tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91250235890755647322012-02-01T21:49:35.562-08:00"Prose is architecture, not interior decoration." - Ernest HemingwayBlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.comBlogger461100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-21423127302504631152010-02-27T15:35:00.001-08:002010-03-28T18:11:33.768-07:00

Tate's Hell Continued (Part 5)(This is a fictional account of a folk story from my native Florida and (c) 2009 to me.Read part 1 here; 2 here; 3 here; and 4 here. Life tending to Aunt Magdalene's dying days became a bit easier with Uncle Sam home. Euphemia found she had less to do with two other able hands around and was contented. Uncle Sam chopped and carried in the wood and at night he would

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-49090442193279394462009-12-22T14:49:00.000-08:002010-03-28T17:19:58.581-07:00

Tate's Hell Continued (Part 4)Read part 1 here; 2 here; and 3 here.(This is a fictional account of a folk story from my native Florida and (c) 2009 to me.)Aunt Magdalen was weakening every day. She no longer smelled of violets and lye--and I pitied the odors that she either bore with fortitude or forgot after being so long exposed to them. Her hands were so delicate now, like little birds, shaky

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-49333047271573964952009-11-15T16:20:00.000-08:002009-11-15T17:00:53.195-08:00

Tate's Hell Continued (Part 3)Read part 1 here and 2 here.(This is a fictional account of a folk story from my native Florida and (c) 2009 to me.)Aunt Maggie had gotten very upset by this time. Coughing and sputtering and she had to take a rest. I knew how the story ended, but I hadn't been ready for how it began. My insides felt a little sick thinking about how only Providence kept Aunt Magdalen

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-15239074130762115982009-09-06T14:14:00.000-07:002009-10-24T18:41:19.735-07:00

Tate's Hell Continued (Part 2) Read part 1 here.(This is a fictional account of a folk story from my native Florida and (c) 2009 to me.) "Well, I should start from the beginning," Aunt Magdalen said, interrupting herself with a coughing fit. We had to adjust her pillows and Lizzie brought in some tincture of steaming water that made Aunt's face look like she'd eaten a lemon. Aunt stopped wheezing

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-84576648798093894152009-07-10T18:53:00.000-07:002009-07-10T19:12:58.631-07:00

(This is a fictional account of a folk story from my native Florida and (c) 2009 to me.) Sumatra is a dying memory. Homesteads built by grandfathers, faint paths to neighbors’ houses, even the plywood-covered Sumatra Baptist Church, are all of little value now. Every last, living inhabitant of Sumatra has packed up and gone, headed out like the exodus of the Hebrews from Egypt. Those that

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-20908302637691314232009-04-26T18:53:00.000-07:002009-04-27T08:37:03.144-07:00

I once had a discussion with a friend about how peanut butter goes with just about anything. Go on, try to think of a food plus peanut butter that doesn't sound feasible. Barring any peanut allergy, you'll likely find that the endeavor is as intellectually rigorous as attempting to identify the complete value of Pi. It cannot be done. And perhaps if it could, the very fabric of our universe would

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-34133278791727256892009-03-16T19:46:00.000-07:002009-03-16T20:29:44.233-07:00

I am a lucky American. My mother owns a home in Ireland, although my Irish heritage comes from my father. Mom spends most of her time there with her partner Donal. Our 18th century home is on the main street facing a public beach and the town hall. We're also next to a funeral parlor. Things can get a little interesting when everybody and their cousin twice removed comes to pray the rosary next

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-85836444299834578192009-02-22T17:44:00.000-08:002009-02-23T05:48:35.254-08:00

Of course I knew the house would be huge. It was on the same street as the Governor's mansion. I assumed, that given it would be a large party, I would be one of the first few guests, even arriving 15 minutes late.The street is already lined with cars and I silently berate myself for not arriving earlier and missing prime real estate near the driveway. Of course, it's too dark to tell which house

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-9738471499394190382009-02-06T20:24:00.000-08:002009-02-06T21:20:34.178-08:00

I have a tradition with YiQi that goes back about 12 years from our earnest days as high schoolers desperate to be different and just a little bit eccentric. Through thick and thin, rain and shine, we have gone together to bookstores to wander and read book descriptions to our hearts content.I've mentioned before that I have a rather guilty pleasure when it comes to cheesy books. As a writer, I

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-50360642151910961572009-01-24T17:31:00.000-08:002009-02-02T10:21:46.611-08:00

Savannah bus stationmy busMy bagsI told my friends I had decided to take a bus from Atlanta to Savannah, hang out with my friend Olga for 36 hours and return home Martin Luther King, Jr. day before dinner. Larry was not enthusiastic about my plan--referring to Greyhound as having been "cleaned up a lot, but still bummy." P gave me a look of pity mingled with disgust when I mentioned it. I might

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-72252144193457135302009-01-10T19:03:00.001-08:002009-01-10T22:02:58.706-08:00

Have you ever noticed that things in your house or in your car go to decide to quit on you all at once? My attempts to fix them are something Paulo Coelho should write about--there's always a simpler answer that never occurs to me until many repressed tears later. Perhaps, the ancient Mayans knew that one day, many thousands of years later, a blue-eyed child would be born, far to the North. And

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-893909219997284592008-10-12T18:56:00.000-07:002008-10-12T20:02:43.348-07:00

Some things seem fool proof...like baking a pie. If baking a pie weren't easy, the expression, "easy as pie" wouldn't exist. Maybe it doesn't and I just made that up. But the point is, wholesome things, the things that make you feel all home and hearthy on the inside are simple. They aren't gazpacho with a hint of guava and mandarin orange or rawhide pajamas, but instead, cardboard containers of

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-68017605788564192502008-09-14T10:43:00.000-07:002008-09-14T11:51:02.972-07:00

I am four or five years old. My father dropped me off at my best friend Austin's house. I remember playing with him for what must have been a whole afternoon. Something was wrong and I knew it deep inside of me, but was only a child. I could play with the toys and whisper conspiratorially to Austin and most of the time ignore the unsettling feeling in my tummy. Then, Gabriel* came. I had known

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-20269250913537454312008-09-10T09:52:00.000-07:002008-09-10T10:11:38.378-07:00

Like everyone else, I love a good doomsday scenario, but some are more entertaining than others. There's something dreadfully entertaining about the end times, whenever they're going to happen. Think about it. If you're one of the lucky ones, all those empty cars in the street--yours. All the jewelry in Tiffany's--yours. All the rotting food in the restaurants--yours. That is, of course, unless

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-22925282774885312362008-09-06T15:52:00.000-07:002008-09-06T16:45:24.166-07:00

I'm not a patient person. I hate slow drivers on Sunday afternoons. I hate reading directions when I have a new piece of technology or equipment, I prefer to just launch into using it--sometimes to its or my detriment. Let's not even talk about where this Achilles heel led me in college when I took organic chemistry. I'm thankful the most dangerous substance they let me play with was bromine.Yet

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-73337247573094213972008-09-04T09:39:00.000-07:002008-09-04T09:51:46.872-07:00

worn things are lovely companionable, honesttheir leather cracks and faded buttercup yellowsare voices, predictable and cautionarydo you want to be like me? i am more dust than steelthey sayi am dented where you are strongi am rust where you are flashbut my cigar box with the label stained and blurredtells its story slyly, just before i nod to sleepperhaps so that i miss it, so that i forgeti've

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-76651269828827301672008-09-04T07:35:00.000-07:002008-09-04T07:37:40.567-07:00

Lots and lots of adorable baby penguins! Thank you to Olga for this pic that she took for me in Montreal! :)

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-55345174946345033962008-09-01T10:30:00.000-07:002008-09-01T15:00:26.369-07:00

Last week was a fairly stressful week, for reasons that don't bear going into. And of course, whenever I get stressed out, I break out like I'm 13, and huddle under the covers with good book. If I were given a spirit guide, it would probably be the ostrich. Sure, I can take the heat, or the freezing cold, eat iron, or elude lions. But when it's all over and done with, just let me shut out the

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-2585700612976840492008-08-28T09:35:00.000-07:002008-08-28T10:00:54.766-07:00

Yesterday, I dove to grab a receipt that flew under my car and banged my head on the rear view mirror on the way back up. I stood for a few minutes next to my car wincing. It was a bone-cracking whack that made my eyes feel a bit shaky and my head start to burn. I checked my scalp and no blood...it was probably all coagulating in my brain I thought morbidly. Ever the tough soldier, I carried on

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-29271331257259032862008-08-27T08:50:00.000-07:002008-08-27T09:36:18.339-07:00

I remember many years ago, my father and I were walking along the beach. He would be getting re-married soon. My toes were encrusted with sand and my jeans were rolled up at the knees, though they were wet anyway. This was one of the last times I would talk him like that--with no guilt, no baggage, just me and him on somewhat equal footing. I remember looking out at the waves and telling him,

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-15898059581335288262008-08-24T15:53:00.001-07:002008-08-26T05:26:35.200-07:00

Last week, I was dangerous. I threw caution to the wind and got acrylic nails...After turning down the "Perfect Pink" treatment three times, I finally got what I wanted--slightly rounded tips, a beautiful coffee with cream color. God knows why I wanted them...call it a strange impulse/morbid curiosity that developed while stuck in traffic listening to Lite FM. I chose a clean-looking place near

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-67052142460627749122008-08-12T09:05:00.000-07:002008-08-24T15:52:48.414-07:00

I have a confession to make. I read romance novels, the atrociously cheddar kind that have very formulaic characters and plots you could set your watch to. Of course I have standards...I refuse--or am possibly too embarrassed--to purchase paperbacks with scantily clad people on the cover and/or a title that implies a sex act or body part. I prefer trash that embraces some semblance of "historical

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-49677409634029676332008-08-04T16:03:00.000-07:002008-08-06T15:57:36.342-07:00

Fundamentally, most of us want to be liked. We don't need to be loved per se--though perhaps some psychiatrists would disagree. We need to be in on the joke, picked first for dodge ball, someone that people want to high-five. This is, I think why salespeople can be so insidious. After all, they not only sell us things we want and sometimes need, but more importantly, they play to our most deeply

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-40246773878752823012008-08-02T10:46:00.000-07:002008-08-02T11:53:41.962-07:00

Character flaws often reveal themselves in the most benign and un-trying circumstances. For example, this morning I was making pancakes with Liontamer and I grew very impatient wanting to flip the pancake over. Perhaps if I had mixed the batter from scratch, rather than added 2/3 cup of water and stirred, I would have been better prepared mentally to wait for the signs to flip.Maybe for some,

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-68851634466793270122008-07-28T18:18:00.000-07:002008-07-28T18:40:08.462-07:00

Driving home from Stacey's apartment. The sky is pink and orange and I'm in workout clothes. My feet probably stink. I need to get gas and go to my regular spot like a fish that knows a good coral reef. Some men pull up in a truck behind me. Their car is about 40 years old and it sounds like its on its last legs.They are smiling, and I can see their teeth flashing white in the growing shadows.

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-6121996322362495442008-07-27T17:48:00.000-07:002008-07-27T19:35:25.753-07:00

I was reading Dr. Sanjay Gupta's blog post memorializing Michael DeBakey, a surgeon Dr. Gupta called a "medical legend." One of the comments from a medical student says that Dr. DeBakey said in a Q&A session many years ago that his biggest regret was wasting too much time. How anyone considered a pioneer in their field can think they have wasted too much time speaks of either tremendous

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-47809574086641251892008-07-09T10:02:00.000-07:002008-07-09T10:03:04.251-07:00

How single men never seem to know how to properly hold a baby.

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-11388407803214980942008-07-05T13:16:00.000-07:002008-07-05T14:00:25.818-07:00

I've had a lot of time to think about what it is like to return home. It takes a while to prepare your mind to re-visit things. Returning to the places you grew up around and loved can be a disheartening lesson in the inevitable doom borne from the passage of time. Your parents are a bit grayer around the temples, slower to get off the couch. Your favorite deli is dirtier, there are more potholes

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-14545116303745637652007-12-01T10:21:00.000-08:002007-12-01T10:25:01.729-08:00

On World AIDS Day, today, please take a moment to remember the people living and those that have been lost to the most devastating plague of our time.In case you were wondering, here are the latest stats.

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-50633385937367283792007-09-22T18:57:00.000-07:002007-09-22T19:06:53.144-07:00

So everyone has heard about the risk people take on the Internet. From female bloggers being threatened, to children being approached by pedophiles, to people encouraging the desperate to commit suicide for their own sick pleasure; what people do in the digital world may very well be more depraved than the one outside our computers.Throughout history there have always been the dark, horrific

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-53882594544169366172007-09-06T07:53:00.000-07:002007-09-06T07:55:54.835-07:00

This morning my mom told me that famed Italian tenor Luciano Pavarotti has died. He was one of those rare artists that had such a warm vibe about him. I don't think I ever saw a picture or video of him where he wasn't smiling. I don't know much about famous opera singers, but I have loved opera ever since I saw a performance of Puccini's La Boheme on PBS when I was 13. I think I also am rather

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-38489240585659037392007-08-21T17:57:00.001-07:002007-08-21T17:58:58.012-07:00

So my friend Tina wrote me a poem to cheer me up because I've been so stressed lately. I think it's beautiful....

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-26908765868969095502007-07-27T19:04:00.000-07:002007-07-27T20:01:52.989-07:00

Well, the ceiling's been falling in on me so I haven't been able to update as much as I'd like to, which is even more depressing considering there has been hyperactivity in the world of public health. Here are some highlights:The Kaiser Family Foundation is every health policy afficionado's bible. It's the first place I look to see if I can find information nicely analyzed and relevant. A couple

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-686655820089750732007-07-11T15:12:00.001-07:002007-07-11T20:00:25.505-07:00

And you thought the dangers of iPods were relegated to listening too loudly or too frequently to Barry Manilow. I've heard of the guy getting hit by a car while texting and listening listening to an iPod, but this is a new one-- iPod induced injury while jogging in a thunderstorm....

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-47493506574683950752007-07-07T17:50:00.000-07:002007-07-07T19:43:59.043-07:00

According to the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality, medical errors are now one of the leading causes of death in the United States, higher than motor vehicle accidents or breast cancer. A significant contributor to medical errors in hospitals is the medical residency program. As an editorial in the June 28 issue of the New England Journal of Medicine attests, the 30 hour shifts and 80

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-90714668135233852692007-07-03T17:00:00.001-07:002007-07-03T21:23:49.377-07:00

I might as well admit it publicly--my boyfriend is an avid, practically obsessive video game music fan and he's slowly starting to convert me. After five years, god knows how many tracks of blips, bloops, midi-rips, and Megaman remixes, I'm starting to appreciate the fact that the soundtracks to games I enjoyed during my childhood are experiencing a renaissance under the hands of some very

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-81895877815683137072007-06-26T19:19:00.000-07:002007-06-26T19:21:04.548-07:00

YiQi asked me to write something about Outbreak. You might have heard of it. The film takes place in Africa where a dreadful disease could be the next great plague of humankind. There are naughty little monkeys in it....and Dustin Hoffman. I haven't seen it in a while, but to be honest, movies like that always make me cringe becuase 1) That kind of thing probably would never happen and

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-8799967599439903712007-06-21T20:04:00.000-07:002007-06-21T21:42:33.225-07:00

Lately, I've been a little addicted to this site, whoissick. It's like trivial pursuit for epidemiologists, with little multicolored wedges (symptoms) that fill in a round based on who reports what symptoms (fever, headache, etc...) in a given combination. If you look up your own zip code, you can find out who in your general vicinity has a tummy ache or runny nose.From: http://whoissick.org/

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-40828214171384484722007-03-02T11:39:00.000-08:002007-03-02T11:48:20.661-08:00

Maybe I was wrong. Conspiracies do exist.More on this later.....

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-25860980862352761862007-02-28T19:42:00.000-08:002007-02-28T20:55:45.744-08:00

Political conversations tend to be the most intelligent and thought-provoking late in the evening--lord knows why. Well, I can take a guess. Fatigue mimics drunkenness and we all become suddenly so much more philosophical, impassioned, argumentative when we're impaired. Ironic isn't it?So, it's 11pm and I'm talking with LT about the '08 battlefield and how its unclear whether Gore will run for

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-92119640822608299932007-02-28T13:11:00.000-08:002007-02-28T13:13:52.670-08:00

According to the BBC: "A pair of Sumatran tiger cubs and a set of young orang-utans, all abandoned at birth, have become inseparable after sharing a room at an Indonesian zoo. But the friendship is not destined to last as tigers start eating meat when they are three months old and will need to be separated from their new playmates."

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-91862916590578947982007-02-28T13:10:00.000-08:002007-02-28T13:11:04.456-08:00

I get the fact that Daniel Radcliffe (also known as "Harry Potter" ) wants to break out into more intellectual, mature roles. No 10 or 12 year-old actor who takes a role so desired as HP thinks one day they'll want to be seen as something more than their character.Radcliffe is in his late teens now and he's British, which automatically gives him a penchant for the stage and he's obviously

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-84925967006596796532007-02-26T19:03:00.000-08:002007-02-26T19:23:56.596-08:00

Except for the sea cucumbers and this little dude here. They don't seem to be as effected by the melting of ancient antarctic ice shelves...I'm going to go grab some peanuts. I'll need the salt.Who else was sitting on the edge of their seat waiting for Good Old Al to announce his candidacy for President?Even my hero, JC, as I call him (also known as Former U.S. President Jimmy Carter) wants Gore

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-44490938116236537332007-02-23T16:18:00.000-08:002007-02-26T19:21:24.632-08:00

I always find it mildly amusing that as Americans, we have nothing better to do with ourselves than find things to be afraid of. It is a seductive proposition, or maybe simply a Darwinian prerogative, that we look for the competitive edge in survival. We want to be the person to know that mixing pop rocks and Coca-Cola kills you (for all my lazy readers, there's no truth to that tale), or that

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-75498845341363120042007-02-18T09:09:00.000-08:002007-02-26T19:22:05.451-08:00

A lot of people harbor misconceptions about the South--some are more valid than others. It really can be a different world--or at the least a very unfriendly one in some areas if you're not Caucasian, Christian, and into Civil War history.Even in Atlanta, my hometown, history classes throughout elementary school, middle school, and high school ignored the Civil Rights movement, probably our

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9125023589075564732.post-75531928145849872302007-02-11T16:24:00.000-08:002007-02-26T19:21:39.278-08:00

It isn't my intention to start this blog off with a pity party...but if a pity party is the source of inspiration to start something like this, I guess its just as good an excuse as any. Don't worry gentle reader, in true rhetorical fashion, I plan to spend more time criticizing others than feeling sorry for myself :)I was wondering the other day whether I'm the "type" for the city I live in.

BlueToYouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165223550235796088noreply@blogger.com1