<?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-9316720</id><updated>2011-08-20T10:59:12.889-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Talk to the Camel</title><subtitle type='html'>This is where I talk about the things I don't want to discuss with the people who know me but I feel like random strangers should hear.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>567</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-4071291206974128301</id><published>2010-11-23T02:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T02:08:20.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My mother is driving me crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When will she realize that "it IS her fault" that her relationship with her partner sucks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And who keeps thinking that one day her mother will actually listen to what she has to say? Camel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Camel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-4071291206974128301?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/4071291206974128301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=4071291206974128301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/4071291206974128301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/4071291206974128301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2010/11/my-mother-is-driving-me-crazy.html' title=''/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-5703107323427761634</id><published>2009-05-08T14:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T14:35:13.591-04:00</updated><title type='text'>english</title><content type='html'>I remember the first day that the blond brought him into my field of view....I felt it then, I feel it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the ging, but there is something unfinished between me and English. I flirt shamelessly and the fact of the matter is that his company makes my stomach squirm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if he feels it too....I sometimes wonder if his bitterness has something to do with me. But sometimes when we talk I feel that connection and I always leave wishing for more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's pathetic, I know. It's not like I didn't have my chance (and screwed it up). It's not like I would jeopardize what I have now. But every time I am with him, I wish that I could be single for just a little while so I could be with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead I enjoy the patio beers and pretend that I'm not hoping he'll show up when I call my other patio pal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if it would help if we talked about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-5703107323427761634?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/5703107323427761634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=5703107323427761634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/5703107323427761634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/5703107323427761634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2009/05/english.html' title='english'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-6625753375769281353</id><published>2008-10-15T22:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T22:55:13.471-04:00</updated><title type='text'>supermarket social</title><content type='html'>What can I do about her? I'm not a trained psychologist. All I can do is offer my level-headed, honest opinion and make suggestions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I really thought we were getting somewhere today. But she just is not quite ready to accept that she has to be responsible for she. And it all ended with her being rude to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I called to say that I wasn't doing all those things she said I was. But of the message, I remember most telling her that if she didn't want my help that I had plenty of homework I could do instead of listening to her problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why say that? She doesn't need to be made to feel guilty. It doesn't help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But where is my release?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-6625753375769281353?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/6625753375769281353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=6625753375769281353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6625753375769281353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6625753375769281353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2008/10/supermarket-social.html' title='supermarket social'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-853153564161175428</id><published>2008-02-12T19:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T19:56:38.572-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sigh</title><content type='html'>It seems terribly obvious that the other is not interested or has come to the assumption that I am not interested in him. Either way, I felt very silly today. I mean I probably shouldn't have but I did....we were leaving climbing and as always needed a ride home....God I hate asking for rides....but it just isn't safe for me to walk in the dark in the area. Anyways, there were three of my buddies and I just sorta through it up there and one seemed like he wasn't to keen on it and sorta volunteered Bright Scarf....who said he could give me a ride if I didn't mind if he stopped for gas. The volunteerer eventually found out where I lived and said he wouldn't mind driving me home...which was good. But importantly, the Other One didn't speak a word...and worst of all is that when the volunteerer sounded uninterested I did sorta ask the Other One if he minded...though he may not have heard...anyway, point is that I felt like an idiot. I hate asking for help. And I hate that the Other One doesn't seem to have any special interest in me. Grr. Feel cranky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-853153564161175428?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/853153564161175428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=853153564161175428' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/853153564161175428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/853153564161175428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2008/02/sigh.html' title='sigh'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-5726106851139040575</id><published>2008-02-09T21:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T21:41:09.946-05:00</updated><title type='text'>because god forbid I am not interested in someone</title><content type='html'>I am terrible at NOT having a crush. Terrible. Jaxx has been nothing but irritating....he either is not interested or just doesn't know how to ask a girl out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two other single males that I find at least somewhat attractive......both are on my dodgeball team. The first I have found attractive for a while.....when I wasn't sure what was gonna happen with timbuctoo still. He sorta hit on me...or at least showed interest....and I sort of backed away because of timbuctoo....and then he seemed not too receptive when I was single again....not that I really made any moves. And eventually found out he has a gf....though I heard it wasn't serious...anyway, over the last few months I've been back and forth about whether I'm interested....I'm attracted for sure...but he's clearly not a candidate for  a real relationship. Which is too bad...but he is very fun. And a good guy to be friends with for sure cuz he is fun. Let's call him Bright Scarf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other I have known for a little longer and never really found attractive until just recently. He has always struck me as a beta male....but lately he's been seeming more interesting. Not really sure why. He's really nice. My age. Not totally immature or mature....maybe its because I've had a chance to have a few beers with him (and others) and realized that maybe he's not just an awkward guy.....he may have a dirty mind after all....he's not particularly good at the organized sports we play, though he's clearly athletic...and that's maybe why I always thought this....maybe he just never played these sports. He climbs though and is really quite good....and I don't know...lately he just seems more interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to really fight not to phone him and ask him if he wanted to see a movie with me tonight...though I did text him about the hockey game...but he already had plans...though he did ask if I was climbing tomorrow....which is at least sort of a good sign....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I was really worried that my half drunken phone call last night might have scared him off...well it was only 6:30 so he probably didn't think I was drunk......sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.....he has real potential being of the same age, liking sports, not being a student, having a a car, and being fun and nice.....we'll see what happens&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-5726106851139040575?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/5726106851139040575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=5726106851139040575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/5726106851139040575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/5726106851139040575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2008/02/because-god-forbid-i-am-not-interested.html' title='because god forbid I am not interested in someone'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-1601496265557137110</id><published>2008-02-09T21:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T21:44:26.024-05:00</updated><title type='text'>stand up</title><content type='html'>What a great climb today. What a great sport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was thinking while I was climbing about the comment on my last post about timbuctoo....from dustindiamond.....who apparently doesn't have a blog....anyway, I just wanted to say I hope things work out for you....and thanks for the post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-1601496265557137110?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/1601496265557137110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=1601496265557137110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1601496265557137110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1601496265557137110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2008/02/stand-up.html' title='stand up'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-371065272661563607</id><published>2008-02-09T11:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T11:45:13.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>damn it</title><content type='html'>You know I thought I was on the ball with this money thing....but I just looked at my budget and realized that I had budgeted to include an income over the summer that I won't have....which means that I need to take $3000 out of the money I wanted to put into savings to  pay for my expenses over the summer. This SUCKS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll win that scholarship....then I can put that $3000 in and maybe a bit more.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GRRRRR. This sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-371065272661563607?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/371065272661563607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=371065272661563607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/371065272661563607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/371065272661563607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2008/02/damn-it.html' title='damn it'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-37894379037591696</id><published>2008-02-09T11:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T11:31:14.818-05:00</updated><title type='text'>stocking</title><content type='html'>I can't keep up. Life is going too fast and I don't have time to think about it...and I need time to think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally it is Saturday. I slept in, I read my book and drank my coffee by the window while sitting in my recliner.....and I finally have a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's things that have been happening that I feel I need to think about.....relate so I can get some perspective....but I guess right now I want to think about what I want to do with the next few months of my life....with this life that will soon be in its third decade. How did this happen? How am I still in school? Why don't I have a partner. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, what ARE my goals......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Get out of debt - definitely possible....assuming I don't spend willy nilly, break or lose anything, and am willing to not put away the whole amount I had planned&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Read some of the books on my shelf - they're piling up...between the Christmas buying spree and the shopping therapy purchase of past book club books, I need a book buying ban. More importantly, I WANT to read....but I find I am hesitant to pick up these books for fear of being made to feel sad.....&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Prepare my thesis proposal - I need this done...just so I don't feel overwhelmed....but there are so many other projects that are more likely to bring my career success that it is easy to put it to the side. I mustn't. Reading week....IT GETS DONE&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Projects and papers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;there's the one with the bird that needs to be coded, analysed, written up&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;there's the one with faces that needs to be researched and written&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;there's the new methods paper that I just want to write&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;there's the conference presentation for the bird....&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;there's the final exam for that course....&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;.....I guess this really isn't so bad.....the thesis proposal, the faces paper, the bird analysis, the methods paper....I could maybe get through that stuff over reading week...or at least get to a point where the hard work is done.....lemme see&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;The Plan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Reading for proposal - 1 day&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Proposal draft - 1 day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Face readings - 1 day&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Face draft - 1/2day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bird coding - 1 day&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bird analyis - 1/2 day&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bird write up - 1/2 day&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Final exam - 1/2 day&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Methods paper - 1 day&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Well....that's a week....I have 10 days....some of which I AUGHT to have fun on....you know, sleep in or go out or both....so I guess it's possible to do these things if I work hard....if I'm disciplined.....fingers crossed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything else? Hmm....well I'd like to be running more....I can't believe how busy I am this term....with lots of sports, but still. Also I'd like to be eating lunch out less...I'm too lazy to make lunch or don't have time. That sucks cuz I HAVE food at home that is WAY better than what I buy....I NEED to start bringing lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about that vacation this summer? Need to make a plan....am I going home at all? It sort of sucks that I won't really have any idea of whether I can do this until I finish my proposal....bah. Oh well....And plans for the summer...right now there's no budget for trips but some friends want to go outside climbing (scary but fun!)....and I really want to do something tropical...Cuba maybe....hmmmm.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok....I feel better.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-37894379037591696?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/37894379037591696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=37894379037591696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/37894379037591696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/37894379037591696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2008/02/stocking.html' title='stocking'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-1521248689941362450</id><published>2008-01-11T23:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T23:45:14.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>can't keep up</title><content type='html'>I guess when I don't have a steady relationship I need to post every day....I suddenly feel like i have too much to say....it's been less than two weeks! Ack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first vent is on the farmer.....he did come back into town and texted me on his way....we got together....it was certainly interesting....the highlights:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;He picked me up from best friends' bf's place and we got a movie....and then sat by his fire and argued for a few hours...then messed around.....which was weird&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The next day we went for lunch and I asked whether he wanted to go out with me for New Years...he was up in the air on this and eventually decided to stay with him friend who he apparently had promised he would spend New Years with....&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;BUT he picked me up around 1am after I had danced myself happy and we went to his friends, had fun, then went back to his place&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Then we argued more the next day&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He burned me some great CDs&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;And when I got back into town...there was Jaxx. It was a bit of an accident...I was annoyed with the farmer and didn't want to worry about him....and Jaxx happened to be online and I messaged him and we were chatting and decided to go for a drink....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing led to another and it was a nice evening of drinking and chatting...he had broken up with his 18 year old just a week or so ago....and then we went to my place and things went weird...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sigh....i just don't know how this happens...maybe more later...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-1521248689941362450?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/1521248689941362450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=1521248689941362450' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1521248689941362450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1521248689941362450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2008/01/cant-keep-up.html' title='can&apos;t keep up'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-8823908786610417602</id><published>2007-12-30T04:07:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T04:11:38.137-05:00</updated><title type='text'>rarely mentioned part VII</title><content type='html'>So we had decided to chat online to figure out plans....it is now two days after he was supposed to be coming home and I haven't seen him online, haven't gotten any texts or calls...nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell is wrong with this guy? I mean I was fine with just being friends....all the way through I said that it was fine....we didn't need to hook up...I thought it would be a good thing, but I didn't need it to happen.....why is he behaving this way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point my feeling is that it really was the case that I was a trophy to his ego...that he is really trying to convince himself that he is this asshole guy. And it's just sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the third time he hasn't done what he's said he's going to do....he can't possibly think that I wouldn't care......so I can only assume he's doing it on purpose...so I am pissed....what a waste of a great friendship. ....what a damn idiot....if I had thought he would behave this way....if I had thought he was still this immature, I would never have even kissed him....pathetic....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-8823908786610417602?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/8823908786610417602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=8823908786610417602' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8823908786610417602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8823908786610417602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/12/rarely-mentioned-part-vii.html' title='rarely mentioned part VII'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-4151239658952218845</id><published>2007-12-30T03:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T04:14:48.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>rarely mentioned part VI</title><content type='html'>The next morning was a gong show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He messaged me at 9am to say that I had been completely inappropriate....uh...right. I texted him back with a "are you kidding?" and he sent me a LIST of reasons why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently he had been sick...ok, fair nuf....and said that we hadn't actually had any firm plans....are you fucking kidding me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, intensely angry I texted him the reasons why I was pissed and apologized for losing my temper....expecting some sort of apology back.....it was not forthcoming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually I was on my way out the door and he sent me a message saying "fine, hate me, tis the season"...real mature....so I called him....hoping we could be adults....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it was about a half hour conversation in which he basically made out that he would have reacted just like I did, but the whole mix up was still all my fault because I lost my temper and when people do that he just says "fuck em"....real mature....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unwilling to take that I tried to converse with him and come to some sort of resolution that didn't make me feel hurt and angry....no dice....all i got was "I don't know why we're arguing about this, I agree with you..."....and "well sorry".....nothing that made me feel as if he even remotely cared how he had made me feel....eventually I just told him "fine....we agree, but I want you to know that I feel very hurt and that's why I'm still upset" and he gave me one final "well I'm sorry for that" (sounding not at all as if that were true but rather like he was pacifying someone nagging him to do laundry)....so I hung up and spent the next five hours feeling like punching him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around supper time I finally got a message with a real apology...I messaged him back to say thank you for being an adult and if he still wanted to see me he could come to the party best friends' bf was having.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard nothing back from him for a while and the party began...eventually he messaged me and I called him and we talked about it.....and things felt better....he was going home the next morning and so couldn't make the party cuz he had too much packing....but he might be coming home early so maybe we could see each other before I left for home after all....a few texts before Christmas and things seemed fine...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that the talking about things was particularly great.....he finally told me what had happened that night and it seems likely that he got drunk and puked....which may or may not mean he had been drinking and driving. ...not very impressive....he also felt the need to tell me that the mail girl was throwing herself at him....in order to make me jealous...which I didn't feel and was a bit annoyed that he was still being so petulant....but in general we talked about things like we always have as friends....which was good...but I certainly believed he was still interested in an us of some sort from the conversation.....right up to Christmas eve....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-4151239658952218845?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/4151239658952218845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=4151239658952218845' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/4151239658952218845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/4151239658952218845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/12/rarely-mentioned-part-vi.html' title='rarely mentioned part VI'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-7298812860693566402</id><published>2007-12-30T03:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T03:57:37.831-05:00</updated><title type='text'>rarely mentioned V</title><content type='html'>Again, looked forward to Friday....we both had plans early on in the evening though and decided to meet up after we had met our respective responsibilities....he had a staff Christmas party, I was meeting some friends for dancing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided we'd message each other when we could get away...he expected around 8-ish.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 9 or 10 we started texting back and forth and it sounded like he was having trouble getting a cab home....the loose plan was for him to get his car and then pick me up....around 11 he texted me that he was in the cab, was gonna drop friends off and then we'd hook up.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then it was midnight....so I texted a message to see what was going on....and got this rather rude reply that he was "out of commission and would call me tomorrow".....which to be frank, pissed me right off.....here's why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. it was only because he said he hadn't that I believed he hadn't blown me off on tuesday&lt;br /&gt;2. he had been on his way....what the hell had come up that he was blowing me off now?&lt;br /&gt;3. because we had made plans to get together, I had not made plans to get back to best friends' place.....at least a $50-$70 cab ride home.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I messaged him back and then called...and then messaged...and by 1am I was pissed...at that point I got some rather rude messages informing me that the farmer was sick.....clearly not from the farmer himself....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I lost my temper and left two rather angry messages on his phone. I mean wtf? Why is your friend texting me to break plans with me? Why is he acting like I am bothering you and why is he being rude?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shouldn't have lost my temper of course, but I felt supremely fucked over. I was SOOO mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I eventually left and started walking toward where I was gonna catch a cab....and called best friend to blow off some steam.....and thankfully she offered to come get me....which really was an imposition cuz it meant she had to drive all the way from her place to get me and then all the way back....after she had already been driving to and from her bf's.....arg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to bed utterly rageful....what a jerk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-7298812860693566402?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/7298812860693566402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=7298812860693566402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/7298812860693566402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/7298812860693566402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/12/rarely-mentioned-v.html' title='rarely mentioned V'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-7469484936471724528</id><published>2007-12-29T05:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T05:22:22.868-05:00</updated><title type='text'>rarely mentioned part IV</title><content type='html'>Tuesday I looked forward to.  And looked great....and all day we messaged back and forth to set plans....and then he never messaged me to say he was done work....and I was so disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talked the next day and figured out that neither of us has received messages from the other....it was like cosmic forces were keeping us together because it had been the only night that really worked out of my whole visit....i was so disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talked about it over the next two days.....while I was at my mom's.....so I was terribly distracted and felt much guilt over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, we did talk about our reflections on the previous date and did make plans to see each other the Friday I returned. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But things really fell apart that Friday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-7469484936471724528?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/7469484936471724528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=7469484936471724528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/7469484936471724528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/7469484936471724528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/12/rarely-mentioned-part-iv.html' title='rarely mentioned part IV'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-1238015575536452493</id><published>2007-12-29T05:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T05:18:47.408-05:00</updated><title type='text'>rarely mentioned part III</title><content type='html'>Dinner was spectacular. We had wine (he not so much because his dad is an alcoholic and he has never been drunk) and appetizers and dinner and desert and coffee...and it was a splendid time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However the issue of us did come up. And having had a bit of wine, I was very direct with my answers to questions....and he called me on some behaviors that I was not particularly attending to and betrayed my discomfort. Which was fair since I'd been giving him my perspective on his work situation and had ended up sounding more critical than I would prefer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, his attentiveness and ability to throw me off my control game made him infinitely appealing and I realized I did want something to happen...though I was still worried about fucking up our friendship, which I was unwilling to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after dinner he said "where to" and I said "your place" but somehow I apparently sent mixed signals and he decided to take me back to my best friends....I didn't really understand why, though we talked about the mixed signal issue on another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, when we parked at best friend's, we chatted benignly for maybe thirty seconds and then I said, with my usual lack of aplomb and more than voluptuous directness, "alright, I'm going to say goodnight and then I'm going to kiss you" and did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it was lovely...and continued for about an hour. It was quite wonderful. He pulled at my hair, kissed me too hard, and was very masculine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I said goodnight, knowing he had to be up early....and he mentioned something about meeting up Tuesday....which was good for me, sorta...I was planning on heading home on Tuesday but had no good reason that Wednesday wasn't just as good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-1238015575536452493?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/1238015575536452493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=1238015575536452493' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1238015575536452493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1238015575536452493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/12/rarely-mentioned-part-iii.html' title='rarely mentioned part III'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-5519472710316031795</id><published>2007-12-29T05:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T05:11:20.509-05:00</updated><title type='text'>rarely mentioned part II</title><content type='html'>As I said, we stayed in touch but barely....but we really reconnected when I sent him an email at some point with the thinking that I really didn't want to lose touch and that maybe we should exchange msn addresses....at least that's how I remember things going.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the last year we have traded calls and messages of the frustrations in our lives....and its been nice....and one thing I have noticed is that the inexperience and lack of assertiveness I perceived was apparently gone. He had become, not to mince words, horny and happy about it. He no longer struck me as someone who couldn't handle me. But then, it didn't really matter because there was Timbuctoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shared this story with the farmer....and we decided that when I was home over Christmas that we would have dinner and bitch about our respective lives....and at the time I thought it might be nice to see where the booze took me....not to mention how much I love dining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily we had set the date and he had penciled me in because his neuroticism over the last year had clearly led to serious problems at work that led him to be working quite busily when I came into town. I tried to make plans to see him before hand, but they didn't work out....I hadn't actually realized he'd made our dinner an appointment in his book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, the first time I saw him was dinner....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-5519472710316031795?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/5519472710316031795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=5519472710316031795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/5519472710316031795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/5519472710316031795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/12/rarely-mentioned-part-ii.html' title='rarely mentioned part II'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-9130720322913781612</id><published>2007-12-29T04:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T05:04:55.959-05:00</updated><title type='text'>rarely mentioned part I</title><content type='html'>A story for the times......I've surely mentioned this gentleman in my blog but I have no recollection of what name I gave him...so we will call him farmer....his story begins long ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met the farmer as early as my first year...I could check my transcripts to confirm this, but it was at the latest second year of my first degree....we applied to the new program the same year...and got in. So after those first two classes in which I found the farmer tall and handsome but relatively unassertive, I ended up spending quite a bit more time with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In those years I held a great many people at arm's length. Fresh off of my relationship with Jesse I was not about to deal with people being interested in me when I wasn't interested in them. As a result, I got to know the farmer and made it abdundantly, if not verbally clear that there would be nothing between us. Of course he never tried anything so there really was little to be concerned with.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My attraction to him peaked and fell, though never reached a level high enough to act on...still, the thought crossed my mind...his neurotic musings, his frustration with his family, his truck....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last event I really marked in my memory was that we went to grad together. He looked good but still, no significant stirrings....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were friends and I liked it that way....I was to learn much much later that many people thought I felt differently, but who cares about them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We kept in touch. He went to law school, I went to grad school. My first year back I believe we had coffee....the second year back we didn't....third year I didn't come home. The fourth year is this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it bears mentioning that upon beginning law school he started dating a girl in his class....never really met her, seemed nice.....they were together for four years....really lost touch with him after a while and only reconnected long after they broke up. And that's where the tail will begin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-9130720322913781612?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/9130720322913781612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=9130720322913781612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/9130720322913781612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/9130720322913781612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/12/rarely-mentioned-part-i.html' title='rarely mentioned part I'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-9049803353285159365</id><published>2007-12-17T15:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T15:15:30.888-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a misspent youth and a missed story</title><content type='html'>Since some day this will be the record that I look to for details of my misspent love affairs, I should related a night not long after Timbuctoo left my life for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week after his email, I had promised a friend of Jaxx's that I would have drinks with him and his friends since we hadn't done drinks in ages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also so happened that my supervisor was buying us beer at 3pm to celebrate one of our techs getting a full time job elsewhere in the department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an interesting night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started at the pub and eventually learned that the tech was not able to go home for the night and I proceeded to offer up my futon. Fine. No big deal...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Jaxx and his friends showed up having decided that since I was at this pub they may as well join me rather than having me join them at the other pub.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So suddenly I was right next to Jaxx feeling my heart flutter....definitely a pleasant feeling. Jaxx's friend (let's call him Redd) had to leave fairly early in the evening because he was hosting a party...so the tech, Jaxx, and I eventually ended up going for sushi...and more beer...and then trying to brave a blizzard to get to the beer store...which sadly was closed when we arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, the courageous twosome showed up and we piled into their car and headed to Jaxx's for some Wii and beer. It turned out to be a fabulous time. The boys played guitar too loud, we played Wii baseball much to my delight and Jaxx and I had much time for an intimate conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually Jaxx's gf called and so reality kicked back in....we all went dancing and had great fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the male of the twosome, me, and the techie headed back to my place where we had more booze that was unneeded and the male of the twosome and I made out a bit just for fun...and he promised to tell the female all about it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually he left and it was just me and the techie...who gets a little creepy when drunk, I learned and we spent a few minutes on my futon where I struggled to stay conscious and he shared some details about his life that were outright scandalous....finally I just said I was going to bed and passed out....what a night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thrilled to know that Jaxx is still attractive to me....thrilled to have fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-9049803353285159365?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/9049803353285159365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=9049803353285159365' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/9049803353285159365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/9049803353285159365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/12/misspent-youth-and-missed-story.html' title='a misspent youth and a missed story'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-3808885606262227800</id><published>2007-12-17T15:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T15:06:05.032-05:00</updated><title type='text'>do you feel like a man?</title><content type='html'>funny, I don't feel so bad....I feel relieved....and knowing that the person I was in love with doesn't actually exist sure makes things simpler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, my heart feels fine...I've been waiting for the crash but it hasn't happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a good month, considering...after a rather intoxicated few weeks and a great deal of self indulgence in the form of new clothes, I realize that i am just not shattered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly I am seeing how ridiculous his behavior is/was and since we've had zero interaction there's not a lot of that heart break fluttering...which is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, there's a new boy to chase...and Jaxx, while now with someone, is someone that I am clearly still interested in and who is still interested in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm home for the holidays now and somehow have managed to get a phone number and hook up with a friend.....the sounds of which make me worried that I'm being self-destructive, but I have to say that I don't feel bad...I don't feel desperate, I just feel good that I don't have to hide my life any more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-3808885606262227800?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/3808885606262227800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=3808885606262227800' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/3808885606262227800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/3808885606262227800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/12/do-you-feel-like-man.html' title='do you feel like a man?'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-6273150166833466021</id><published>2007-11-21T01:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T01:49:52.295-05:00</updated><title type='text'>dear Jerk....</title><content type='html'>Dear Timbuctoo.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if I saw you at the supermarket and you said "what, no hello?" I'd say. "you didn't bother to say goodbye."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he didn't. I know that anyone who read my blog before is thinking I told you so....and all my friends who I haven't got the courage to tell yet are thinking "I told you so" but I guess I have no argument anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that I could say "happily ever after" and for a while it was....but then I found out that he is like every other cheater in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could say that I left and knew better.....but I believed he could make the right decision....but he's pathetic, just like the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry world for being so blind. I'm sorry world for believing. I wish that I was not so naive. I wish that I was not so alone. I wish I could say I was surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate him now. And I cna't even wish him well. I hope for him only despair and depression. And he deserves it. That stupid fool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm a bad person. Or maybe I was the rainbow. But even rainbows can't smile in a thunderstorm. I hate him now. Because the idea of friends is absurd. Because he is pathetic. Because we had it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-6273150166833466021?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/6273150166833466021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=6273150166833466021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6273150166833466021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6273150166833466021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/11/dear-jerk.html' title='dear Jerk....'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-8581558967786699285</id><published>2007-11-18T15:07:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T15:25:50.094-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>clearly I spoke too soon. Because out of nowhere, just when I was reflecting on how solid and happy our relationship was, he broke up with me. Over email. And his reasons were ....reaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what is going on. But Friday morning I was looking forward to a productive day so I could have fun with him and my friends over the weekend end and I open my email and .....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Sunday afternoon and I have gotten one email from him since I responded to his email with an email and a phone call to his cell. It was one line saying he was probably giving his ex-gf his email passwords. So, I can't call, I can't email, and he deleted his facebook account. What the hell is going on here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only has he broken up with me and given me what looks like justifications rather than reasons, but he is not allowing me any way to communicate with him about it. And worst of all is that he hasn't shown the smallest inkling of regard for how I must feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like he's suddenly a different person. You know I stayed with him despite all of his broken promises, because I believed in him, that he was telling me the truth. And I have tried to explain to him that his concern that once we have kids that I will not be able to handle the pressure and take off is not my issue, but his. He just doesn't seem to get that as a result of my childhood experiences I try to make things better, rather than leave, even when I should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And his email was so unbelievably hurtful. He basically says that I have all these childhood issues that I'm not dealing with and that until I do, I won't be a good mother or mate. Which is such bullshit. He keeps telling me I have these issues, rather than acknowledging the ones I do have and have dealt with. Fuck, I'm so mad about this. How dare he blame this on me. How dare he act like the ruin of our relationship is MY childhood issues when it is HE that clams up and won't communicate. It is HE who can't trust me because of ONE measly incident that occurred before he had even committed to me. HOW DARE HE. He's holding me responsible for something he thinks I might do someday in the future. Something that isn't even consist with any of my behavior. What IS this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have done everything I could to let him make his decision on his own. I have done EVERYTHING he asked to give him space so he could decide. And then he makes his decision and changes it. And tries to justify it by saying, "well I did what I said, I broke up with her." As if that somehow made it better that he has changed his mind yet again. Who really has the issues with commitment here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's the hypocrisy of it all. He told me straight out that he's never really been attracted to her, that he never thought about marriage with her, and that he wants a relationship where he loves and is loved equally. So why is he doing this? We had the kind of love that everyone in the world wishes for, at least so I thought. We felt free to talk to each other about things bothering us, we were very open sexually, we had fun together.....I just can't believe he threw me away like last week's trash. I deserve better than this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His email started with him saying he was going to tell her about cheating on her. Which I have always said that I would support him if he wanted to do that. And he goes on to talk about how our relationship just couldn't be right if he doesn't get this closure. And then basically goes on to say that he doesn't know what he wants her to do, but he's gonna leave it up to her whether they get back together. What the fuck is that? After all his time with his therapist learning to come to grips with the fact that you can' t be with someone because of guilt, he is just gonna let her decide? Of course she'll stay with him. She stayed with an abusive guy, why not this? It's ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's the statement that he feels his relationship with her has been "whisked away". Whisked away, eh? That 8 years just flew by.  And then I came along and ruined everything. Took only 2 years. And his relationship was just whisked away. Does he really think that makes ANY sense? It's absurd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm left feeling used and abused. He has been so concerned that Karen not get too hurt in all this that he is CONSTANTLY breaking my heart and now he has done the ultimate...just completely disregarded how I feel at all.  Because he needs to focus on him, on his self-growth. Some explanation. This is NOT how you treat someone you "loved more intensely than anyone ever."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-8581558967786699285?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/8581558967786699285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=8581558967786699285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8581558967786699285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8581558967786699285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/11/clearly-i-spoke-too-soon.html' title=''/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-4526624613988126045</id><published>2007-11-09T11:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T11:23:40.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the chase</title><content type='html'>Here's a question....why can't I find a water bottle made of "safe" plastic (#2 HDPE, #4 LDPE, or #5 PP) that has a Brita-style filter? Seriously, you'd think this one was obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can find TONS of sport bottles with filters and TONS of "safe" plastic sport bottles but NOWHERE can I find one that is BOTH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND Brita has DISCONTINUED their filtering sport bottle in Canada....and has no plans for a new one. Btw, their customer service was terrible. First they answered the wrong question (because they ignored the form they FORCE you to fill out) and then they just said "we have no plans to produce a sport bottle." It was like a robot had answered my questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what about Nalgene? They have started producing a proper plastic bottle...isn't it a match made in heaven for Brita and Nalgene to team up? What is going on here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone knows of a sport bottle that is "safe" plastic and has a Brita style filter, for the love of God, tell me so I can stop complaining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-4526624613988126045?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/4526624613988126045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=4526624613988126045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/4526624613988126045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/4526624613988126045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/11/chase.html' title='the chase'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-5843261268406938920</id><published>2007-11-09T11:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T11:18:18.401-05:00</updated><title type='text'>cut to the chase</title><content type='html'>Ok, I've been away a while. The news is this: Timbuctoo finally broke up with his gf. I feel like slime, but I think things are gonna be ok.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-5843261268406938920?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/5843261268406938920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=5843261268406938920' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/5843261268406938920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/5843261268406938920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/11/cut-to-chase.html' title='cut to the chase'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-6765412079243843525</id><published>2007-09-08T09:23:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T09:27:03.738-04:00</updated><title type='text'>been a while</title><content type='html'>I haven't had anything to say for a while. Things in my life are in a settled state of unsurety....I guess I don't feel sad or angry....I'm just sort of floating along trying to be as content as possible in this intractable situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like things are going to work out. And today was the first day that I realized that my youth is almost over....very soon I will no longer have my own place, my own stuff. Very soon I won't be crazy partying camel.....and I don't feel sad, though I do feel a bit worried that I'm not ready...but I also feel like if I don't take the plunge soon I won't be able to. And this is what I told him. Soon. Not now, but soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Staying healthy is hard. Staying happy is hard....but things are ok right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-6765412079243843525?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/6765412079243843525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=6765412079243843525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6765412079243843525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6765412079243843525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/09/been-while.html' title='been a while'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-4122156280753405186</id><published>2007-08-12T23:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T23:21:18.774-04:00</updated><title type='text'>no peace</title><content type='html'>I feel very anxious right now...on edge....like I'm failing at something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indeed this last week has shown me I am failing at a few things, but I don't think this is the cause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly I have become so exhausted by my life that simple etiquette and tact have become a lost art...and the art of being sociable has nearly left me completely. I felt it over and over again...pure exhaustion and no interest in talking or getting to know people...just exhaustion. I hated it...I felt boring and uninteresting and unfriendly. I hated it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, I just feel wasted...as though there are so many things I SHOULD be doing but am unwilling to do.....though I have done a few of the thins I wanted to do today, I have mostly taken it easy....is this lethargy the result of much needed rest or something else? I just feel BLAH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be healthy, I want to be productive, I want to be good. But right now I don't want to be anything...not asleep, not awake...just at rest...but I am not....I feel tortured by expectation and frustration.....where is my peace?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-4122156280753405186?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/4122156280753405186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=4122156280753405186' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/4122156280753405186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/4122156280753405186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/08/no-peace.html' title='no peace'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-8549334001891064892</id><published>2007-07-21T16:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T16:27:44.664-04:00</updated><title type='text'>depressed</title><content type='html'>This whole thing is so frustrating. And I am feeling more and more like even if Timbuctoo gets his head out of his ass that it will be a long hard battle to rebuild the trust in our relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside of breaking the most important promise he has ever made to me, there's the fact that he refuses to answer my direct questions, which leaves me guessing the answers to questions I need answers to. It seems more and more clear that he is refusing to answer me because he knows that if he does my response will be "goodbye." Which of course is completely unfair to me and is why I'm not sure I can trust him again. How can I trust someone who would rather leave me miserable and without answers than let me get on with my life. It's selfish....he's simply avoiding facingme. I  have been so good to him as he made his decision that for him to treat me this way is unbelievable. I deserve more respect that this. This is NOT the way to give our relationship a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, I've been unbearably depressed the last two days, but I'm finally coming out of it. I'm tired of waiting for him to respond and am simply going to live my life as though he were no longer a part of it. What choice do I have? I'm so disappointed in him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-8549334001891064892?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/8549334001891064892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=8549334001891064892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8549334001891064892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8549334001891064892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/07/depressed.html' title='depressed'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-5064695262371082405</id><published>2007-07-07T15:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T15:45:20.451-04:00</updated><title type='text'>world sucks</title><content type='html'>Every day that goes by I feel more and more distant from Timbuctoo. Every time I hear from him, I don't feel less hopeful, just more like I don't want to bother with this anymore. That's what happens when you don't see someone. And I kinda have to wonder if that's happening with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole thing is just dumb. He emailed me today to say his therapist said it would be "best for all parties involved" if he didn't see me for a while. Who exactly are these parties? What am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait? Fuck that. Clearly this is better for her, because it just means Timbuctoo's not cheating on her, and it COULD be better for Timbuctoo in the sense of forgetting about me, but given that his relationship with her is crap, that's hardly the case...., and me? Well, out of sight out of mind, which is good until my exam, but then what. Sit around and wait? I'm just frustrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I know that it is important he deals with his issues, but that also always seems to involve him putting me on hold. There's never any putting her on hold...why didn't he encourage her to start in June instead of September, the jerk. I mean how much LESS complicated would things have been?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't know if I'm doing the right thing by just letting things happen here. I have the sneaking suspicion that I would save myself a huge amount of heart ache and time if I just walked away now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-5064695262371082405?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/5064695262371082405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=5064695262371082405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/5064695262371082405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/5064695262371082405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/07/world-sucks.html' title='world sucks'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-3312940050079278798</id><published>2007-07-03T22:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T22:15:08.564-04:00</updated><title type='text'>my alphabet is a bit short</title><content type='html'>I miss Q. I do. I realized it the other day when I saw someone how looked like him and it was about a minute later that I realized I'd been following him.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on the good side, we did chat for a few hours last night, which really made me feel better...though he was sad about a recent breakup and the whole relationsip thing.....but I shared my frustration, he shared his and the missing went away a bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-3312940050079278798?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/3312940050079278798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=3312940050079278798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/3312940050079278798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/3312940050079278798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-alphabet-is-bit-short.html' title='my alphabet is a bit short'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-2029985881878445076</id><published>2007-07-01T20:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T21:02:01.976-04:00</updated><title type='text'>walk on by</title><content type='html'>Such a rough week. Things were going so well, and then suddenly, out of nowhere.....Timbuctoo turns into a total jerk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I finally manage to track him down and call him on it and he basically tells me that he's barely keeping it together....that he's been avoiding me because he can't deal with the high and subsequent crash of being with me. That he needs to get some help. Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fully support him going for therapy, but how can I help but think that basically wants happening is he's realized he can't put off breaking up with his gf any more and can't do it. That he promised me but doesn't have the balls to do it, not combined with the guilt (of what we've done) and the regret for letting his relationship with her go so wrong. And I can see his world of avoidance crashing in on him as he finally realizes that not seeing his mother is cruel, even if being with her is hard on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he won't say it, but the truth is that his promises to me now mean absolutely nothing. I mean let's face it. Any therapist is gonna suggest him and his gf go for couples counciling...which means basically that he fesses up to his relationship with me and starts trying to fix his relationship with her, instead. And as much as I agree that you should try what you can to fix a relationship, they shouldn't be in a relationship and fixing it is not going to work. But him and his "relationships take work" mentality will end up sticking with her because he's terrified of admitting that their relationship shouldn't be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woant desperately to believe that the therapist will see this, but he won't. And I know I should give Timbuctoo more credit for being able to wade through good and bad suggestions, but let's face it, my chances aren't good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am so angry. How could he promise me. How could he? Two weeks before the biggest exam of my life, he basically broke up with me. And he wasn't even going to talk to me about it...just avoid me until he got his shit together. I want to scream about how unfair it all is. And cry. And I haven't told anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how can I be angry at him? He's falling apart. He said he was hurt that I would suggest the resons for his avoidance that I did....but what can he expect? Until he actually does what he's said he will do, how can I trust him? And I've been as patient as I can be. I have basically given him an entire year more than it was supposed to be....in all fairness, the circumstances warranted it. But I told him that the end of July was it. I need my self respect. I need a deadline for going on with my life, either with or without him. And is it fair to me to change that because he can't cope with the pressure? I don't think it is. And I'm not going to change it. I can't live like this. I won't. Like he said when we talked about the fact that his gf was gonna stay for the summer, rather than leave in June as planned...if he can't break up with her, he doesn't deserve me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to another infuriating fact. I realize it is a problem he has that he clams up when he's upset, but all that was real in our relationship was the communication...the most important thing....and he never bothered to share the fact that she decided to stay (never bothered to let her know about the apparently imminent breakup so she coudl consider that). I'm so furious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is that I was stupid to believe things would turn out my way. And I'm just deluding myself to think that waiting this month will change anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-2029985881878445076?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/2029985881878445076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=2029985881878445076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/2029985881878445076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/2029985881878445076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/07/walk-on-by.html' title='walk on by'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-6213971635466581482</id><published>2007-06-08T00:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T00:35:51.398-04:00</updated><title type='text'>creased</title><content type='html'>Today I feel annoyed. I did almost no work and had almost no desire to do work. Plus I scraped my arm and am feeling like I want to be single. I hate this. I hate this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do with myself any more. I need Timbuctoo to be here or be gone. I hate this in between.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bah. Why are things so complicated. I don't want to complain about him. That's not why I feel cranky today. I feel cranky today because I am frustrated with my paper. So frustrated I don't even want to write about it. I hate that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Where is Jaxx? Maybe part of my mild obsession with him is related to the fact that because I can only talk to him when I'm pretending my life is a little different, that I can pretend away all of the thins that make me unhappy....a nice little bubble of utopia. Poor Jaxx. I know he's a real person who doesn't deserve to be a part of my fantasy world. I know he could never be perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to find some peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I need to not give any thought to what it would be like to be with someone who is the complete opposite of Timbuctoo (I'm thinking Mr. Greene...Frizzy's right...he's awesome...it's absurd that he's single...and we totally hit it off).........sigh....I'm so old.....how can I be this frisky?  Why do I feel unprepared for commitment? Is it because he's not committed? God I hope so....I can't take much more of this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-6213971635466581482?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/6213971635466581482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=6213971635466581482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6213971635466581482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6213971635466581482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/06/creased.html' title='creased'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-8233220582657881935</id><published>2007-06-06T09:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-06T10:00:37.315-04:00</updated><title type='text'>today</title><content type='html'>Today I should be moving onto my next comps topic (language) but instead I am STILL working on attention....I need more time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-8233220582657881935?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/8233220582657881935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=8233220582657881935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8233220582657881935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8233220582657881935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/06/today.html' title='today'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-7321044959438694315</id><published>2007-06-05T23:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-05T23:31:20.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'>drama queen</title><content type='html'>I feel it today...that desperation....not quite for drama...but for attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be patient. Though God knows I've been more than patient already. Whenn I ask myself if he deserves me keeping my options open, the answer is yes....but when I ask myself if he deserves me actively increasing my interaction with Jaxx, the answer is no. But I still really want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it just Jaxx? Or is it me? I feel like when I meant Timbuctoo that I made a big deal out of it, how great we were together and how much I felt for him. That hasn't changed. I still want him with me and am sad when he isn't. The difference is that I am frustrated by his inability to make the final move, fearful that I am wrong about us (though at the same time, sure I am not), and worst of all, so at peace when I'm with Jaxx.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The great thing about hanging out with Jaxx (and his friends) is that I don't have to worry about what my friends are thinking or about not mentioning Timbuctoo the wrong way (they don't know him really). And Jaxx makes me laugh....and he is smart and opinionated so being around him isn't boring. I guess that's part of it. Timbuctoo is not boring but when he's with me, it's just me and him. I can sit on the patio with Jaxx and company and just laugh the evening away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's more than that. I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit that the stoic sadness in his eyes when we part doesn't make me want to pull him to me and squeeze. When our eyes meet, I have a hard time looking away. There's this quiet passion to him that takes my breath away. And hanging out with him, it's intoxicating. I really do just like being around him. He hints very infrequently and very subtly that he would still be with me if I wanted him to, or give me a private concert if I wanted one and I feel like a horrible person when I take these things lightly and laugh them off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed our night together and I'm sorry that he and I never had a chance to be together. He's not Timbuctoo, I KNOW that Timbuctoo is the person I want to grow old with. But I do truly wish that I had had a chance to explore Jaxx and his passion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intoxicating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-7321044959438694315?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/7321044959438694315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=7321044959438694315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/7321044959438694315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/7321044959438694315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/06/drama-queen.html' title='drama queen'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-6271033846121336943</id><published>2007-05-07T23:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T23:16:22.727-04:00</updated><title type='text'>tripping on my words</title><content type='html'>too long....he's been away too long...and this is taking too long....and I can't stop thinking about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every second day something reminds me of you. And every other day I run into you. And I see the hungry in your eyes....do you see it in mine? I see those eyes and wonder if you are hungry to know if I'm gonna make a thing out of it or if you are hungry for me to invite you in again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one moment I believe you think I'm ridiculous and a little unstable. In the next I think you still feel this. And I want so badly foryou to still feel this....even though I shouldn't be feeling this. And even though I may never be able to. I chose this. I chose this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every day I look for you. And every day I hope to find you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he comes back to me...and I forget a little bit and pray I'm making the right choice but grieve that I won't have a chance with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have said all that I could say to you. Anything more would just sound pathetic and belabor only temptation. And still when I see you I want to stroke your hair and feel your hands on me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-6271033846121336943?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/6271033846121336943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=6271033846121336943' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6271033846121336943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6271033846121336943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/05/tripping-on-my-words.html' title='tripping on my words'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-1189805047871497280</id><published>2007-04-11T16:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T16:47:54.428-04:00</updated><title type='text'>it sure is spring</title><content type='html'>Ha. I'm just panicking. I must be. Because everywhere I look there are beautiful, beautiful boys. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess who added me to facebook today? Jesse. Guess who looks unbelievable with a kid atop his shoulders? Jesse....now officially married....But so typically Jesse....his "Fam" album has twelve pics of his kid and one of his truck...no wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad we're not together but I still want to squeeze him and make things better. It kills me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm having to fight with myself not to search for Buzzer online....what is wrong with me? Bah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-1189805047871497280?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/1189805047871497280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=1189805047871497280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1189805047871497280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1189805047871497280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/04/it-sure-is-spring.html' title='it sure is spring'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-7415596181214411768</id><published>2007-04-08T14:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-08T14:28:06.205-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost</title><content type='html'>He really didn't deserve last night. It had nothing to do with him, but he didn't deserve it. It seems clear to me that my behavior is a reaction to frustration with him, though. On one level I understand but it is killing our relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he was supposed to come watch hockey with Junior and me last night. Buzzer came too. And I like Buzzer, I find him attractive, Timbuctoo knows this and it kinda bugshim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, things went along just as they always do with the three of us drinking plenty....and then we headed to a party. Timbuctoo came to the party. Dead sober, only because he wanted to see me. Which was really sweet, but despite spending the entire hockey game wishing he was there, by the time I was at the party, I was too drunk to appreciate his presence. And I think I was a little angry with him for not coming to the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless, I continued to flirt with Buzzer in the way that Buzzer and I are both completely comfortable with....and with no thought that it was going anywhere on either of our part. But of course, it wouldn't seem that way to the very sober, and rather jealous Timbuctoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, he drove us all home and he and I had it out back at my place. Unfortunately, I was very drunk for a good portion of it, though I sobered up by the end. What it comes down to is that my behavior was completely inappropriate for someone with a bf...but that's the problem. Here I am trying to behave like I have a bf, but appear to all the world that I don't. It's not easy. My friends keep trying to set me up with guys that, were I not attached, I'd be interested in. And the direct result of that is resentment towards Timbuctoo. For not breakign up with his gf. For not having made his decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I understand his position. I do. He wanted to wait until his gf was done with school so he wouldn't be leaving her high and dry. But when does that translate into action on his part? And furthermore, he told me when we talked last week that he hasn't actually decided whether he wants to be with me or her. Now, I appreciate that he still has doubts, so do I, but that I am waiting around for him to still make a decision, just frustrates me to no end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm basically burning bridges with perfectly good guys waiting for him to MAYBE be with me. That's just not fair. And I realize I can't just tell him to make a decision and he will, but it's the reason why I keep acting so badly. I'm angry at him and trying to keep my options open. And it's wrong to do to him, but there's nothing right about this situation at all anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we have is so good, so why is it in so much doubt? I'm so frustrated. Maybe he's right, maybe I'm not ready to settle down right away....but I don't know and it is so unfair that I have to choose outright. How is it right that I have to decide either not to be with him or to marry him....why don't I get the time to feel it out like the rest of the world. It's just not fair. And this at least, is my own fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate that I have to pour my heart out on my computer because he's not here for me to talk to. And that is a big strain on our relationship too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I am behaving badly. I know why I'm behaving badly. He's just not giving me any good reason to do things differently. And I need a reason. I believe we would be happy together, but I'm going to ruin his belief in that because I'm frustrated that he's not with me. How stupid is that? BAH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-7415596181214411768?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/7415596181214411768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=7415596181214411768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/7415596181214411768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/7415596181214411768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/04/lost.html' title='Lost'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-8172122678765705379</id><published>2007-04-01T15:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-01T15:11:54.841-04:00</updated><title type='text'>still whirling</title><content type='html'>sigh. i really do want to have my cake and eat it too. I believe in me and timbuctoo but every time people bring up Jaxx.....bah! Boys suck. Not being ready to grow up sucks. I need to see the future. Bah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-8172122678765705379?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/8172122678765705379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=8172122678765705379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8172122678765705379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8172122678765705379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/04/still-whirling.html' title='still whirling'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-6585070378933303636</id><published>2007-03-28T19:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T19:17:22.269-04:00</updated><title type='text'>smells like bread</title><content type='html'>If I lay here&lt;br /&gt;If I just lay here&lt;br /&gt;Would you lie with me and just forget  the world?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know....cheesy cuz it's so current. But still good poetry. I like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-6585070378933303636?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/6585070378933303636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=6585070378933303636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6585070378933303636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/6585070378933303636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/03/smells-like-bread.html' title='smells like bread'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-1914184334194887161</id><published>2007-03-25T13:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T13:27:34.816-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Back into hell...</title><content type='html'>Who knew I could be so horrible. I feel bad but glad all at once and I am forced to ask myself what I believe in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been so long since I confessed my sins here....About a month ago I was out with friends and Timbuctoo and ran into Jaxx...my last post I guess. Timbcutoo was wonderful; let me have my time with him. Not a lot but some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Timbuctoo wasn't around last night. And I saw Jaxx and the foolish heart in me wasn't ready to let things go. So we talked and danced and of course things became serious. I don't know why I feel like I have to confess to Jaxx. I guess I just want him to know why I can't be with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he is so amazing. And I let things happen. There were no illusions. We both wanted it and we both knew it couldn't last. We just knew that we wanted more time together and that the passion between us couldn't be denied. It sounds so cheesy. But when he kissed me, just right, I was glad that I had done this thing, even though Timbuctoo would be hurt to a degree I can't even fathom if he ever found out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's true that he and I are not married, he hasn't even truly committed to me. And that is the only thing that makes this even slightly ok. It won't happen again, but I'm glad it happened. Jaxx is wonderful. He's everything I thought he could be.  And things didn't go very far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a little confusing, but I still believe in me and Timbuctoo. I just realize that maybe I could be happy with someone else. But I guess I don't whether I should tell him this. If I did would he end things with me? Would he take it as a reason to stay with her? Or would he be lost because he now feel there is no one for him? Or would he accept this and love me no differently? Could he forgive me? Could he understand? I'm not sure I understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is so complicated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-1914184334194887161?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/1914184334194887161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=1914184334194887161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1914184334194887161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1914184334194887161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/03/back-into-hell.html' title='Back into hell...'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-1333084108484427339</id><published>2007-02-18T11:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-18T12:08:44.318-05:00</updated><title type='text'>stock</title><content type='html'>Last night was  quite a night. I don't know what to do with myself....whether things went well or if I seemed a fool.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to say. Last night I happened to run into Jaxx....who is just as charming and sweet as ever. And I was honest with Timbuctoo, who also happened to be out, and asked him if he could let me have some time with Jaxx, who I felt I needed to create some closure with. He didn't like it, but he knew it was important to me and gave me that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jaxx's smile melts me. I love to look at him, he has the most lovely lithe body too. Anyway, I wandered around the bar we had both had planned to go to, looking for him...and thought he wasn't there...I'd really given up when I looked over and there he was. So I went over and chatted with him, and he bought me a drink and then we went and danced a bit.....Timbuctoo was there, dancing and he was so good. I didn't like subjecting him to this, but I knew that I needed to find a way to tell Jaxx how I felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then Jaxx just turned to me and said "you know, that night at the club, I got the feeling I should have made a move." It was lovely. I led him off the dance floor and got to say exactly what I wanted to say to him for so long. And he was so sweet and honest about it. I know I was probably a little to huggy, making it harder for him and Timbuctoo but I couldn't help it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said that even though things couldn't happen between us that it mattered to him that I knew. And he laughed and said even though we could have been great, we could have been horrible too. I like him so much. And I told him I was sorry that we couldn't happen, too many times. He said he was happy for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if I was too over the top though, tellign him that Timbuctoo was here and that he had let me talk to Jaxx. I wonder if he felt somewhat set up or led on. I hope not. And I also wonder if I didn't come off silly being so sincere about how sorry I was. I mean he never emailed me, never tried to be around me.....but I've always felt that he and I had chemistry...there's always been the feeling that he wanted to be around me but didn't really know how to do it casually. I hope that is the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an important night. Timbuctoo earned so much respect. Though he did come in and posture a bit, it was not so much that I was angry....just enough to be annoyed, which is forgivable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was hard walking home with Timbuctoo that night, still feeling desire for Jaxx, and knowing that I had closed that door. Over the last few weeks I've been feeling so much doubt about me and Timbuctoo....about whether I am really as interested in him as I have led myself to believe....and I belive that I have made a good choice and that what I am feeling is the product of us being together for all intents and purposes for almost two years. But it is still hard. Now that I have committed to being with him, I feel myself struggling for freedom.  Something so long forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being with Timbuctoo  is right. I know finding another person who fits me like he does would be near impossible. I know doubts will always exist. But I need to choose. And I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that doesn't mean that I am not going to spend all day thinking about Jaxx and my doubts abotu Timbuctoo....sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-1333084108484427339?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/1333084108484427339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=1333084108484427339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1333084108484427339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1333084108484427339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/02/stock.html' title='stock'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-533197227883580192</id><published>2007-01-20T12:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-20T12:50:40.800-05:00</updated><title type='text'>lost in a sea of me</title><content type='html'>well, he finally managed to put into words his reasons for being incommunicado the last little while. I guess his reasons are as good as any, basically amounting to him not having the energy see me on top of do his job....which seems strange because how is seeing me too much with his job....doesn't he mean its too much with his job and his girlfriend? I guess that's what i'm interpretting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all intents and purposes he's broken up with me and I think i should feel something, but I don't right now and I'm not sure why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly I'm concerned about whether I want to bother playing volleyball. On the one hand, not playing would mean I never see him, I assume but on the other hand, how would me continuing to play go? His yank pal now can't stand me I'm sure for reasons more annoying than i care to share. Plus I would need a ride every week. Would it be fair to get a ride with my one friend every time? Shorty would probably be a bit suspicious, and it would be kind of unfair. Or does he think he'd still be picking me up occasionally?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess if anything I'm pissed that he can't make up his mind same as ever. Nothing's changed really. Things will still go as I expect them. Now that he's created distance with me, he no longer HAS to choose. And that is how it will go. I guess that upsets me. That he is in effect choosing to stay with someone I think is so wrong for him. I guess it means to me that he's a coward and that makes me sad. It also makes me sad having to start over. To find someone, to find someone who works. Some days I'm sure this will never happen again. Most days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how do I feel? Numb. Nothing's changed. Things will go on like the last two weeks. It's not like setting me free is going to change things. I'm still going to wish there was someone who worked for me and there won't be that someone. I guess on some level I always knew that someday I would have to accept that I would be single for ever, and maybe that day is today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I think about my life, I feel like there's nothing to it but work. I work because there is nothing else that makes me feel successful. At least I feel a bit happy when I finish a project. I have no lust for life anymore.  I think he has been it for a very long time.....I guess this makes me sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-533197227883580192?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/533197227883580192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=533197227883580192' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/533197227883580192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/533197227883580192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/01/lost-in-sea-of-me.html' title='lost in a sea of me'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-3149613772425561577</id><published>2007-01-18T17:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-20T12:53:01.346-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another night staring at the wall</title><content type='html'>I'm completely confused. And becoming increasingly aggravated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, where does he get off with putting down my choices of friends when his friends are not even nice people, let alone conscientious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, where does he get off with his lectures about how hard it is to make a marriage work when he makes absolutely no attempts to make his relationship work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third, who does he think he is? After all of our discussions of the importance of communication, suddenly he's never online, breaking plans, and not responding to my emails. If he has made up his mind, fine, he can say so. If he needs some time, fine, he can say so. But this is absolute bullshit. Is he avoiding me as he's done to her because he doesn't want to talk about it? Does he really think that I'm going to put up with that sort of treatment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even hurt at this point. Now I'm just pissed off. I don't deserve this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-3149613772425561577?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/3149613772425561577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=3149613772425561577' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/3149613772425561577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/3149613772425561577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/01/just-one-life.html' title='Another night staring at the wall'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-1404461846370316921</id><published>2007-01-13T18:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-13T18:34:34.223-05:00</updated><title type='text'>standing there</title><content type='html'>Sigh. I watch us talk and shake my head in frustration. I'm so frustrated with you, with the situation, with myself, that i can't bear to be affectionate. I want to say "I need a hug,"  but I can't. I don't want to be weak. And i'm so frustrated I am afraid i would start raging at you anyway. I want you to say it's going to be ok. That you love me and miss me and wish you were here with me. But that's not how it is. In the end, i know. I know that it's the easier path and the one that will satisfy the stronger need, the need for kids. I have been honest with you. And it is killing me to know that all of the work i put into this relationship will be for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it is hard to leave someone after so long. It makes the year and a half that I have put in seem like nothing. But i don't want to start over either. You may be older, but I'm still running out of time. Someone will have to start over, and i know it will be me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it kills me all the more because of how good our relationship is/was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is already broken. I can feel it. And just like last time i can see myself sitting here and taking no action.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-1404461846370316921?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/1404461846370316921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=1404461846370316921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1404461846370316921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1404461846370316921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/01/standing-there.html' title='standing there'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-1595947381193963971</id><published>2007-01-12T20:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-12T20:28:39.155-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hang the moon</title><content type='html'>Hell with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-1595947381193963971?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/1595947381193963971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=1595947381193963971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1595947381193963971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/1595947381193963971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/01/hang-moon.html' title='Hang the moon'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-483571715027260955</id><published>2007-01-11T18:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T18:11:51.560-05:00</updated><title type='text'>fired</title><content type='html'>you know, i just don't know what to do with him. I'm sick, I suppose and so feeling very needy but we have barely been in contact all week. I know he was sick and is probably busy with basketball, but you'd think he'd mention that. His emails are infrequent and not particularly affectionate. Am i just being paranoid because I'm feeling hormonal or is he shutting me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He keeps saying "this won't happen when we're together" ....and that is so unfair. First, he's implying that we WILL be together which he won't actually commit to and second, he's using it as an excuse for his behavior. Furthermore, I wouldn't be worried about him being distant if we WERE together and right now I'm really resenting the fact that I don't know how to feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grrrr... this whole thing is so dumb.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-483571715027260955?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/483571715027260955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=483571715027260955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/483571715027260955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/483571715027260955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/01/fired.html' title='fired'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-3872102236707064266</id><published>2007-01-01T11:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-01T11:31:08.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>what i really want to say....</title><content type='html'>....is that I am tired of waiting for you to make up your mind. I guess I let myself believe that you had made up your mind and were just waiting until the time was right to break up with her. But that's not the case. And now I feel like such a fool. What have I been doing? Why have I let this happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to be with me, then be with me.  Don't you get it? It doesn't take this long to decide. You don't need to think about it. Either you want me or you want her. Either way your future is bright. So stop wasting my time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-3872102236707064266?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/3872102236707064266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=3872102236707064266' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/3872102236707064266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/3872102236707064266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2007/01/what-i-really-want-to-say.html' title='what i really want to say....'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-8506525419748161618</id><published>2006-12-30T19:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T19:34:06.348-05:00</updated><title type='text'>homewrecker</title><content type='html'>Hm. Today was a bad day. Maybe i only need to blog when I have bad days, I don't know. But I have felt blah for the last few weeks. I feel without direction and without inspiration. All i want to do is lose myself in a world of someone else's fake life. I don't want to excercise or work or see my friends or party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I feel uncomfortably numb right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-8506525419748161618?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/8506525419748161618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=8506525419748161618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8506525419748161618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/8506525419748161618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/12/homewrecker.html' title='homewrecker'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-116718452405467117</id><published>2006-12-26T20:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T20:55:24.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>where am i</title><content type='html'>Ok, so i feel like a great big slug cuz I never run anymore. And to be frank, I don't want to run. i just feel like lazing around. And it's crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess this how I want things to be:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. run or do a mini work out every day...or how about five days a week? Three runs plus 2 work outs....plus volleyball, I guess...&lt;br /&gt;2. work an 8 hour day each week day&lt;br /&gt;3. not eat out&lt;br /&gt;4. not buy new clothes or shoes&lt;br /&gt;5. clean house when I get home and then weekly&lt;br /&gt;6. organize notes, articles, data&lt;br /&gt;7. do little jobs that have been hanging around all year (like send thank you notes, send congradulations cards, send insurance claims...yeesh)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-116718452405467117?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/116718452405467117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=116718452405467117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116718452405467117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116718452405467117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/12/where-am-i.html' title='where am i'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-116619502982440854</id><published>2006-12-15T09:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-15T10:03:49.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'>business sense</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I just don't understand.  How many of us have been happily working away in Starbucks or eating a travesty of a meal in MacDonalds only to be jolted from happy thoughts by an INCESSANT FUCKING BEEPING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that you need a signal that something is finished whatever it is  finished doing. But why for the love of Peter do staff completely ignore this noise as if it is not happening? Rather than attending the signal, they walk around and do completely other tasks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have heard these beeps go on for five minutes until I wanted to throw my laptop at thier cow eyes. What the FUCK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like my Starbucks. The staff are nice. But do the morons in charge of customer service and advertising seriously believe people like to hear this noise? Come up with a better plan people. Why not give all staff the key to turn the fucking noise off? Why not have a flashing sign facing away from customers to alert you? ARG!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-116619502982440854?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/116619502982440854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=116619502982440854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116619502982440854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116619502982440854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/12/business-sense.html' title='business sense'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-116608156833923137</id><published>2006-12-14T02:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T02:32:48.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Timbuctoo</title><content type='html'>I've never lied. And I've always shared with you my thoughts and fears. I wish I could leave you just for a moment and know everything could be the same when that moment ended. I was loyal to you today. And I hope you appreciate that. I believe he wanted to see me home. I believe I wanted to run my hands along his chest. But I believe in us. I believe that I have to give you and me a chance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-116608156833923137?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/116608156833923137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=116608156833923137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116608156833923137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116608156833923137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/12/dear-timbuctoo.html' title='Dear Timbuctoo'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-116608145653318742</id><published>2006-12-14T02:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T02:30:56.560-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Jaxx</title><content type='html'>Dear Jaxx,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;unless I make a serious mistake, or we get drunk and have a heart to heart, you'll never hear this. And to be perfectly honest, that eats at my love for Timbuctoo like an acid. The truth is that if not for him, I'd have let you follow me home. Truth is that I've longed to see you smile at me since the day we met. Truth is that I'm as interested as I sometimes appear to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the real truth is that I've committed to someone else. It makes me ache to feel that I'll never get to know what could have been between us. And it makes me ache to know that I say this while Timbuctoo goes home to someone else. And it makes me ache to know thata that I fantasize about something between us. I fantasize about him ending things with me. I fantasize about me making a mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love him. I do. I know that I can love him forever if he lets me. But on a very short list of regrets, you are a bold name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to see you smile tonight. I loved to watch your slender tallness dance. I loved be in your gaze. You have a special quality of making each person you talk to feel like the center of the universe, and I know that you may not see me as I see you. And you may even still be with that kind and gentle soul. But I have always wanted to stand on my toes and tilt my head to your lips. And I just wish you could know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that you wouldn't believe that I send you mixed signals. Or that I won't someday say "no" and have to stumble over the why I feel you deserve. I wish that the world were simple and I could be with you for a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel like we could be forever; I just feel like we should be somehow, somewhere. But I can't do that to him. After all we've done. Even if we were real, I couldn't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-116608145653318742?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/116608145653318742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=116608145653318742' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116608145653318742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116608145653318742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/12/dear-jaxx.html' title='Dear Jaxx'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-116554552079614276</id><published>2006-12-07T21:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T21:38:40.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'>without a dope beat to step to</title><content type='html'>I feel like nothing has changed in a very long time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sad. I'm not happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am stressed. I am too busy. I do feel guilty for things that I needen't. I do worry too much. I do spend too much money. I don't feel I'm as healthy as I should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have however, discovered TV on DVD. Or more honestly, pirated onto DVD. I know I that for the last few years I have preached the gospel of not watching tv, but now I realize my problem is not with tv shows, but with commercials. I LOVE some of the shows out right now...Lost, Prison Break, Heroes, 24, Battlestar Galactica, Spooks......what I HATE is having to wait a week to watch them. And having to put up with commercials while I am watching them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Junior and I watched the first two seasons of Lost this fall, getting through between 2 and 6 episodes every time we sat down. And it was awesome. Totally compelling. However, this season, trying to watch every Wednesday, I have no interest. It just doesn't do it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize now that my thirst for action adventure movies has been slaked by tv shows on DVD. The last few years has seen a decline in the genre and I've been getting more and more bored. But tv shows on DVD are like long movies. I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is so much more time to develop the love interest....I think I watched the first season Prison Break three times in a month. You laugh...but there is nothing like a good story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And speaking of good stories.....the return of book orders! stay tuned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-116554552079614276?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/116554552079614276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=116554552079614276' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116554552079614276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116554552079614276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/12/without-dope-beat-to-step-to.html' title='without a dope beat to step to'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-116121848878932257</id><published>2006-10-18T20:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T20:41:28.816-04:00</updated><title type='text'>grrrrr</title><content type='html'>You know what bugs me? The poor state of "help"  in the virtual world. It seemst that every time you click the help link, you end up sending a form to some address that responds with completely nonsensical information. This weekend I noticed that my email quota was WAY over. So I deleted some stuff, but the message hasn't gone away. I deleted everything new and it didn't go away....so I emailed the help people and then got three emails from them over the course of the next three days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first was a message saying they'd recieved my question. The second, I noticed today (three days after the last message) had an answer. The last message I got two days ago asking if I still needed help. At the time I didn't think I'd recieved any help and replied saying as much. Anyway, I was looking through the emails again today and realized there WAS a response covered in much garbage. I'd just missed it. So ISSUE 1: Why can't programmers program out the garbage that makes the emails completely nonsensical. I don't give a rat's ass about how the message is stored on your server. Get rid of it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN, then, I read the message. And guess what it was. "Hi. Here is a link describing ways to stay under your quota. If you still have a problem, phone us." Well thanks. Considering I specifically mentioned in the email that I wasn't over my quota, added stuff, was over, removed it all and was still over, clearly I dont' understand how to stay under my quota. Plus, I checked out the site. It was even worse than I expected...."This means that you had too much data in your inbox." And that's about as helpful as it got....it then went on to  explain why the email gets deleted but not why you might get an over limit message if you had almost nothing in your account. Awesome. ISSUE #2 - read the frigging questions sent you. Don't search for keywords. What a waste of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So potentially, I'm irretrievably losing mail (though since I download my mail to my computer and my inbox is always empty, I doubt it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to add insult.....I have been trying to sign up for online services with my medical insurance provider. They have an online form...except it tells me my insurance ID numebr is not valid....so I email them using thier handy dandy form....and get an email back with the instructions about how to sign up for online services....thanks. Cuz you couldn't tell from the message where I described step-by-step what I did, that I had done all that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is the world too busy to do anything properly? Why must we go through three layers of red tape and annoyance before maybe solving a simple problem. Arg.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-116121848878932257?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/116121848878932257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=116121848878932257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116121848878932257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116121848878932257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/10/grrrrr.html' title='grrrrr'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-116008960852303985</id><published>2006-10-05T19:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T19:06:48.556-04:00</updated><title type='text'>cheesy emotional music</title><content type='html'>Well, I think its safe to say this running thing is good. I always sort of dread it but then I do it and I feel like a champ. Today my mp3 player spit out "&lt;a href="http://members.fortunecity.com/ceugev/lyrics2/j008.htm" target="_new"&gt;St. Elmo's Fire&lt;/a&gt;" when I was about 11 minutes into my 25 minutes...Timbuctoo is right. It's all mental....I was listening the lyrics and thinking about scholarship applications and all of a sudden I was running much faster...just jumped right over my wall. What a feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if anyone cares, the cheesy lyrics were:&lt;br /&gt;"Play the game, you know you can't quit until it's won&lt;br /&gt;Soldier on, only you can do what must be done"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-116008960852303985?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/116008960852303985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=116008960852303985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116008960852303985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/116008960852303985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/10/cheesy-emotional-music.html' title='cheesy emotional music'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115872399712478193</id><published>2006-09-19T23:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T23:46:37.210-04:00</updated><title type='text'>seriously...you're killing me.</title><content type='html'>So. Today I found yet another error in my data. Yup. Yet another. What this really amounts to is meaning my thesis reports the wrong results for two its major measures. Great. Shoot me in the head. I mean it doesn't matter, but I have to live with knowing that my thesis is completely wrong. I hate eyetracking. Really, its not like I haven't been diligent or thorough. It's that there is too much that can bloody go wrong and there's so many things that have to analysed and recoded that you can't check everything ten times. Arg. In fact, I'd have never noticed this if not for the fact that we decided to do yet another analysis to try and help out the publication version. I realized that the counts didn't add up and lo and behold, some column references were off.....fuck. I hate eyetracking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both supervisors were totally unconcerned. Both laughed in fact. And SupervisorK, the intensely awesome human being he is, just said "great. These results are much better." and when I scowled and said I was sick of finding errors he said "ya, but that's what I like about you. You find them." Sigh. He really is the nicest human being ever. It made a big difference to my peace of mind knowing that they conisdiered this a minor issue...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, bit the crap out of my finger nails today. And lots is going on. But now I need to go to bed cuz I worked 13 hours straight today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115872399712478193?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115872399712478193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115872399712478193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115872399712478193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115872399712478193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/09/seriouslyyoure-killing-me.html' title='seriously...you&apos;re killing me.'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115812043497257854</id><published>2006-09-12T23:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T00:07:42.260-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Petty LoserVille</title><content type='html'>Wow. Talk about getting screwed. Timbuctoo just let me know today that apparently the girl from our ball team who is managing our dodgeball team doesn't like me....just extrapolating from the fact that our BALL team was putting in a dodgeball team and despite at least three emails from Timbuctoo indicating I was in, she has just told him "I don't think there's room for her". The rudeness is astounding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fine with people not liking me...when they have some reason its even better. But this is really too much. First of all, Timbuctoo was the one to suggest we recruit more people than JUST our ball team so we wouldn't be short players. AND she's been recruiting people furiously both on and off the team...and people are interested so she's started worrying there'd be too many....but of course there's not room for a team member, when there's 5 new people on the team. Ridiculous. And of course it took how long for her to come out and at least SAY she doesn't want me on the team...in a roundabout way at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, what a total high school joke. I mean if she didn't want me on the team she shoulda said something so that I could have played on another team. I had been invited to play on another team and turned it down cuz our BALL TEAM was putting in a team. Bitch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suspect the reason she doesn't like me is because I have disagreed with her on some things....things of absolutely no consequence like whether another team was a bunch of assholes (beating us does not make them assholes) or about whether everyone should   play catcher or just the girls rotate through (or something like that)....I mean really, is that the kinda thing that leads you to dislike someone? If your an adult? Sad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm disappointed for two reasons. 1. Since I have no indoor soccer anymore, this was the only sport I had going. 2. It was an opportunity for Timbuctoo and I to hang out, which may not happen any more. 3. I like playing with the people on our team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a little bitter at her too because if Timbuctoo doesn't play (on principle) then he also has no activity. And he really needs that. So I can go play with another team (MAYBE, if they aren't all full), but then I have to play against people who I should be playing with. Clearly they don't have a problem with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Timbuctoo is pissed. And maybe, just maybe this will work out, but i doubt it. He was gonna send an email reminding her that this was a dodgeball team from our ball team, and that perhaps if we have too many players we should be dropping new players. But really, who wants to play with someone like that anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the league emailed him today to see if he wanted to put in a team. He didn't respond by the deadline of course cuz he hadn't gotten the email from the wretched girl but he sent one later asking if he could let them know tommorrow. So maybe, maybe, if NiceGuy feels like managing a team, Timbuctoo, Me, Junior, and NiceGuy, and DirtyJ I expcect will jump the good ship PettyLoserVille and have our own team. But I'm not holding my breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, not impressed. Why are adults so rarely adults? I am sorry to hear that she feels this way, but I'm glad to know. Either way I will never play a sport with her again. High school, all over again. Pathetic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115812043497257854?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115812043497257854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115812043497257854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115812043497257854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115812043497257854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/09/petty-loserville.html' title='Petty LoserVille'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115751517493133154</id><published>2006-09-05T23:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T23:59:34.933-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Go Mom! Go K!</title><content type='html'>So Monday I helped mom type up a resume and today she got a job. I'm bursting with pride....I couldn't be prouder...i don't even know what to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I called my dad today to wish him happy birthday and we had a nice conversation. He sounded so happy and proud. I felt so good about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last but not least, K1 graduated top of her class....it is so exciting to feel pride in someone else. I'm bursting. She deserves it and I wish I could say HA! to all those people who got in the year she didn't. She's great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many happy feelings right now...I hope the world doesn't come crashing down suddenly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115751517493133154?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115751517493133154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115751517493133154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115751517493133154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115751517493133154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/09/go-mom-go-k.html' title='Go Mom! Go K!'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115751490535854591</id><published>2006-09-05T23:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T23:55:05.386-04:00</updated><title type='text'>lump in throat</title><content type='html'>I was surprised to learn this weekend that despite the time and distraction, i still feel something for a bf of long ago, I think I called him Jeremy or Jonathan or something in the past...let's go with Curly. Curly burned me, and it was my own fault. In retrospect, it would never have worked, we wanted different mates than each other, we just didn't know it at the time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And at the time, I reacted like a big loser....since then joining the world of adults and learning to face the truth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I happened to be on a list of people he replied an email to....one of those forwards where you answer questions about yourself....where I learned he was engaged ....and apparently to a tall beautiful blond doctor....ouch...it stung, but given the insight of maturity, I was ok...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But KandK mentioned that she had up and left for no reason recently...and he was a mess...but is doing better now having met another doctor in hickville, CA. And yet, it still shook me. Less...but it still left me pensive. K1 says he's in love with being in love...and I wondered if I suffered the same afflicition.....I don't know how i'd feel if I saw him....but in truth I hope when I do that it is with a Timbuctoo who is publicly mine...sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115751490535854591?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115751490535854591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115751490535854591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115751490535854591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115751490535854591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/09/lump-in-throat.html' title='lump in throat'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115751445337813808</id><published>2006-09-05T23:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T23:47:33.380-04:00</updated><title type='text'>respite II</title><content type='html'>Well, ok I got off on a bit of a tangent their...but back to things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I defended my thesis on Friday and what's more....I took the whole weekend off! It was wonderful. For the first time in I don't know how long I didn't feel like I should be doing something else. It could be that i haven't felt this way for three or more years. God it was great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming up to my thesis I was very stressed as I did not feel ready at all. In the end, there were a few things I wish I had done and a few I'm sure I didn't need to do, but i'm glad I did anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt stupid and like it didn't go well, but I'm sure that's not the case. I KNOW that I could have answered Supervisor1's questions better if I'd gotten through my prep schedule....but what can you do....know it better next time. Sigh. He already thinks I'm a bit of an idiot...what can I do other than write like a genius.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115751445337813808?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115751445337813808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115751445337813808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115751445337813808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115751445337813808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/09/respite-ii.html' title='respite II'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115751424007912748</id><published>2006-09-05T23:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T23:44:00.106-04:00</updated><title type='text'>respite</title><content type='html'>three times in the last week I've wished I had time to blog. and now here it is. I've finally got time and i can't remember why i wanted to blog those ill-faited times. Sigh. It's a sign of the times. My life is moving so quickly. Suddenly i FEEL old. I don't want to go clubbing. I want to sit around and chat or play board games and drink....so much of my perspective has changed this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it is partially because of Timbuctoo....being in a, albeit non-, relationship that is mature, has changed my perspective on life. And visiting KandK this weekend drove the point home. They've been together five years now and I'm astounded by how in love and not in love they are at the same time. She chats with me about her fears that they don't have what it takes to last, yet its seems obvious to me that they do...and I reflected that clearly Timbuctoo is right....it IS a fight, a struggle to stay together when the passion is gone...a fight to find reasons to be together, other than just routine. But then why bother? Here it is: when people had kids early, that kept them together. Now, waiting for careers or not having kids at all has led hapless couples to doom. But is that really so bad? Is it so terrible that we don't stay together forever? That we join for a period and that when the passion and the convenience are gone we move on? Its seems wrong. Its seems depressing and horrible. But is it truly? The logical end to such a world view is that the only true couples are parents...why does it all sound so sci-fi?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115751424007912748?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115751424007912748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115751424007912748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115751424007912748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115751424007912748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/09/respite.html' title='respite'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115588495330806428</id><published>2006-08-18T03:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T03:10:38.050-04:00</updated><title type='text'>SUBMITS</title><content type='html'>Oh ya! I finally, finally, finally submitted my thesis and sent a final draft of the publication to Supervisor1. Hurray!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115588495330806428?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115588495330806428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115588495330806428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115588495330806428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115588495330806428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/08/submits.html' title='SUBMITS'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115588490373018843</id><published>2006-08-18T03:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T03:08:23.756-04:00</updated><title type='text'>rookie</title><content type='html'>well, that's it for my rookie year in soccer. It was definitely awesome and fun. We lost our quarter final match, 1-0 in overtime. It was almost a perfect shot against me. ..over my head, apparently just under the cross bar....but I wanna check with SuperCoach first whether I was capable of saving it if I'd have been on my line....especially since the ref commented on moving back before the game....ah well. My teammates hopefully weren't exaggerating when they said I played awesome, and this was my best game of the season. Sigh. But I wish we had won.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115588490373018843?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115588490373018843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115588490373018843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115588490373018843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115588490373018843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/08/rookie.html' title='rookie'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115463068910856644</id><published>2006-08-03T14:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T14:44:49.110-04:00</updated><title type='text'>can't feel you there</title><content type='html'>Happy anniversary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115463068910856644?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115463068910856644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115463068910856644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115463068910856644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115463068910856644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/08/cant-feel-you-there_03.html' title='can&apos;t feel you there'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115463062952962857</id><published>2006-08-03T14:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T14:43:49.623-04:00</updated><title type='text'>can't feel you there</title><content type='html'>This paper is killing me. With every day I spend relentlessly fighting to make something of nothing, I know I am wasting my life in frustration and bitterness. I sit with draft fifty-something on my lap, my red marker finding new ways to make sense of things. And yet I just cannot seem to do things the way they want them....though clearly they both want different things. Why is it never good enough? Why is their feedback so unhelpful? I work and work and work. And the things I'm unhappy with they say are fine (only to say otherwise three drafts later) and the things I'm happy about they revise again. Back and forth between thesis and publication. THREE MONTHS I have been writing. THREE. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started working so hard because I felt this was my only chance to get funding next year but as each month slipped away I knew that was a pipe dream. Every day I ask myself why I am even bothering. It seems so unfair. MissMovies spent a quarter (if that!) as long on her project, wrote it up in two weeks and sent it off to our top journal. And since her results are significant, she's sure to be published, while I sit here, toiling, toiling, fighting, sacrificing, for a paper that has a miniscule chance of getting published to a journal I've never even heard of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help but think again and again in a day that I hate my life. And yet I have no answer. Slack off, give up? That won't help me, even if at least I will be without because I didn't try, not because I get fucked at every turn. I hate my life. How pathetic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115463062952962857?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115463062952962857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115463062952962857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115463062952962857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115463062952962857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/08/cant-feel-you-there.html' title='can&apos;t feel you there'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115453509358212647</id><published>2006-08-02T12:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T12:11:33.630-04:00</updated><title type='text'>you can't break me</title><content type='html'>Well, there sure is a lot to rage about. I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like to be in Lebanon right now. It kills me how I go about my day thinking so outsiderishly about this travesty. There's a lot of people doing the wrong thing, and the people that pay for it are completely innocent. All they want is to be left alone to work and play. How sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115453509358212647?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115453509358212647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115453509358212647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115453509358212647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115453509358212647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/08/you-cant-break-me.html' title='you can&apos;t break me'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115386405986435782</id><published>2006-07-25T17:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T17:47:39.936-04:00</updated><title type='text'>don't bother</title><content type='html'>You know what really gets me? Telemarketers. Yes I know in Canada we're not plagued nearly as much as Americans, but that's not what my beef is. What truly bugs me is when some company that has my business calls me during "dinner time" and starts telling me in a monotone voice about their great new offer. First of all, if you want to sell something, how about sounding like you're excited about it, rather than sounding like you're reading a sheet of paper to a turtle. Second, don't ask me questions designed to trap me into your product. It's rude. I know it's a classic sales technique, but it still makes me angry. Why can't people sell products they believe in? Why can't businesses care about the people they're selling too? Stupid bottom line.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115386405986435782?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115386405986435782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115386405986435782' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115386405986435782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115386405986435782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/07/dont-bother.html' title='don&apos;t bother'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115345529782700914</id><published>2006-07-21T00:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T00:14:57.913-04:00</updated><title type='text'>way leads on to way</title><content type='html'>so much is going on. And so little. I am very tired after a very fun but very losing soccer match in which I saved a penalty shot! Of course I took the penalty, but meh, semantics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paper still isn't done and I've lost hope for the most part that it will be published before my grant application, but what can you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought running shoes today as part of my get-cardio plan....Timbuctoo insists this will make me feel better....he's probably right...all I ever want to do is sleep...so lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel fat...and apparently my BMI is now over 25....though I know its cuz I have some ridiculous muscle mass, I'm still gonna take it as a cue to drop a few pounds...I've always hovered around 24 but never over before....time to do something...I'd feel better anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh ya, duh! And the war in Lebanon. Dear God! Please make it stop. Please watch over all those I love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115345529782700914?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115345529782700914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115345529782700914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115345529782700914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115345529782700914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/07/way-leads-on-to-way_21.html' title='way leads on to way'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115179340495532147</id><published>2006-07-01T18:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T18:40:23.136-04:00</updated><title type='text'>way leads on to way</title><content type='html'>Reflecting on my life today. July 1st. Canada's birthday. And I sit on my couch struggling to succeed. While my friends party, the love of my life drinks with his family, and my family wishes they were having fun. Who am I and where am I going?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robert Frost (1874–1963).  Mountain Interval.  1920. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;1. The Road Not Taken &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,  &lt;br /&gt;And sorry I could not travel both  &lt;br /&gt;And be one traveler, long I stood  &lt;br /&gt;And looked down one as far as I could  &lt;br /&gt;To where it bent in the undergrowth;         5 &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Then took the other, as just as fair,  &lt;br /&gt;And having perhaps the better claim,  &lt;br /&gt;Because it was grassy and wanted wear;  &lt;br /&gt;Though as for that the passing there  &lt;br /&gt;Had worn them really about the same,         10 &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;And both that morning equally lay  &lt;br /&gt;In leaves no step had trodden black.  &lt;br /&gt;Oh, I kept the first for another day!  &lt;br /&gt;Yet knowing how way leads on to way,  &lt;br /&gt;I doubted if I should ever come back.         15 &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;I shall be telling this with a sigh  &lt;br /&gt;Somewhere ages and ages hence:  &lt;br /&gt;Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—  &lt;br /&gt;I took the one less traveled by,  &lt;br /&gt;And that has made all the difference.         20&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115179340495532147?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115179340495532147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115179340495532147' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115179340495532147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115179340495532147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/07/way-leads-on-to-way.html' title='way leads on to way'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115154242182012770</id><published>2006-06-28T20:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T20:53:41.853-04:00</updated><title type='text'>some girls do</title><content type='html'>It's always amazing just how stubborn I am. Listening, watching myself as my mom trys to be helpful. I know she can't be helpful, but that doesn't mean I need to be rude or negative. I worked hard today to be patient on the phone. Sigh. Why is life so hard?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a terrible day. I still haven't got my paper back from my supervisor. AND I found out that the seven hours of work I put in between last night and this morning was a total waste of time because there's still a problem with my files. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then Supervisor2 who is always trying to be nice forced me to sit in his office while he told me not to worry and to relax. So of course I started crying. I hate that. I really didn't want to but there is something about people showing genuine concern that turns me into a bloody faucet. I hate it so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this day has been frustrating, disheartening, and all things bad. I'm tired, I'm menstrual, I'm depressed, I'm anxious, I'm sick of this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115154242182012770?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115154242182012770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115154242182012770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115154242182012770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115154242182012770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/06/some-girls-do.html' title='some girls do'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115144577636929689</id><published>2006-06-27T17:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T18:02:56.410-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the end is near,...i hope</title><content type='html'>Well, the paper will be done soon. By hook or crook. I'm tired. I'm unmotivated. I'm stressed to the max. Too much sports, too much partying, too many things to worry about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My birthday was great but I didn't have time to talk about it. I wish I had. Kudos to my friends for making it one to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been a really tough month. I'm trying to stay on top of the paper....get it done for the end of the month but it is just so hard slogging through. I'm fighing. I won't get to go visit k and k for the long weekend which sucks but I think it will be good having everyone gone through it. I won't be distracted so I can put some polish on the paper and do all the little things that I have been putting off cuz I don't want to do them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. Timbuctoo is killing me. His gf is away and so I am spending the evenings with him which is nice but yesterday he said somethign along the lines of "I wish you could come to my staff bbq and I wish you could come to my cousin's keg party, you'd have so much fun!". And I just kept thinking that its his fault. And I sincerely hope he realizes it. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, on the positive side, I got a fantastic pair of shoes to wear out on my birthday.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/500/674/1600/JamalsShoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/500/674/320/JamalsShoes.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, Smiley got me a plastic flamingo for my birthday. Hurray! Best beer bong ever! We christened her Estelle at a bbq this weekend. What fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115144577636929689?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115144577636929689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115144577636929689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115144577636929689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115144577636929689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/06/end-is-neari-hope.html' title='the end is near,...i hope'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-115007411811239644</id><published>2006-06-11T20:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-11T21:01:58.136-04:00</updated><title type='text'>you're beautiful</title><content type='html'>i have to say that my life feels only mildly out of control right now. Unfortunately, i feel a mite too lazy to do anything so that control is being ignored somewhat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is in flux. Here's a list of things I'm feeling right now. It's a wonder my head doesn't explode:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Frustration with not being able to talk to Timbuctoo about kids&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Frustration with Timbuctoo because I can't see him more often because this is all a big dumb secret&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stressed about getting this paper written and published&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stressed about organizing my data properly and usefully&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stressed about sounding dumb to my supervisors&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Annoyed that I am spending so much money on beer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Weary of working so much&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bored of organizing data&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Annoyed that I am not working on the database calendar thingy I should have finished in April&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ashamed that I haven't been doing my workouts&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sore from finally working out last week&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Worried about my blood sugars&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Scared that Timbuctoo will choose to stay with his gf because I have to finish my PhD when I don't know if I do&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Frustrated that I don't know if I want to do my PhD&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Excited about softball with the fun team in the other town&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Scared about soccer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Excited about soccer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Anxious about hockey&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;sigh. I wish things would even out. I just want to have Timbcutoo's undivided attention for a few hours so I can tell him how I feel about kids and school. I just want to know he knows how I feel about it and then I don't have to feel worried. I want him to make a decision but I am terrified to cut things off between us in the meantime because I feel like that would just give him an excuse to not make a decision.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-115007411811239644?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/115007411811239644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=115007411811239644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115007411811239644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/115007411811239644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/06/youre-beautiful.html' title='you&apos;re beautiful'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114963033968944377</id><published>2006-06-06T17:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T17:48:33.426-04:00</updated><title type='text'>you're the other side of the  world to me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/500/674/1600/IMG_1270.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/500/674/320/IMG_1270.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the world rolls along filled with bitter and unfulfilled me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a fit of spontaneity and irresponsibility I bought new nail polish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soccer is life. Hockey is depressing....rollie gone for the series?! Oh dear!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114963033968944377?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114963033968944377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114963033968944377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114963033968944377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114963033968944377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/06/youre-other-side-of-world-to-me.html' title='you&apos;re the other side of the  world to me'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114851851986319466</id><published>2006-05-24T20:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T20:55:19.866-04:00</updated><title type='text'>and I'm a bad boy for breaking her heart....</title><content type='html'>I guess Timbuctoo was mad at me yesterday. Can't say I blame him, I did say he was a lousy manager. I didn't mean it...I was annoyed by the fact that he and his pal seemed to think that a competitive ball team could be managed with the players just playing where they wanted. Which is crap. But then, I was talking about a competitive team in a competitive league whereas it appears we are a competitive team in a semi-competitive league.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was frustrated with him too. I emailed him this morning to sorta talk it out but there are some things I'd rather say in person. So it makes me so much the more frustrated that I am in this relationship but I can't even properly communicate my so-called partner. Clearly that's an exaggerration since it's not technically a relationship....has few of the benefits other than the messing around....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. Now I just sound bitter. But the truth is that I am starting to get frustrated. I think part of it is that I feel kinda used because the thing that seems to keep him at my house is fooling around. I realize that's only partially true...I mean it distracts him from thinking about the fact that he shouldn't be there but it still kinda hurts. And as a result, I've really lost interest in fooling around with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about what he said about the chemistry of love, how the good feeling that goes with love is from a chemical that bonds couples but dissapates after a year and a half or two years. Which kinda makes me wonder if he's just waiting around to see what happens after a year and a half....which seems ridiculously unfair to me....I know he wants to make the right decision and intellectually that's a good way to check but it's sure unfair to me.  But its just a theory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the one hand I feel bad for pushing him to decide but on the other I feel frustrated and alone. And I just don't know what to do. Even if he does decide...to stay with his gf...what then? Do I keep playing ball with him twice a week? Everything is just so ruddy complicated. I want to break things off....just say I can't do it anymore, I just feel too much like a second fiddle....but I just don't know what would make me happy if I did that. I'd be even more miserable because it would be over and then I would also have to deal with an even lower level of positive things in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This just sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114851851986319466?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114851851986319466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114851851986319466' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114851851986319466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114851851986319466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/05/and-im-bad-boy-for-breaking-her-heart.html' title='and I&apos;m a bad boy for breaking her heart....'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114851792299680167</id><published>2006-05-24T20:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T20:45:23.023-04:00</updated><title type='text'>here and now</title><content type='html'>I feel like I'm dog paddling....not well, but my head is above water. My life seems desperately out of my control but every day at least one thing reminds me that I like living. I feel weird...am I depressed? Or just going through a rough patch of life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to my mom today and she broke down talking about how it was her anniversary and her husband was out mowing the lawn. I feel terrible. I did not even remember that it was their anniversary. I love my mom so much I just want to cry. She is frustrated in many the same ways I am: dissatisfied but too scared to move on, trapped in her situation by money and confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think about how I can't relate to people who don't go to school. They're happy, they make money....but I can't fathom it. I can't fathom the world as a place with opportunities sometimes....where you don't have to be the most qualified or have the most money to get what you want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114851792299680167?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114851792299680167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114851792299680167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114851792299680167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114851792299680167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/05/here-and-now.html' title='here and now'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114825380059240288</id><published>2006-05-21T19:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T19:23:20.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'>how the world really works</title><content type='html'>The longer this SNAFU with Timbuctoo goes on, and the more disillusioned I become with the status of my life, the more I am feeling like the world really is better in the movies. Clearly the movies portray a shallow view of life...ignoring the complexities....but it seems to me as though the complexities of the real world are at the cost of something. I'm not sure what. I won't say real happiness because real happiness is clearly attainable but it seems like in real life there is a whole lot less of something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. I guess lately I have been feeling completely unfulfilled. I'm not enjoying school becuase I feel angry about my funding and my lack of publications. My love life is completely unethical and only partially satisfying because it's only partially real. I continue to do a crappy job of managing my debt and my diabetes seems to be having some issues. I know I'm being overly dramatic but every day I just feel frustrated and angry. Bitter that I am so poor and that things are just not going my way. And so every little thing seems magnified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I need to vent but I don't know what about. I want to talk to Timbuctoo but there either isn't time or I don't do it. I want to finish my thesis but I feel like I'm dragging my heels. I have other tasks and I they are on hold. I am just not enjoying my life and I hate it. I feel like I need to change something but I don't know what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I quit grad school? Should I quit interacting with Timbuctoo?  What? I feel so desperate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114825380059240288?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114825380059240288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114825380059240288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114825380059240288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114825380059240288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/05/how-world-really-works.html' title='how the world really works'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114817037820494477</id><published>2006-05-20T20:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T20:12:58.256-04:00</updated><title type='text'>i just don't know</title><content type='html'>So this whole Timbuctoo thing has to come to a head at some point. I just don't know what to do or think anymore. Last night he came over after the bar. We were out watching the hockey game at the pub but with different groups and then later went dancing with my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like something is getting routine....the getting together and being happy to be together, then messing around, and then us discussing our feelings. In the sense that he asked if I knew how he feels about me or if I believe him and I say I get it but I can't really believe it while he's still with his gf. I remember him saying he's "deciding" but I don't know how to feel about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like he leaves our encounters with a bad feeling, though we discussed it before and he said he doesn't. But still, at least this time, I feel worried....like my always being upset about this will make him want to be with me less. But it's absurd, because I have every right to be. Though I should be just cutting him off, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I guess part of the issue is that he's going away for a few days....probably camping with his gf. I'm sure it is something like that cuz he didn't say what he was doing. Which also makes me scared because last night was so...I dunno, worrisome...and I guess I just feel like the jury is out. So I can't talk with him about last night, and he may come back with a decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am i doing the right thing? I don't know anymore. I'm terrified. We've discussed lately what happens with "love" chemically and I now have some insight into why he is so on the fence, but that just makes me feel less attractive an option. Bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could talk to him. I wish that we hadn't messed around last night at all. I wish that when we weren't messing around that he hadn't kept saying "I have to go".....I do believe he loves me but I don't believe that he is in love with me enough to be with me. And not only is that sad, but makes me feel like what I've been looking for in a mate is immature and futile. Bah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114817037820494477?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114817037820494477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114817037820494477' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114817037820494477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114817037820494477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-just-dont-know.html' title='i just don&apos;t know'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114801126050328703</id><published>2006-05-18T23:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T00:01:00.503-04:00</updated><title type='text'>soccer</title><content type='html'>I love soccer. I'm learning. It's a challenge. I am massively out of shape compared to everyone and the conditioning is killing me, but I absolutely love it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114801126050328703?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114801126050328703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114801126050328703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114801126050328703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114801126050328703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/05/soccer.html' title='soccer'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114801115018811235</id><published>2006-05-18T23:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T23:59:10.216-04:00</updated><title type='text'>seizure</title><content type='html'>What the hell?????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was in Starbucks today and admittedly I may have waited a little long to eat breakfast, and I had been drinking the night before which drives down my sugars, and maybe I ordered something that would take a long time to get into my system....but seriously what HAPPENED?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I remember eating my bagel and feeling foggy and then I started sort of jerking my head....like other times when my legs do this...but it was my whole upper body. And then I remember someone asking me if I was okay....and I have no idea what I said. And the next thing I remember I was sitting and eating my bagel again....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ASSUME that it just took time for the sugar to get in and I slowly came back as that happened but it was scary after the fact. Very scary. I don't remember.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then today at soccer practice....in the last ten minutes, we were working on "the wall" and I started not being able to see properly...I couldn't focus and then I started seeing double eventually....again...scary. I just don't know what the heck is going on. Clearly I need to see a doctor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114801115018811235?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114801115018811235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114801115018811235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114801115018811235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114801115018811235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/05/seizure.html' title='seizure'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114730063183961712</id><published>2006-05-10T18:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T18:37:11.863-04:00</updated><title type='text'>there is no message</title><content type='html'>Well, I yammered on about feeling bad and how supervisor1 made me feel lame today but then blogger decided to time out and throw away my whole blog and I don't feel like reliving it. It's just the way it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114730063183961712?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114730063183961712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114730063183961712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114730063183961712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114730063183961712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/05/there-is-no-message.html' title='there is no message'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114704123582075028</id><published>2006-05-07T18:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T18:33:55.823-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a good word with Junior</title><content type='html'>I also forgot to mention that Junior and I went out Friday for complementary oysters at the pub and had a fantastic time. I didn't feel like he was hitting on me. I felt we were friends. When a couple that is friends of our came to have dinner with us I didn't feel pressured to be his gf (like with Spun) and that was great. He's coming over to watch the hockey game and have Chinese food tonight and I'm looking forward to it. I hope things continue this way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114704123582075028?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114704123582075028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114704123582075028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114704123582075028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114704123582075028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/05/good-word-with-junior.html' title='a good word with Junior'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114704105461508765</id><published>2006-05-07T18:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T18:31:54.936-04:00</updated><title type='text'>more than words</title><content type='html'>So I don't really feel confused so much anymore. I've moved on to feeling exasperated. Timbuctoo and I talked a while ago and discussed how we just need to accept that we do hook up. It was sort of a frustrating thing to accept but it was true. And it was the right thing to do. While it has made us behave much more guiltily, it has been good for our relationship. It's allowed us to become more honest with each other and to spend our time together not just screwing around. It's weird. We may as well BE bf/gf because when we're together that's how we act.  When we're with our ball team, when we're with my friends...really, it feels that way...without the words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And speaking of words, last night me and Junior and the hostess came back to my place to drink rather than staying out at the pub. Timbuctoo mentioned he might be going out and I told him we had plans. A while after we got to my place he called from the pub to see where we were at. I invited him and his pal over but he showed up alone quite a bit later in the night. Anyway, to the point. Eventually I crawled into bed cuz I was sleepy and everyone sorta joined me. Not in the dirty way folks, in the fun pals kinda way. I was on top of my blankets and Timbuctoo unsurprisingly followed...then the hostess, then Junior...it was funny. Anyway, Timbuctoo at some point started whispering in my ear "I love you, I love you, I love you." He was completely hammered and may or may not remember, but it was certainly worth noting. He said it again just before he left at 5am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't say I loved him back. I do. But I thought it best if I follow best friend's lead and let him get comfortable saying it drunk and when he gets around to saying it sober, then capitulate.  Assuming this whole mess continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today he told his gf he was going to ball practice but instead we both played hookie and watched a movie at my house. The cuddling was fantastic. I think we are both addicted to cuddling with each other. I can't even put into words how utterly fantastic it feels just to lay on top of him or to feel his arms around my shoulders. I feel so unbelievably happy when we're together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it also makes me feel good that I don't need to spend every second with him when my friends are around. I was happy to not feel neglected as he flirted with the hostess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to tell him that I am not going to screw around with him anymore until he breaks up with his gf. It seems like I could do it now becuase I crave his company and not the action. I guess this is what it feels like to NOT be sexually frustrated. How nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I keep thinking it but I haven't done it yet. But the truth is that he needs to break up with his gf. For her sake and ours. Sigh. This isn' t going to get easier. The truth is that I will believe he loves me then and not before. He may love me but right now he doesn't love me enough to do what it takes to be with me and that's important.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114704105461508765?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114704105461508765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114704105461508765' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114704105461508765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114704105461508765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/05/more-than-words.html' title='more than words'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114685503092851309</id><published>2006-05-05T14:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T14:50:31.186-04:00</updated><title type='text'>back in black</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm finished grading, thankfully. I can get back to writing my thesis and pushing for publications. I'm feeling a little excited about writing actually. Maybe because I can sit and think about something I'm interested in and that will be fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is confusing and frustrating and lately I want no part of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking about being an expert today. The thing about expertise is that it's not related to talent its related to practice and motivation. Ten years it takes...hard effort. And I was thinking about the cliche, "Jack of all trades, Master of none" and thinking that is how I feel. I hae lots of interests. Lots of people think I'm talented but I never feel it. Part of the problem is that my expectations are so extraordinarily high....part is that I'm sure I'm trying to fill the whole of not having a functional family unit. But regardless of the reason, it made me think about how much it sucks for poor people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, to become an Olympic athlete requires being an expert in your area. And being an expert in a sport certainly requires equipment and club fees. And that just sucks. Because that means that if you're not upper middle class you don't have a shot. Now on the one hand, whatever, because there's no such thing as talent (apparently) but on the other, I feel like its unfair that poor people don't get to be Olympians, by and large. But then, the whole of being poor isn't fair so I guess this ought to be the least of one's worries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still hating the world, still feeling sorry for myself. Glad to have time and energy to blog again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114685503092851309?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114685503092851309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114685503092851309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114685503092851309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114685503092851309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/05/back-in-black.html' title='back in black'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114610898023330712</id><published>2006-04-26T23:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T23:36:20.260-04:00</updated><title type='text'>day by day</title><content type='html'>Today wasn't a great day. In fact it started pretty bad as I didn't drag myself out of bed until 11:30am. Disgraceful. But it ended nicely....me and BlondNS rented a movie and watched the Habs game. Good times...except the Habs lost. Boo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Supervisor2 and I chatted today. He is such a fantastic human being. Really, I can't say it enough. We were talking and he's still trying to cheer me up about this stupid SSHRC business. Which is sweet and much appreciated. And he asked me how money was and I sort of shyly told him. He's really good about probing just enough to make me feel comfortable telling him...like he wants to know and I'm not just complaining. Anyway, I desperately feel guilty about him giving me money, even if I do need it ....cuz of course I could spend less on a lot of things....but he asked how much money I'd have for the summer, and said "that's not enough. I'll see what I can do." It's not even that he will help me out...it's that he takes the time to care about whether I need to be helped out. I guess that its been a long time since I had a mentor....and I just feel like I'm going to burst with appreciation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand last night was quite the night. Timbuctoo invited me and my posse to watch hockey with him and his posse at the pub. And we had a rocking good time....and yes, Timbuctoo and I did go home together...sigh. But I'm finding it hard to feel bad right now. I mean we've talked extensively about this and he says things like "I hate that I have to leave you" and "I know we shouldn't but we obviously have to accept that we do"....none of those things make any of this ok, but the truth is I feel loved. And that is a nice feeling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114610898023330712?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114610898023330712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114610898023330712' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114610898023330712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114610898023330712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-by-day.html' title='day by day'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114593580873663565</id><published>2006-04-24T23:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T23:30:08.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>too much</title><content type='html'>there is too much stress right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114593580873663565?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114593580873663565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114593580873663565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114593580873663565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114593580873663565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/too-much.html' title='too much'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114549837510542572</id><published>2006-04-19T21:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T21:59:35.133-04:00</updated><title type='text'>word of the day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/archive/2006/04/19.html"&gt;implacable&lt;/a&gt;: incapable of being pacified.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114549837510542572?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114549837510542572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114549837510542572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114549837510542572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114549837510542572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/word-of-day.html' title='word of the day'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114541405626192452</id><published>2006-04-18T22:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T22:35:59.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>i had a feeling</title><content type='html'>You know, I'm a big girl. And I can take disappointment. But I really don't think its necessary to seek me out and force it on me. As it was today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So  we're way overdue hearing about funding....we should have heard weeks ago. And I know some people had gotten rejection letters....but still....when I heard that the department had gotten the list, I knew that I would have my letter in two days and woudl rather not hear it from someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, our kindly graduate secretary called me into the office today and didn't even tell me but more like thought i knew already or something. I don't even reall remember the conversation but she called to me from the hallway and obviously wasn't hearing me when I said "I don't want to know" becasue she proceeded to try to comfort me or something of the sort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which I could only dumbly say "so I didn't get it then"...I know she was trying to be kind but I've been telling people left right and center that I'd rather wait and get my letter than hear about it and she totally deprived me of being able to feel sad by myself. I can't help but resent her for not respecting my wishes even if she didn't know them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean I can understand giving good news early but is there really any reason to call someone in to give them bad news? Thanks. Thanks for ruining my concentration for the day. I would have had one, maybe two more days before I had to feel bad. And I coulda got a lot of work done. Now....now I have no motivation. I feel nothing but frustration and sadness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really hard to even accept that it's true. I mean I poured my heart and soul into writing a good proposal and I don't give a rat's ass whether people say it's a "crapshoot" or not. If the work and record are good enough then you get an award. And that's how I feel. Like I didn't work hard enough. Or rather, well enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second only to the ripping heartache of knowing that I'll be even poorer next year than this year is the fact that I'll have to go through the excruciating process of writing another proposal. Nothing sucks the life out of you like that. And to make matters all the worse, I haven't done ANYTHING of note this year so I feel like the likelihood of getting an award is less good than it was this year. Great. I feel great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And considering how much work I put in. How LITTLE time I spend doing anything fun, I feel totally robbed. I worked so hard this year and next year is going to be worse. I feel like I deserved to get a grant....like I worked so hard this year and that next year would be easier because i'd finally have time to research without all the other pressures of doing a full taship and working in the summer and writing grant proposals.....that's the worst of it. I will be more broke and busier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And almost as bad is the fact that i'm complaining. How many people don't have grants? How many people don't have supervisors who just give them money? I feel like I should shut up. I mean I just don't get it. And I certianly do understand the fact that when you ahve to work because you don't have funding you have less time for research so you're less likely to be productive so you're less likely to get funding. that fact slaps me mighty hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate everything right now. I feel ashamed to even email my supervisors that I didn't get it. I know they wanted to hear when I heard but I just can't bring myself to do it. I hate this. I hate everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention having to tell people. And having to look at them feel bad for me. Or to feel smug. Everybody kept telling me to chillout cuz I would get one, and now I have to tell them they're wrong. God I can't stand it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114541405626192452?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114541405626192452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114541405626192452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114541405626192452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114541405626192452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-had-feeling.html' title='i had a feeling'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114480878157064820</id><published>2006-04-11T22:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T22:26:21.623-04:00</updated><title type='text'>dear blog....</title><content type='html'>save me from myself. My motivation is lying somewhere underneath his clothes, my self respect hasn't been seen since I sat on that wooden step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day the people I care something about wake up and walk around thier world and I  float in and out of it....I watch myself watching them. And the rock in my belly just gets heavier. I don't care so much that I can't tell them. I just hate that he isn't with me enjoying them too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I spend minute after minute thinking about how I should be working and what I should be doing and still I watch my msn and my emal knowing I am getting nowhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much to distract me. So little to live for. So much to live for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114480878157064820?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114480878157064820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114480878157064820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114480878157064820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114480878157064820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/dear-blog.html' title='dear blog....'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114471755396916624</id><published>2006-04-10T20:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T21:05:54.046-04:00</updated><title type='text'>torn</title><content type='html'>Well, falling off the wagon is just a habit now. So sad. But so happy to see certain boys. I had a fantastic Saturday, I really did. I had a great time with my friends and finished it by taking home you know who. Sigh. Is "love of my life" the wrong thing to say? Even if it's true? Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wondered why he didn't come to ball practice Sunday but I finally managed to email him how I felt about the fact that Saturday night he asked me if I loved him (and I just couldn't bring myself to say yes....too scared). I mean I told him what I was scared about, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He emailed me back to say that he wants us to spend two weeks out of contact...so he can get his head straight because he feels like he's listening too much to his emotions. It terrifies me. I mean, I don't want him to keep doing this awful thing, but I also feel like if he comes to a decision without listening to his emotions then I haven't got a shot in hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little &lt;a href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/n/natalie-imbruglia/98240.html" target="_new"&gt;Natalie Imbruglia&lt;/a&gt; to put my pain into words....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I thought I saw a man brought to life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;He was warm, he came around like he was  dignified&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;He showed me what it was to cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Well you couldn’t be that man I  adored&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;You don’t seem to know, don’t seem to care what your heart is  for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;But I don’t know him anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;There’s nothing where he used to  lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;My conversation has run dry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;That’s what’s going on, nothing’s fine I’m  torn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m all out of faith, this is how I feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m cold and I am shamed  lying naked on the floor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Illusion never changed into something real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m  wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;You’re a little late, I’m  already torn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;So I guess the fortune teller’s right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Should have seen  just what was there and not some holy light&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;To crawl beneath my veins and  now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I don’t care, I have no luck, I don’t miss it all that much&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;There’s  just so many things that I can’t touch, I’m torn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m all out of faith,  this is how I feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m cold and I am shamed lying naked on the  floor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Illusion never changed into something real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m wide awake and I can  see the perfect sky is torn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;You’re a little late, I’m already torn.  torn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;There’s nothing where he used to lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;My inspiration has run  dry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;That’s what’s going on, nothings right, I’m torn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m all out of  faith, this is how I feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m cold and I am shamed lying naked on the  floor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Illusion never changed into something real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m wide awake and I can  see the perfect sky is torn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m all out of faith, this is how I feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I’m  cold and I’m ashamed bound and broken on the floor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;You’re a little late, I’m  already torn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114471755396916624?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114471755396916624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114471755396916624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114471755396916624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114471755396916624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/torn.html' title='torn'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114438746137826551</id><published>2006-04-07T01:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-07T01:29:05.383-04:00</updated><title type='text'>mp3 woes</title><content type='html'>So a coupla days ago my beloved mp3 player went caput. Although in all honesty, I have to be thankful cuz it died a week before the one year warranty ended. Still...the search for a replacement has been painful. First, Future Shop no longer carries the &lt;a href="http://www.creative.com/products/product.asp?category=213&amp;subcategory=215&amp;amp;product=9771&amp;nav=2" target="_new"&gt;Muvo TX FM 512MB&lt;/a&gt; . Then, I can ship it back to Creative but it will cost me shipping AND a $25 diagnostic fee. $25 for them to stick it in a computer and say, "yup, defective"...purlease!....and Future Shop only carries ONE with the same features as my Muvo:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;recording mic&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;mp3 player&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;fm radio&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;usb key&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;The &lt;a href="http://www.futureshop.ca/catalog/proddetail.asp?logon=&amp;amp;langid=EN&amp;sku_id=0665000FS10066872&amp;amp;catid=10205" target="_new"&gt;Camnex &lt;span class="tx-heading3-dgrey"&gt;512MB MP3 Player &lt;/span&gt;(CM300)&lt;/a&gt;. It happens to be from a company in business roughly four months.....so I could go with a &lt;a href="http://www.futureshop.ca/catalog/proddetail.asp?logon=&amp;langid=EN&amp;amp;sku_id=0665000FS10067613&amp;catid=" target="_new"&gt;Sony&lt;/a&gt; which is reliable but lacks the recording mic or an &lt;a href="http://www.futureshop.ca/catalog/proddetail.asp?logon=&amp;amp;langid=EN&amp;sku_id=0665000FS10061330&amp;amp;catid=10205" target="_new"&gt;RCA &lt;/a&gt;which has a recording mic but no usb key (ABSOLUTELY NOT) .....or go with this unknown...sigh.....opinions welcome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, Q's opinion on the matter matched mine. And since he's a master of this stuff, I felt ok about ordering the Camnex...which I did....but that's really not the final word. I just hope that if it arrives and its awful that I can still exchange for the Sony instead... And I got to talk to Q today, which is always great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114438746137826551?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114438746137826551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114438746137826551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114438746137826551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114438746137826551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/mp3-woes.html' title='mp3 woes'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114428503429159072</id><published>2006-04-05T20:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-05T20:57:14.343-04:00</updated><title type='text'>there's something</title><content type='html'>There's something I've always known in the back of my mind. Something I know but fight hard not to do. And its something Timbuctoo is very good at. I have always been the kind of person to know right away that I want to be with someone. And I fail to allow myself to make my decision about someone after I get to know them. Rather I make that judgment right away and then if it was wrong I would convince myself otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Timbuctoo has said a number of times  that he wishes we could get to know each other. And I think sometimes I feel like we already know each other, but he doesn't think so, obviously.  And I know that he's probably right. But it scares me that he might be right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I do want to get to know him better. I don't currently feel like I'm in competition with his gf. I feel like I'm waiting for him to make a decision. That I'm letting myself enjoy being happy because it happens so rarely that I'll take it when I can, even if I am filled with self-loathing for it. I struggle with the question of whether it is worth it all the time. I just don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been fighting with myself over self-respect for years. And sometimes I feel this is not nearly as bad as many things I've done. And sometimes I believe it's worse. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After his visit Monday I emailed him to say, among other things, that I had enjoyed the night....and he emailed me back saying he had to and that "at least we get to know each other more by hanging out---that's probably a good  thing"...and I guess that just made me wonder whether despite his attraction to me, he regrets what has happened. That rather than being hesistant to break up with his gf because of his commitment to her, that he's hesistant to end things with me because he feels he owes me. I don't know. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114428503429159072?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114428503429159072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114428503429159072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114428503429159072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114428503429159072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/theres-something.html' title='there&apos;s something'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114420565790951567</id><published>2006-04-04T22:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T22:54:17.913-04:00</updated><title type='text'>what a great date</title><content type='html'>I'm sorry to say it, but it was. It was just what I was hoping/expecting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's horrible in some senses....both of us totally sober.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had planned that he would come over to help me put up my new chinup bar!!!! which I got cuz I (sniff) had to return my punching bag....and to give me my new excercise routine. And I said I'd buy takeout dinner...and his gf was out of town so he didn't need to explain his whereabouts. Sigh. I was so nice. We're such horrible human beings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He came over, hung the bar, we ordered dinner, watched a movie, snuggled on the couch, went to the bedroom.....worked out my new excercise routine later....it really was great. And I only semi-hate the comfortableness we have with each other. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I wish he coulda stayed the night. That was the only thing missing. But it was still great, and we're still horrible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114420565790951567?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114420565790951567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114420565790951567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114420565790951567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114420565790951567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/what-great-date.html' title='what a great date'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114420545210266658</id><published>2006-04-04T22:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T22:50:52.143-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The fight with Mr. California</title><content type='html'>I just want to say something about this briefly, to remind myself that I don't usually snap without reason, that I usually am much more patient than most people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday I worked on Mr. California's registration form as I said I would....dreading it all day....but did as much as I could and realized I needed some info from Mr. California before it could be posted....so I emailed him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And got a call from him Saturday during ball practice.....let's just jump to the ending. I hung up on him. Then he left a phone message...then I went home and emailed him all the files so he could do it himself...then had an msn fight. Then he left another phone messge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suffice to say that eventually he realized he was being an ass and tried to cover it. Idiot. The thing that pissed me off the most was when he six times said "you yelled at me like I was your boyfriend". Six times! I mean get over yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've bitched on this one enuf that I don't feel like rehashing it....and I'm totally sick today but just a personal reminder: don't just do things cuz you're nice. Don't put up with shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114420545210266658?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114420545210266658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114420545210266658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114420545210266658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114420545210266658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/fight-with-mr-california.html' title='The fight with Mr. California'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114403073264434502</id><published>2006-04-02T21:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T22:18:52.720-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the handle is slipping</title><content type='html'>This has been one hell of a week. Not only have I been getting up in the morning and feeling like I don't have anything to live for, but today nearly everything went wrong. Where to start....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess part of this weird feeling is this  Timbuctoo thing....and I think this feeling  started when  he made a comment about  Arnette as being "so middle class"....and I realized (maybe again) that one of the things that draws me to Timbuctoo is that he and I are from the same mold: poverty to middle class. ...that small group of people who not only went beyond what is expected from someone in our SES but are successful by upper middle class standards too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this self loathing and fight with myself about Timbuctoo is making this feeling of him being a kindred spirit a frustration. That feeling of what I want and need being just beyond my reach. Anyway, maybe its partly that I'm spending too much time watching Angel, but I am really starting to relate to the character....feeling apart from everyone, not really having a purpose....how depressing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, today was a really bad day for many reasons, but one reason is that I had a bad day and kept hoping to see Timbuctoo (he said he might be able to come by in that sort of "it'll be alright because I'll see him" kinda balancing way. Which I know is terrible because I can't become dependent on interacting with him (or anyone) for my "good feeling" about the world. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incidentally, one of the majorly bad/good things about this weekend was Friday night. I knew Timbuctoo woudl be at the pub and saw him briefly, but he left with the gf and I went to dinner with friends. But fate, I swear, keeps intervening. I jibed him before I left "going home so early" and he said "I might go to Pub M"....and my pals and I went to our Wednesday night haunt, about 13 of us as per plan but it was packed...so we brainstormed and ended up at Pub M which had a table all set for 13. It was creepy. Anyway, we sat down and I saw Timbuctoo's pal but no Timbuctoo...I said hi and hung with my pals. But then later went to hang with his pal again, let's call him Loosey...anyway, he had some cute friends with him so I dragged a single, flirty friend over and we drank with them. Eventually leaving for another pub with them. This friend of mine happened to be Junior's ex and also happened to start messing around with Loosey who is really the dirtiest guy ever....but she knew it and was fine with it so whatever...so we all head for this pub and sorta lose Loosey and the Golden Girl... so here I am with these two cop friends who are kinda amusing but also kinda jerks...and I'm starting to really worry about the Golden Girl when Timbuctoo appears out of the blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost literally jumped up and went to talk to him about the location of Loosey and Golden Girl and to express my shock at his presence...we headed to the bar for a drink and the next thing I know the two cops are leaving....they CLEARLY coudln't handle the competition. It was absurd.....especially since they hadn't even been hitting on me...well a little but the one got some other girls number and we were chatting about it so, really! Anyway, so suddenly it's just me and Timbuctoo. So we chat a little and FINALLY Loosey and Golden Girl show up. Ah relief! So sober Timbuctoo drives the two of them home and comes over for a while...and you know the rest of the story. It was so lovely to spend some time with him but so awful to be doing such an awful thing yet again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114403073264434502?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114403073264434502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114403073264434502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114403073264434502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114403073264434502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/04/handle-is-slipping.html' title='the handle is slipping'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114365776548024917</id><published>2006-03-29T13:38:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T13:42:45.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>dead raccoon</title><content type='html'>I don't think I talked about this, but like many things in this world, it struck me a little more than it might for most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went rollerblading with Junior on Sunday and when we returned, there were police cars all up my street....probably six or so....some at the little store and some near a house.  And of course people were gawking and slowing down even though there was nothing to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I being almost completely uninterested was instead drawn to a tragedy on my lawn. Right next to our tree lay an enourmous raccoon. Dead as dead can be but for all the world to see, sleeping....his little paws looked like they were clutching the ground as one would a pillow. His big belly all flat against the ground....no sign of injury, no blood. Just sad peace. I guess he fell? Or died of some disease? I don't know. But I watched him for some time. And thought about him much. Such a peaceful looking death.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114365776548024917?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114365776548024917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114365776548024917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114365776548024917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114365776548024917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/03/dead-raccoon_29.html' title='dead raccoon'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114356438022889641</id><published>2006-03-28T11:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T12:50:54.383-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a confluence of omens</title><content type='html'>I woke up this morning and thought: "I don't have anything to live for, that's why I feel so crappy right now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not usually such a pessimist but the problem right now is that nothing about my life seems fulfilling. It's just work and self-loathing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make matters worse, I couldn't find anything I wanted for breakfast in Starbucks so I walked into a smaller cafe and ran into Timbuctoo's gf who waived friendlyily and smiled her big friendly smile. I walked out of the shop a few minutes later, turned on my mp3 player to here "&lt;a href="http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/matchbox20/shame.html" target="_new"&gt;Shame&lt;/a&gt;" by Matchbox 20 playing. Suffice to say I felt awful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't feel like finishing anything. I feel yucky cuz I haven't been eating properly. I just don't care about the things I SHOULD be doing. What an awful feeling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114356438022889641?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114356438022889641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114356438022889641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114356438022889641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114356438022889641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/03/confluence-of-omens.html' title='a confluence of omens'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114314018230551639</id><published>2006-03-23T13:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T13:56:22.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, what is there to say really? I'm busy, I'm confused. I waver between self-loathing and boredom. I don't know what it is that makes me always so malcontent, but I wish I could choke it out. I guess the issue is that I'm a grad student so being over busy is what's doing it, but even Smiley says that I lack balance in my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what do I think balance is? Having a bf. Obviously that bs, but how do I convince myself of that? How do I convince myself that balance is time with friends, healthy eating, excercise, work, and love? I want those things, I just prioritize them in extreme ways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114314018230551639?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114314018230551639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114314018230551639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114314018230551639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114314018230551639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/03/well-what-is-there-to-say-really-im.html' title=''/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114299172857536490</id><published>2006-03-21T20:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T23:47:28.413-05:00</updated><title type='text'>what am I doing?!</title><content type='html'>Somewhere ages and ages hence:  &lt;br /&gt;Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—  &lt;br /&gt;I took the one less traveled by,  &lt;br /&gt;And that has made all the difference. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, currently the road less travelled is the wrong one. So, Timbuctoo came over and we had a chat today. As we often do when we fall off the wagon. In truth, as in many cases, he and I both looked forward to the chat...as an excuse to see each other. And also it is concerning that this has happened often enough that I don't feel bad for long because I've become an expert at dealing with it. Not cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we talked. I told him about meeting the boy at the pub. Because I thought it important he know, just in case he asks me out and I say yes. Point is that this discussion was pretty honest. He told me, again, that me with another guy would be awful for him...knowing he has no right to feel that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's also the case that he's on the fence still about leaving his gf. And as much as I believe he feels for me, the fact is that I am waiting around for him to make a decision. And it's wrong. I mean, it's true that it's complicated...I know he has feelings for me, but I also shouldn't be waiting around for someone who's not completely sure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's that. If the guy asks me out, then I'm going to say yes. I have to. I mean, this is wrong. I mean, all I'm doing by allowing this to go on is allowing Timbuctoo to not make his decision. Like I've said a million times, to have his cake and eat it to. I really need to deal with this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114299172857536490?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114299172857536490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114299172857536490' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114299172857536490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114299172857536490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-am-i-doing.html' title='what am I doing?!'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114281652317039329</id><published>2006-03-19T19:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T20:02:03.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>remove head from arse</title><content type='html'>So it was quite a weekend. First and foremost, I've really lost my ability to work. I have a lot to do but nothing that needs to be done NOW! so I've been plodding and not doing much. Which is dumb cuz next week is gonna suck because of it. But hopefully I get my act together tonight.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St. Patricks day was a ton of fun. Only the great Hostess and I went out but we went to the most Irish bar in town and had a good time. A very cute Serbian from my course seemed interested in me and made me highly confused....first time I'd been attracted to someone other than Timbuctoo in a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to make matters worse, I left that pub to see Timbuctoo.....and guess who fell off the wagon yet again. Oh dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, less procrastinating, more work. I'll think through this later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114281652317039329?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114281652317039329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114281652317039329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114281652317039329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114281652317039329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/03/remove-head-from-arse.html' title='remove head from arse'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114256988498989966</id><published>2006-03-16T23:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T13:19:58.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>look at that bruise</title><content type='html'>Curling is fun. Wine is fun. Timbuctoo still has yet to disappoint me. Jerk. Today was a pretty good day. I hope tommorrow is good too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114256988498989966?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114256988498989966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114256988498989966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114256988498989966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114256988498989966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/03/look-at-that-bruise.html' title='look at that bruise'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114246070265997298</id><published>2006-03-15T17:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T17:11:42.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>lost again</title><content type='html'>sigh. Weak. Projecting. Inhibited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Timbuctoo came over today to set me up with an excercise program, which was really great of him. He brought me an excercise ball which I have to say I think rocks. But the whole experience left me feeling really out of sorts...as every encounter does, I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose part of it is that I allow him to see and talk about my faults, not that he puts me down, I've just always been honest with him and make a point of listening when he's right. But of course, it's hard to hear peoiple when they're right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's also the sort of awkwardness of not knowing how to behave. I don't know how he feels about me. I don't know what he's thinking. I don't even know what I'm thinking. I just know that I have to not jump him, I guess. So that's hard. Hard wanting to touch someone and knowing you can't, shouldn't, and won't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I guess the hardest part is knowing that he is still with his gf and that nothing will probably change. I feel it. I know it. And it sucks. And I've never expected anything else. It's just hard not to be pathetic about it. I guess I'm probably overreacting, I guess he did seem to want to touch me....certainly he made movements to playfight or to touch me and then stopped. But of course it doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he left he told me he'd probably call me at 2am on Friday night (he's got plans to get plastered and show the youngins how it's done, apparentlY). He said it half joking but I guess that the reason he said it could only be to tell me he's still thinking about me. But does that even matter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's hard fighting through my feeling of self-consciousness about excercising. Probably anyone else I wouldn't have been able to do it. But he was good. He takes it so seriously and tells me that I'm crazy for thinking like I do. It helps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish I didn't feel so broken now that he's gone. I mean I felt sorta tortured while he was here, but now I just feel lost and vulnerable and weak. Sigh. I need to have a crush on someone else to help me get past this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114246070265997298?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114246070265997298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114246070265997298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114246070265997298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114246070265997298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/03/lost-again.html' title='lost again'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114239500426171954</id><published>2006-03-14T22:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T22:56:44.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>just another sad love song</title><content type='html'>I sit on my futon and stare ahead at the wall and wonder what I should be doing. &lt;br /&gt;I could be working. Or excercising. Or living.&lt;br /&gt;And still I sit. Just like my mother. Stagnant, helpless.&lt;br /&gt;I have appetite only for melancholy. I watch sad vampires and relate.&lt;br /&gt;What is it in me that allows this? Why do I choose torment?&lt;br /&gt;No one who sees me would say I am sad or depressed or melancholic, even.&lt;br /&gt;Yet here, inside, I just want to feel sad. &lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I just want to feel. &lt;br /&gt;Do I hide from feeling by working or do I work because I have nothing to feel?&lt;br /&gt;Why do I feel life hasn't begun yet?&lt;br /&gt;Why do I love lone gunmen?&lt;br /&gt;Why do I wait?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114239500426171954?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114239500426171954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114239500426171954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114239500426171954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114239500426171954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/03/just-another-sad-love-song.html' title='just another sad love song'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9316720.post-114218474432072744</id><published>2006-03-12T12:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-12T12:32:24.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>junkie</title><content type='html'>Still a junkie. Still spent the night waiting for him. Still jumped at his beck and msn call. Still pathetic. Still in limbo. I ought to just say I'm busy and go back to work. Or tell him that I need some space because this is eating me up inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was hoping this feeling would be gone by ball season. But it won't be. And it's only my need for drama that maintains it....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that I could just move on and be interested in someone else but every time I feel a hint of attraction to someone I feel like I need to put it away, just like I did while I was with my long term bf, way back in the day. Which is stupid cuz there is no commitment here. There isn't even the possibility for Pete's sake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. I'm such a fool. Addicted to a real bad thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9316720-114218474432072744?l=talk2camels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/feeds/114218474432072744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9316720&amp;postID=114218474432072744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114218474432072744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9316720/posts/default/114218474432072744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://talk2camels.blogspot.com/2006/03/junkie.html' title='junkie'/><author><name>Camel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889309584442462197</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/30/2452/320/camel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
