FRIDAYS EVER!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's tiring, but I really like it. Most of the cube-people are not too much older than me (the older  fat-cats get offices).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I'm on the SAG (Screen Actor's Guild) team, so I audit the pension plans of actors, stunt people, and dancers for movies, commercials, and TV. The work is challenging (there are 10 million steps to prepping an audit, and each confidential database has a different password), but interesting. I have access to a lot of confidential information....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I don't how much more I'm legally allowed to say about what I'm working on, so I won't, just in case.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-8445927852217981147?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/8445927852217981147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/iwork.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8445927852217981147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8445927852217981147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/iwork.html' title='iWork'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3418384677748846363</id><published>2011-06-02T12:52:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T12:56:49.999-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Ideas About the Thing But the Thing Itself</title><content type='html'>Moving tomorrow, and starting work on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about my first post-college job for a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long&lt;/span&gt; time, but now that it's four days away, I have absolutely no idea what to think. I'm trying not to have expectations. A historical trend analysis would show that my expectations are usually inaccurate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for now, I'm keeping "the future" off a pedestal and going into the real world with a clean slate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3418384677748846363?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3418384677748846363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/not-ideas-about-thing-but-thing-itself.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3418384677748846363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3418384677748846363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/06/not-ideas-about-thing-but-thing-itself.html' title='Not Ideas About the Thing But the Thing Itself'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1755753429625626300</id><published>2011-05-31T00:30:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T00:36:08.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Insanity</title><content type='html'>I'm moving in three days, and the prep is insane. My stuff is overflowing into every room of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been to Ikea three times in the last three days. (Highlights: everything is Swedish, $1 ice cream, and one of the box-lugger boys pulled an "excuse me, you dropped this" and gave me his number. I'm not going to call, but my parents got a kick out of it). But still, it is a tiring place, because it's so big and there's so much to look at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I carried a couch up a flight of stairs. Today my arms hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm living in a weird alternate universe that is post-school, pre-job. The bubble pops one week from today (Monday).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1755753429625626300?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1755753429625626300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/05/insanity.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1755753429625626300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1755753429625626300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/05/insanity.html' title='Insanity'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1909790020654239409</id><published>2011-05-24T00:14:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T00:52:20.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Inertia</title><content type='html'>Inertia: An object in motion is likely to stay in motion (I'm not a scientist, so don't quote me on that).&lt;br /&gt;Blog Uninertia: A blog not in motion is likely to stay not in motion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, the longer I go without blogging, the less likely I am to blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been super busy. Taking finals, graduating, moving home (and out again in two weeks), and battling a quite annoying medical malady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In summary: finals were hard, graduation was standard-- if not a little boring--and moving was meh (though I do have a nasty cut/bruise from a storage bin breaking in half and falling onto my foot. Don't move in sandals. Duh.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the last thing. I have a word of caution to you all (probably only applies to girls): DON'T use old makeup. Please. Last weekend, I came home looking gross and unprepared to look un-gross if needed. My parents wanted to go out to dinner, so I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cleverly&lt;/span&gt; decided to grab some old makeup that had been sitting in my closet for....years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, I noticed my lips felt drier than usual, but didn't pay attention to it because I was  in finals mode. That was my only symptom until Thursday. I woke up at 5am for an early morning final, and noticed that my eyes looked puffier than usual. I attributed it to sleep deprivation. Throughout the day, I felt okay, and the eye swelling went down a bit (I think. I wasn't looking in the mirror much). That night, I was going to a friend's birthday party (a fancy one). I noticed my skin was VERY dry and my lips were cracking. I noticed a bunch of splotchy red spots on my neck. Not normal, but I had partying to do and no time to dwell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday morning- graduation day. Woke up.  AWFUL. My skin felt too tight for my face. Went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Scary thing looked back at me. It had a bright red face with swollen baggy eyes. I thought some de-puffing eye cream might help, so I rubbed it on. It burned. My eyes immediately started watering like crazy, and then I was sweating and shaking. I tried washing it off, but the burning continued. The only thing that helped a little was putting a bag of ice on my face. I threw on some (ugly) clothes and managed to drive home, even though I couldn't open my eyes. My mom tried to tell me I didn't look that bad. I didn't believe her. She drove me to the doctor's office, and the office staff didn't didn't believe her either. I got some pitiful looks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only way to reduce the swelling was a steriod shot. Lucky me. A lady took me into the back room, where I rolled up my sleeve like a warrior. I guess I am naive. This kind of shot is done in the butt (Yeah, I know it sounds dirty and gross. It was. I said a few unkind words. Sorry nurse). Afterward, they gave me a prescription for something  and told me to take Benadryll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and did I mention this was all happening while all my friends were having a graduation photo shoot? Shitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went home, took all my drugs, and tried to think about something besides the fact that this was my graduation day and I looked and felt like a snake prepping for shedding season.&lt;br /&gt;It took me 90 minutes to put on enough makeup to (mostly) hide my disfigurations, and it hurt like hell. Every time I moved my face (or blinked), my un-stretchable skin would crack a little. By the grace of God, I was able to get some pictures that hid my diseased look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I lived. I've spent the last 3 days doing crazy things like standing over boiling pots of water and re-lotioning about every 10 minutes to try and speed up the "shedding" process (again, sounds gross. Again, it is. I could have gone in to more detail about said crazy things, so be thankful that I didn't). Hopefully, I'll be able to go out in public in a few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And hopefully, and few days after that, I'll be able to look back on my graduation day and laugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1909790020654239409?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1909790020654239409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/05/inertia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1909790020654239409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1909790020654239409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/05/inertia.html' title='Inertia'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7327252236647410397</id><published>2011-05-09T09:30:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T09:34:29.068-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday Monday</title><content type='html'>I just had a dream about something I really wanted, woke up, and realized it didn't actually happen. Boo, hiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today marks the beginning of my last week of college classes--ever. Europe's song, "The Final Countdown," will be on repeat all week. Actually, probably not. I just wish that professors would have some compassion and realize that, as it is our last week of class, we'd rather be spending our time with our friends that we night not see again for a while than working on "group" projects (don't even get me started on this topic because I'll go on for days) and cramming our heads full of crap that we plan to forget the minute the test is over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just sayin'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7327252236647410397?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7327252236647410397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/05/monday-monday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7327252236647410397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7327252236647410397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/05/monday-monday.html' title='Monday Monday'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1942457555894494230</id><published>2011-05-08T05:21:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T05:31:11.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Boys,</title><content type='html'>Dear Boys,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Insulting my friends,&lt;br /&gt;mocking my height, gender, and religion,&lt;br /&gt;bragging about how often you get with girls,&lt;br /&gt;complaining about how most girls 'can't satisfy you',&lt;br /&gt;and informing me that I  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;be hooking up with you, even though I probably can't satisfy you either&lt;br /&gt;is not going to get you anywhere in my book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope your night ended badly, because you suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The management&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1942457555894494230?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1942457555894494230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/05/dear-boys.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1942457555894494230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1942457555894494230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/05/dear-boys.html' title='Dear Boys,'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3252853260687961182</id><published>2011-05-05T21:01:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T21:10:50.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There are some things money can't buy</title><content type='html'>There are some things money can't buy. Such as intelligence. And writing skills. (The list goes on and on...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last 3 hours of my 12-hour school day were spent meeting with one of my group project teams. My role was to edit the other members' sections. All I can say is, after all those years of school, how are some people still so awful at writing (and grammar...and spelling)?? For my tuition dollars, I'd like to think I came out of college able to string together a semi-coherent sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm curious as to what effect the college-graduate-with-no-writing-skills-whatsoever cohort will have on the workforce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. Off to the Cinco de Mayo party that I'm now quite late to, thanks to the incompetencies of my classmates.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3252853260687961182?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3252853260687961182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/05/there-are-some-things-money-cant-buy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3252853260687961182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3252853260687961182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/05/there-are-some-things-money-cant-buy.html' title='There are some things money can&apos;t buy'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4592539916673198469</id><published>2011-04-30T23:40:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-01T00:16:56.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Learned From Being Bullied</title><content type='html'>To those of you that know me on a fairly day-to-day basis, you may have noticed a change in my behavior last semester. I was quiet, often appeared exhausted (when seen at all), and didn't socialize unless people came to my house. The truth is, I was being bullied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was 5'4, had brown hair, and wasn't large in stature but intimidating nonetheless. I saw her all too often. Soon, she had me convinced that I was a loser. All failings in my personal and 'professional' life were my own fault. The further I fell, the louder her taunts became. And the worst part was that I couldn't escape the grip of my bully, because the bully was me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my 'tough-love' style roots back to my soccer days. If somebody knocked me down, my priority was to get back up fast above all else. I had a job to do. Even if I was in pain. Staying down meant that I was failing myself and my teammates. It meant I was a loser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took those principles and carried them into my non-soccer life. When I fell down, the speed of my recovery was vital. If ever I deemed that I was taking too long to get back up, my bully would speak up. "Get up. Don't be a loser." Of course, 'loser' was a self-assessed title. [I should mention that I am also a perfectionist. Bad combo.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My experience last semester taught me that sometimes I need stand up to my inner-bully. To tell her to shut the fuck up, and then tell her to apologize for calling me a loser. I would never tolerate these verbal assaults from anyone else, yet I allowed my inner bully to have free-reign with her words. I learned that life is not a soccer game. I need to realize when I'm in pain, and maybe sit out for a while. Not all pain can be "walked off" and ignored. Most of all, when someone is in pain, it's important to be nice to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't learn this lesson until I woke up one day and realized that I couldn't live my life this way anymore. I felt disconnected from everyone and everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bullying is a terrible trend that has been increasingly entering the public scope. It is everyone's responsibility to take a stand against this trend. But in your other-advocacy, don't forget to not bully yourself as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;PS- I am doing much better this semester, for those of you who were concerned. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4592539916673198469?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4592539916673198469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/what-i-learned-from-being-bullied.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4592539916673198469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4592539916673198469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/what-i-learned-from-being-bullied.html' title='What I Learned From Being Bullied'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7694409409282007625</id><published>2011-04-26T19:03:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T19:22:38.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Retrospect</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Retro&lt;/i&gt; (Latin prefix): "backwards" or "in past times."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at life events in retrospect provides a level of clarity that cannot be present at the time the even occurred.&lt;br /&gt;Looking at life in retrospect is like analyzing a sports game after you know the final score. It's easy to see where and when the strategic errors took place. Sometimes I wish I knew all the answers ahead of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You too might be thinking, "wouldn't life be easier if I knew everything in advance?" Upon further thought, I think not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;a. Knowing is easy, but easy = boring.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;b. knowing everything that's going to happen includes both good and bad things. Being aware of your own impending doom (if such is the case) could be depressing. Ignorance is bliss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Retrospect can also identify good things that you didn't know or think were good at the time. Like getting passed up for one job, only to get a better one later. Yeah, it sucks at the time, but in retrospect, you're pretty glad that those jerks didn't want you. (Same goes for boys).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bring this up, because on my ride home today, I was thinking about two of my friends who dated for a little while. It ended strangely, and drama ensued. At the time, it was a pretty big deal. Now, the issue is pretty much dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically, in retrospect, nothing is that big of a deal. Therefore, let's all relax a bit, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feliz Martes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7694409409282007625?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7694409409282007625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/retrospect.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7694409409282007625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7694409409282007625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/retrospect.html' title='Retrospect'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6116220936501741626</id><published>2011-04-26T00:15:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T00:18:01.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post-Spring Break Grogginess</title><content type='html'>Have you ever experienced the phenomenon where you take a too-long nap, and it actually makes you more tired?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like that's what spring break did to me. I was so close to being done with school, and then this damn break came along and stole all my momentum. And now all I want to do is....nothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6116220936501741626?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6116220936501741626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/post-spring-break-grogginess.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6116220936501741626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6116220936501741626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/post-spring-break-grogginess.html' title='Post-Spring Break Grogginess'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-5579567880571530501</id><published>2011-04-23T12:10:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T12:15:21.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Special Breed of Uniqueness</title><content type='html'>People whose every Facebook album is titled after lyrics from the most popular Top-40 song at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Extra bonus: when 4 or 5 people create albums with the same title within days of each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way to be unique, guys and gals.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-5579567880571530501?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/5579567880571530501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/special-breed-of-uniqueness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5579567880571530501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5579567880571530501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/special-breed-of-uniqueness.html' title='A Special Breed of Uniqueness'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4564241948294127755</id><published>2011-04-22T18:46:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-22T19:25:41.491-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Double Scoop</title><content type='html'>*Forewarning: today's post is brought to you by severe sleep deprivation and a long drive, and I'm trying to keep my language as un-harsh as possible. That said, I can't guarantee anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since it's been a while since my last post, I'm lumping two thoughts into one entry.&lt;br /&gt;Today's topics: (1) Considerate Vs. Inconsiderate, and (2) Opinions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. There are two types of people: considerate and...not. I think that I'm typically a considerate person. I'm not trying to paint a portrait of myself as a saint, but I almost always consider others' thoughts and needs before I act (via group consensus, majority opinion, etc.). I'm not going to do something that nobody else wants to do, because in the end I'll feel guilty. I expect the same treatment from others. However, this 'golden rule' mentality doesn't account for those on the other side of the coin. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The steam-rollers&lt;/span&gt;. It's their way or the highway, and if you disagree...well, they're going to do what they damn-well please, regardless of how you feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A problem arises when a considerate person is paired with an inconsiderate person. Though it's in my nature to consider others, it can get extremely frustrating when I know that I won't get the same treatment in return. I suppose it would be easy enough to be inconsiderate also in order to get even, but then I'm compromising my own values. Hopefully karma/justice will determine how this one turns out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Which segways into my second topic (rant): opinions and tolerance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h2 style="font-weight: normal; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;opin·ion  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="pr"&gt;\ə-&lt;span class="unicode"&gt;ˈ&lt;/span&gt;pin-yən\&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ssens"&gt;&lt;em class="sn"&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt; a view, judgment, or appraisal formed in the mind about a particular matter (merriam-webster.com)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt; Differences are inherent in our society. We are all different, so naturally there will be differences among individuals. Size, shape, intelligence, experience, and opinions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is impossible to eliminate all differences among people. We can react to these differences in two ways: tolerance or intolerance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Tolerance- accept that people have different opinions than you do. They aren't wrong, and neither are you. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Intolerance- try to convince others that your opinion is the correct opinion, and persist until they change their mind.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am unwaveringly tolerant. I embrace differences. I might not agree with others' opinions all the time, but I am open to the idea that my opinion is not more 'right' or 'wrong' than anyone elses. I believe that being intolerant of others is a sign of ignorance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also consider myself a pacifist, but when people try to tell me that my opinions are wrong, I push back. My opinion regarding opinions is that you have no right to tell someone else that their opinion is wrong. I have spent the last 22 1/2 years gathering information from my surroundings, so it's not like my opinions were formed in a vacuum. If you think there is any single thing you can tell me that will reverse a lifetime of thought...you're wasting your time and breath. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;But like I said, that's just my opinion. If you disagree with my opinion:&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cool. You're entitled to disagree with me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;However, if you are currently formulating an argument of how you will convince me otherwise:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go back and read this entry again--this time with your eyes open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4564241948294127755?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4564241948294127755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/double-scoop.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4564241948294127755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4564241948294127755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/double-scoop.html' title='Double Scoop'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4434937608270972120</id><published>2011-04-13T12:30:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T12:33:59.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In accounting, when you find an error on a past financial statement, you go back, correct the error, and restate your current financial statements. Problem solved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Real life doesn't work like that, unfortunately.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4434937608270972120?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4434937608270972120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/in-accounting-when-you-find-error-on.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4434937608270972120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4434937608270972120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/in-accounting-when-you-find-error-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3277989126623673779</id><published>2011-04-12T23:03:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-12T23:08:53.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anger</title><content type='html'>Looking all the way back to my competitive tennis-playing days, anger has always inspired me to be better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fire is lit. Here I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.clker.com/cliparts/a/6/4/9/11954351131708850731zeimusu_Fire_Icon.svg.hi.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 435px;" src="http://www.clker.com/cliparts/a/6/4/9/11954351131708850731zeimusu_Fire_Icon.svg.hi.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3277989126623673779?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3277989126623673779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/anger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3277989126623673779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3277989126623673779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/anger.html' title='Anger'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4187289174629276561</id><published>2011-04-11T21:08:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T21:12:10.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I think....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I think&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;When I see pictures, or videos, or any evidence of what a great time you're having now,&lt;br /&gt;without me,&lt;br /&gt;I get angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I think&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;This might make me a horrible person.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't really know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4187289174629276561?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4187289174629276561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-think.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4187289174629276561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4187289174629276561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-think.html' title='What I think....'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3889581337047385280</id><published>2011-04-10T14:30:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T14:33:07.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yin-Yangin, again</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that I saw my weight lifting teacher from last semester.&lt;br /&gt;She said "Hi, how are you?" and I said, "I'm good." Then I passed out on the floor right in front of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I woke up. Weird.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3889581337047385280?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3889581337047385280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/yin-yangin-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3889581337047385280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3889581337047385280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/yin-yangin-again.html' title='Yin-Yangin, again'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-26074576293640050</id><published>2011-04-08T20:51:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T01:22:36.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WOW</title><content type='html'>I just got back from a family dinner to commemorate my half-birthday/the anniversary of my grandpa getting shot in the war (we didn't know about this one until he told us). Not your typical family dinner celebration.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-26074576293640050?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/26074576293640050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/wow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/26074576293640050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/26074576293640050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/wow.html' title='WOW'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1235234672004552472</id><published>2011-04-08T00:37:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-08T00:42:44.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy 22.5th birthday to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1235234672004552472?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1235234672004552472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1235234672004552472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/lyrics.html' title=''/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3224405069517774650</id><published>2011-04-07T06:14:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T06:26:36.642-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a baby</title><content type='html'>Reason for this post's title: I can no longer sleep through the night, just like a baby. The usual pattern: try to fall asleep for an hour or two, wake up in the middle of the night for an hour or two, wake up early. Equals out to about 4 hours of sleep a night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, my insomnia has given me lots of time to think. While not sleeping last night, I realized that my half-Birthday is tomorrow, and that I start work in less than 2 months. Freaky. Time flies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my very braggy friends posted a facebook status about how she has everything figured out (job, roommate, apartment), and can "live it up until graduation." Upon reading this, I realized that as I no longer have a roommate and still haven't figured out where I'm going to live, so this might be kind of a weird/lonely summer. Maybe I should start studying for my CPA exams (I was going to take the summer off) so I won't notice that my social life has died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Twitter post this morning: "In other news, I think the universe is conspiring against us." This is another thing I realized while I wasn't sleeping last night/this morning. Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3224405069517774650?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3224405069517774650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-am-baby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3224405069517774650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3224405069517774650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-am-baby.html' title='I am a baby'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-7467413036910695731</id><published>2011-04-03T22:14:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T22:20:51.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The great debate</title><content type='html'>My apologies for the unintentional hiatus. These last few weeks have been pretty hectic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's topic: how to label meals...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It the title of the meal based on the type of food you are eating, or the time of day it is when you eat it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example if you eat cereal at night, are you eating breakfast, or are you eating cereal for dinner? Or if you eat leftover steak in the morning, are you eating dinner, or steak for breakfast?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mind-boggling, isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-7467413036910695731?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/7467413036910695731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/great-debate.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7467413036910695731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/7467413036910695731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/04/great-debate.html' title='The great debate'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1201576853624424701</id><published>2011-03-25T11:12:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T11:15:34.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An All-Too-Familiar Phenomenon</title><content type='html'>I have a lot to get done this weekend. I've been awake for many hours, but I haven't actually done anything because I've been sitting here thinking about how much I have to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a surprisingly hard cycle to break.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1201576853624424701?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1201576853624424701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/all-too-familiar-phenomenon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1201576853624424701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1201576853624424701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/all-too-familiar-phenomenon.html' title='An All-Too-Familiar Phenomenon'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6813303053468121525</id><published>2011-03-22T22:52:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T23:09:42.992-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silencio, por favor</title><content type='html'>I just returned from a weekend at a Zen center in the mountains. Given all the meditation I've been doing, I think that silence is an appropriate topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silence: some people like it; some people find it incredibly awkward. I'm in the first group. This is not to say that I'm consistently a quiet person (I have my talkative spurts), but I also don't scramble to fill silences when they arise. I tend only to talk when I have something I really want to say, and I'd like to think that that makes what I say a little more meaningful (don't correct me if I'm wrong...).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the Zen retreat, our group took part in a completely silent lunch. Some of my classmates were visibly uncomfortable, rushed through the meal, and left as soon as they were done. I loved it. There was no pressure to fill silences (yes, sometimes I conform a little as to not make more talkative people think I'm awkward), and I was able to enjoy my food much more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I went for a walk with a friend that I frequently walk with, and we discussed our attitudes about silence (talking about silence...ironic, right?). He pointed out that we are both introspective people, so what might be perceived as awkward silences by others is really us getting lost in thought and forgetting that we aren't talking out loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So true. I often go long stretches of time without saying a word, and only become aware of my extended silence once I talk to another human being again. Driving is another quiet time for me. I usually drive alone, so I've gotten used to using the car as my thinking place. Sometimes, when I'm driving other people, I'll start thinking about stuff and not talk to the person in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, I think silence is golden, but sorry to all the talkers who find me incredibly awkward.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6813303053468121525?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6813303053468121525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/silencio-por-favor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6813303053468121525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6813303053468121525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/silencio-por-favor.html' title='Silencio, por favor'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-1306922419032592991</id><published>2011-03-17T08:31:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T08:45:19.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fear</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Despite the potentially philosophical title, today's entry is actually about St. Patrick's Day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;I don't have anything green to wear. I own lots of turquoise, teal, and even chartreuse, but these not-quite-green colors may still warrant pinches among those green-snobs that only consider true greens (kelly, lime, forrest) to count. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;I am afraid of St. Patrick's Day. People are mean (and at my age, probably a little drunk). When I was younger, I used to purposely not wear green, because I thought that being Jewish made me exempt from getting pinched. My classmates disagreed, and every year I would come home from school wi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;th red pinch marks all over me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Also, when foods that are not typically green are one day green, it usually implies that they are no longer good to eat. I almost threw up at my 4th grade St. Patrick's Day party when the room-moms served us green milk. I like my milk white. Actually, I'm lactose intolerant, so I don't like milk at all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;So here's to another year of getting pinched and eating moldy-looking food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://jc-schools.net/techupdate/index_files/leprechaun-sad1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 158px;" src="http://jc-schools.net/techupdate/index_files/leprechaun-sad1.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;"I hate my job"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-1306922419032592991?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/1306922419032592991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/fear.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1306922419032592991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/1306922419032592991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/fear.html' title='Fear'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6356290588924183716</id><published>2011-03-15T23:14:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T23:27:35.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Inner Inventor</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, I come up with strange ideas of things that I would invent if I were skilled enough to invent things (or had the money to hire people who did).&lt;br /&gt;A debit card with a dot that changed color depending on your account balance, or cars with magnets that repelled against other cars (no more accidents?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of another invention yesterday: technology emotion sensors. When I receive an email or text, my phone makes the same sound no matter the content of the message. My text sound happens to be very happy-sounding chime, so it always throws me off a bit when the happy  chime chimes and the text is bad/sad news. With technology emotion sensors, the sound would adjust according to the content of the message. If the text said "Grandpa died" the corresponding sound would be somber vs. if they text read, "just won the lottery!!!!!!!!!!!"--happy sound. Of course, this invention would involve an invasion of privacy to some extent because the emotion-sensing computer/robot would have to scan the message for content. Overall, I think it would be helpful. One day if I have money I will hire a fresh-out-of-school techie to invent it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images2.layoutsparks.com/1/45583/borken-robot-feelings-sad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 247px; height: 246px;" src="http://images2.layoutsparks.com/1/45583/borken-robot-feelings-sad.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mr. Robot: in ur fone, readin ur textz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6356290588924183716?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6356290588924183716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-inner-inventor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6356290588924183716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6356290588924183716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-inner-inventor.html' title='My Inner Inventor'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6113495156014139692</id><published>2011-03-14T00:18:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T00:40:07.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Affluence Gap</title><content type='html'>I came home for the day, so this is my first ever post from the computer at my parents' house. While taking a shower (you'll notice that this and my car are my primary sources of inspiration), I thought about a conversation I had with my former/future roommate the other day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might whine alot on this blog, but never about money. I can be frugal with what I earn myself, but I know that if times get rough my parents will help out. They paid for my education (thanks!), they pay my rent, they bought my car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now you're probably wondering how I could possibly skew this situation into a complaint...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not a complaint, exactly, but roommate and I came to the realization that we've never seen our parents struggle over money, and therefore are that much more freaked out to enter our just-out-of-college-no-money phase. Neither of my parents grew up with money, and probably did their fair deal of struggling when they were my age, but by the time I was born/aware of my surroundings, they were out of that phase. My question is, are children who &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; witnessed their parents struggle with money any less worried?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a daunting idea that we all start out at the bottom and work our way up in the world, but if we all started at the top we'd have nothing to strive for. I guess it just takes time, pacience, and...frugality?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6113495156014139692?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6113495156014139692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/affluence-gap.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6113495156014139692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6113495156014139692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/affluence-gap.html' title='The Affluence Gap'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-5675749991614532498</id><published>2011-03-12T14:23:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T14:32:21.292-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So here's why I'm creepy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;I just stumbled upon the Facebook profiles of a pleasant looking group of travel-loving &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Swedish&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;friends. Now I am looking at their lovely&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;Swedish&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;photos and basking in their idyllic&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Swedish&lt;/span&gt; lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;A) I feel creepy right now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;B) Despite A, these creeper feeling aren't compelling me to stop just yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;C) I hope in that in my next life I am&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Swedish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-5675749991614532498?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/5675749991614532498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/so-heres-why-im-creepy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5675749991614532498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5675749991614532498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/so-heres-why-im-creepy.html' title='So here&apos;s why I&apos;m creepy...'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-5247311103360881585</id><published>2011-03-12T01:17:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T01:41:25.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Manning Up</title><content type='html'>Tonight, instead of venturing into the outside world/expending energy, my roommate and I watched The Graduate. I first watched this movie about a year ago, but wasn't thinking about it within the context of my life. I can safely report that I found very few similarities between myself and Dustin Hoffman's character (and I don't just mean that I am female and he isn't...I don't think cougarism works when genders flop).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterward, as roommate and I were cleaning up brownie remnants (no movie night is complete without some form of dessert), she asked me "if our house were a family, what roles would everybody have?" Never thought about that before. There are 5 of us, so 2 parents and 3 kids. I was able to place one (a very obvious youngest child), but none of the rest. She told me that I am the dad of the family (the second manly reference of this post). A little confusing at first, but her explanation is that I work hard and don't get involved (is this good [stay out of the drama] or not good [distant]?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I faxed in my signed offer letter to future job this morning, so I won't be spending the summer drifting on a pool float and having no plans a-la Dustin Hoffman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://stylemens.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8341cc8d453ef01156fba5a4d970c-800wi"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 463px; height: 350px;" src="http://stylemens.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8341cc8d453ef01156fba5a4d970c-800wi" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;-----"Ben, what are you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"Well, I would say that I'm just drifting. Here in the pool.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;-----"Why?&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"Well, it's very comfortable just to drift here.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-5247311103360881585?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/5247311103360881585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/manning-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5247311103360881585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5247311103360881585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/manning-up.html' title='Manning Up'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4179896943555759251</id><published>2011-03-11T03:25:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-11T03:47:36.938-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Senioritis</title><content type='html'>As requested, I'm blogging about my senioritis. I woke up this morning and didn't really give a shit. I sat through 2 classes (my other two were canceled today, luckily, or my brain may have exploded) physically, but not mentally. I don't want to have senioritis, because I'd like to think that I'm  intrinsically motivated to work hard regardless of the situation (I may  be a senior in college, but I'm a pre-schooler in "real life").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this is temporary. It's been a really long week (actually 2 weeks)--I spent the whole weekend prepping the kids I tutor for their midterm/studying for my own midterms...so Monday felt like the continuation of the previous week rather than a new one. I spent 6 hours putting together a study guide and creating practice problems, then 6 more hours actually tutoring. The day after the test, some girl emailed me to say that she didn't event attempt to answer the problem that was 40% of the total test, and that my study session wasn't effective because there were too many people there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A) Sorry, but I'm not going to limit the size of the session. It's open to anyone who wants it&lt;br /&gt;B) Never leave a test answer completely blank. Write &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;something&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;C) I'm a tutor, not a miracle worker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier this afternoon, I went out for coffee with the woman in charge of job placement to catch up. She said I can come across as 'unaffected and serious' (i.e. intimidating. I hear that all too often), and maybe that's why I had a harder time getting hired. Shitty. I can't help it that God graced me with this unfriendly-looking bone structure. And maybe I am a little more reserved around people I don't know well, but I wouldn't consider myself a mean person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least it's the weekend. Tomorrow I am going on a hike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&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/1767224057775826321-4179896943555759251?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4179896943555759251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/senioritis.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4179896943555759251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4179896943555759251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/senioritis.html' title='Senioritis'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-8587306575675843383</id><published>2011-03-06T10:17:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T10:18:29.617-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Salud</title><content type='html'>I've been sneezing in threes lately. When I was in Uruguay, they told me that meant good luck&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-8587306575675843383?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/8587306575675843383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/salud.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8587306575675843383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8587306575675843383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/salud.html' title='Salud'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3360428827972397471</id><published>2011-03-05T22:48:00.009-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T23:05:13.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let me get this off my chest so I can finally move on.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dear Ex-Lover,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've grown up with the phrase '&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;If something seems too good to be true, it probably is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;' pounded into my psyche.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, you were no exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a great deal of consideration, I've assembled a list of reasons why this is true:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1. You were too attractive&lt;br /&gt;2. Your taste in music was too good&lt;br /&gt;3. You were too passionate about your work&lt;br /&gt;4. In fact, you were too passionate about everything you did&lt;br /&gt;5. We had too much in common&lt;br /&gt;6. You were too cultured, adventurous, and intelligent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;7. Oh, and you broke my heart you stupid motherfucker&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you are happy and all is well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me&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/1767224057775826321-3360428827972397471?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3360428827972397471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/dear-ex-lover-ive-grown-up-with-phrase.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3360428827972397471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3360428827972397471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/dear-ex-lover-ive-grown-up-with-phrase.html' title='Let me get this off my chest so I can finally move on.'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-4250813223505273732</id><published>2011-03-04T04:28:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-04T04:28:53.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>what do I do if I'm just not tired?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-4250813223505273732?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/4250813223505273732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/what-do-i-do-if-im-just-not-tired.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4250813223505273732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/4250813223505273732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/what-do-i-do-if-im-just-not-tired.html' title=''/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-8429837209153856916</id><published>2011-03-03T14:23:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T14:27:10.454-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What a crazy week.&lt;br /&gt;I've realized that when I go into super-efficient mode, it's hard to transition out of it right away. Must shut the machine off.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://chestofbooks.com/crafts/scientific-american/sup1/images/Gessner-s-Continuous-Cloth-Pressing-Machine-344-11b.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 395px;" src="http://chestofbooks.com/crafts/scientific-american/sup1/images/Gessner-s-Continuous-Cloth-Pressing-Machine-344-11b.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;turn off you! efficiency is not very fun!&lt;/span&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/1767224057775826321-8429837209153856916?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/8429837209153856916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/what-crazy-week.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8429837209153856916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8429837209153856916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/03/what-crazy-week.html' title=''/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-9020830338321849798</id><published>2011-02-26T12:13:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T12:22:03.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Unbelievable.</title><content type='html'>Just got word that one of my good friends was cheated on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other girl was her "best friend." Needless to say, that friendship is probably over.&lt;br /&gt;It takes two to cheat. Obviously, the person in a relationship should have enough of a conscience not to cheat, but the other person sometimes doesn't know their treading on private property.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not so in this case. She knew, and she did it anyway. People, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt; are you doing? These are the stories that make me not want to trust anyone. Unbelievable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-9020830338321849798?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/9020830338321849798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/unbelievable.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/9020830338321849798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/9020830338321849798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/unbelievable.html' title='Unbelievable.'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-3710895956555238268</id><published>2011-02-25T18:34:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T18:36:48.876-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Ladies. Everywhere.</title><content type='html'>Dear Ladies,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being on or near your period does not give you permission to act like a psycho.&lt;br /&gt;Same goes for when you're drunk (men, you too on this one).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may be the cause for your behavior, but it's not an excuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A girl who lives with too many other girls...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-3710895956555238268?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/3710895956555238268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/dear-ladies-everywhere.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3710895956555238268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/3710895956555238268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/dear-ladies-everywhere.html' title='Dear Ladies. Everywhere.'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-870598246289436651</id><published>2011-02-18T21:38:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T21:52:23.612-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Paradigm</title><content type='html'>As you might have noticed, I'm into dream analysis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's blurb is not related to dream content, but an interesting phenomenon I experienced this afternoon. I didn't get much sleep last night (Thursday nights are the college senior's mecca), so I was pretty tired. I laid down on the couch, and drifted into one of those states of sleep where you aren't completely asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--I was really tired, and I was trying to focus on what I was doing, but I kept falling in and out of sleep. The lights were dim, and everything was kind  of hazy. He kept telling me not to fall asleep, and when I did, I opened my eyes and was laying on the couch.--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dubbed it a yin-yang dream. Falling asleep in my dream allowed me to wake up in real life. Kind of sucks because it was a nice dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I have a job! For real, in the real world with real people. The only down side is that my summer break will be 15 days long, but whatevs. Until then, my goal is to learn how to  enjoy life (I've been living at near breaking-point for a good couple of months now).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coincidentally, in one my my classes we are studying our culture's tendency to overwork ourselves. The professor told the class, much to my relief, that it is impossible to give 100% in everything we do. Some things matter less. It's a fact.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-870598246289436651?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/870598246289436651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/new-paradigm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/870598246289436651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/870598246289436651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/new-paradigm.html' title='New Paradigm'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6785294339873496956</id><published>2011-02-14T22:12:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T22:25:18.951-08:00</updated><title type='text'>V-Day Part 2: The Cereal Theorem</title><content type='html'>Thanks to a dash of inspiration while driving, there will be TWO entries today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When looking for a significant other, do looks matter? Some would argue yes, others sometimes, and some not at all (sorry, but you're a liar). Here's what I think...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine you are standing in the cereal isle, having made the conscious decision that you want to try something new. How do you do it? You look for an aesthetically pleasing box with a picture of a tasty-looking cereal, accompanied by a description of a product that meets your needs. You look at the nutritional information--is it good for you? If it meets all your initial criteria, you buy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once at home with your new purchase, it's time to try it. Is it good? If so, is it good enough to keep buying, or would you rather try something else once the box runs out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my Cereal Theorem. The outside only matters until you know what's inside. At that point, the inside speaks for itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogcdn.com/www.thatsfit.com/media/2007/09/cereal_aisle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 450px; height: 470px;" src="http://www.blogcdn.com/www.thatsfit.com/media/2007/09/cereal_aisle.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6785294339873496956?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6785294339873496956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/v-day-part-2-cereal-theorem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6785294339873496956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6785294339873496956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/v-day-part-2-cereal-theorem.html' title='V-Day Part 2: The Cereal Theorem'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6070695636417456205</id><published>2011-02-14T19:41:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T19:51:07.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>I know, I'm supposed to be bitter, but I've always viewed Valentine's Day as a celebration of love in general (and an excuse to eat chocolate)--not just the romantic kind. I can't pretend to blame my current unhappiness on being single. I wish that was my biggest problem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three sets of flowers were delivered to my house today. One of my more sensitive housemates was annoyed by all the flowers, so I made her a paper flower out of post-it notes (I suspect that one of the unmarked bouquets might be for her. It's definitely not for me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just got back from dinner with my friends. I love my friends (not like THAT, but still), so why not celebrate today with them?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6070695636417456205?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6070695636417456205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/happy-valentines-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6070695636417456205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6070695636417456205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/happy-valentines-day.html' title='Happy Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-8109436085819839688</id><published>2011-02-10T21:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-10T21:12:45.165-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"You were just too awesome for that job"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you friends, for trying to rationalize on my behalf, but logically, something seems a bit off about that statement&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-8109436085819839688?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/8109436085819839688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/you-were-just-too-awesome-for-that-job.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8109436085819839688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/8109436085819839688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/02/you-were-just-too-awesome-for-that-job.html' title=''/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-6952698025038809180</id><published>2011-01-30T10:00:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T10:30:17.311-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Birdcage</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Yesterday, as I was driving up to LA (third time this week), listening to oldies on the radio and letting my mind wander, I thought of another bloggable topic: how people display their emotions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;The idea was partially inspired by a friend who's had a particularly rough week. As my house-mates and I wondered how to console her, we realized that she often freaks out about little things, but we weren't sure how she reacted to 'big stuff'. I find that this particular friend and I are pretty similar, so I had a feeling her reaction would be much quieter than my house-mates expected. Sure enough, when I saw her the next day, she said that she went off by herself, curled up in a ball, and did her thing. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to my LA car ride--that's when I thought of an interesting analogy for the two types of emotional displays: those who wear their emotions on their sleeves, and those who...don't.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emotions ar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;e birds. Some let their birds fly free, while others prefer to keep them in a cage so they can keep an eye on them. Initially, it seems like it is preferable to keep the birds caged. However, the problem with keeping the birds caged up is that on the rare occasion they do get out, they scatter with the breeze and it takes absolutely &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;forever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt; to locate them all and get them back in the cage. This is likely because these birds are more deprived for freedom than the birds that are free all the time. Once you do find the birds and put them all back (or as many as you can find), there is a feeling of unrest within the cage because the birds know what it feels like to fly free and want to return to their natural state. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So is it best to never let the birds out in the first place? Sometimes, we don't have a choice, but also it's a personal preference. It might be easier to keep them caged, but then again, birds have wings for a reason.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AM5xP5s_hno/TUWsW4g9aoI/AAAAAAAAAE0/KZUGPSG0fik/s1600/IMG_1559.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AM5xP5s_hno/TUWsW4g9aoI/AAAAAAAAAE0/KZUGPSG0fik/s320/IMG_1559.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568046023441214082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Photo credit: me. April 2010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-6952698025038809180?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/6952698025038809180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/01/birdcage.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6952698025038809180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/6952698025038809180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/01/birdcage.html' title='The Birdcage'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AM5xP5s_hno/TUWsW4g9aoI/AAAAAAAAAE0/KZUGPSG0fik/s72-c/IMG_1559.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-5297943066195676973</id><published>2011-01-23T21:05:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T21:08:37.746-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I took a trip to LA earlier this evening, and on my way home I had the pleasure of driving past LAX. At one point, I counted twelve airplanes in the sky, preparing to land.&lt;br /&gt;Twelve different planes coming from twelve different places.&lt;br /&gt;Where are they going? Where have they been?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-5297943066195676973?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/5297943066195676973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-took-trip-to-la-earlier-this-evening.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5297943066195676973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/5297943066195676973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-took-trip-to-la-earlier-this-evening.html' title=''/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1767224057775826321.post-2695384659440820597</id><published>2011-01-20T16:51:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T17:07:00.208-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The L Word</title><content type='html'>Since Valentine's Day is approaching (actually, it's not, but step into a mall or grocery store and you'll be convinced otherwise), I thought I'd do an entry on love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, love is a broad, vague term. It can be used between couples, from parents to children, between drunk girls at parties, and to refer to food (and other material things).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More specifically, I want to talk about the distinction between &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;loving&lt;/span&gt; and being &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in love. &lt;/span&gt;I was talking to a girl in my class today, and she mentioned that she loved her boyfriend before she was in love with him. This got me thinking, what's the difference?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in love&lt;/span&gt; is active state of being. I think it refers to love between couples. It requires work, and it is constantly reassessed (do we still love each other/want to stay together?). Being&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; i&lt;/span&gt;n love &lt;/span&gt;encompasses &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;loving&lt;/span&gt;, so when you are in love with somebody, you love them (duh).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Loving&lt;/span&gt; is more passive. You may love somebody because their relationship to you. For example, you love your family, but you certainly wouldn't tell people you were &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in love&lt;/span&gt; with them unless you are weird. You may also love somebody you respect or admire. You may also sometimes love somebody you used to be&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; in love&lt;/span&gt; with. Since being &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in love&lt;/span&gt; requires active work, you can't be in love with someone you aren't in a relationship with. However, unless there was a nasty falling out, chances are you still harbor many happy memories and respect the person as a human being.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1767224057775826321-2695384659440820597?l=danaappletree.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/feeds/2695384659440820597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/01/l-word.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2695384659440820597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1767224057775826321/posts/default/2695384659440820597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://danaappletree.blogspot.com/2011/01/l-word.html' title='The L Word'/><author><name>Dana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00666144250835217908</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
