<?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-6878553377099230472</id><updated>2012-02-04T22:40:53.366-08:00</updated><category term='stand-up'/><category term='graphic design'/><category term='why'/><category term='love'/><category term='comedy'/><category term='life'/><title type='text'>the walls fall, the story occurs...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-4555937231146507251</id><published>2011-09-13T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T10:39:42.431-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i feed my baby when she's hungry</title><content type='html'>my opinions of nursing in public have evolved quite a bit since giving birth. lately i've noticed quite a few news stories about mothers nursing in public that are told to stop, leave, cover up, go to the bathroom, etc. the response by mothers is to hold a "nurse-in" at the location where the offense took place and demand that the location amend their policies to accommodate nursing mothers. my mind has been preoccupied lately as to what the problem is -- who is right/wrong? the side that wants to feed their baby wherever the baby is hungry? the side that doesn't want to see an exposed breast in public? when it comes down to it, i don't believe that either side is wrong and that instead the fault lies in society as a whole and not the individuals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the conclusion is that society has taken pleasure out of context. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the physiological purpose of the female breast is to feed and nourish her offspring. there is no other mammal on earth that does not feed it's young publicly. as a society we have been caught and in turn teach to be shocked and embarrassed at the sight of an exposed breast... unless that breast is barely covered by a bikini top or a victoria's secret bra. but there is context to that as well because a bikini top is perfectly acceptable at the beach but not at the mall. photos and billboards of scantily clad vicoria's secret models are acceptable at the mall but people aren't walking around the mall in nothing but underwear. i'm not suggesting that women expose their breasts at all times, just that society accept the breast in one more context... the main purpose of it! the reason we HAVE breasts to begin with! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;while i'm not sure that we can change most of society currently, there are probably many individuals that will change their minds with the right perspective. as i said, my own views have evolved quite a bit since giving birth. i even thought it was inappropriate to nurse without a cover until recently i was with a new mother whose baby refused to eat while being covered. so her choices were screaming hungry baby, or partially exposed breast, or to leave (with a screaming hungry baby until finding a private, sanitary place to nurse). i had to ask myself why i thought it was so inappropriate? why was i embarrassed for her and secretly anxiously hope the baby would just allow her to cover up? was it just because of my sheltered upbringing? because in anatomy class of christian high school barely glossing over the reproductive system because it was uncomfortable? i honestly think that the answer to the problem of nursing in public is by introducing it early to our youngsters so that future generations will see it as natural and normal; and that the next generations of children will think asking a nursing mother to stop would be as absurd as asking someone to stop eating in public, or as absurd as asking someone not to feed a baby a bottle in public. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so the problem of seeing the female breast as primarily a sex toy is a byproduct of the bigger issue with our current american culture which is taking pleasure out of context. this is evident both in how we view sex and food. the priorities seem to be backward for most people. with food it is apparent that people eat what is most pleasurable and try to make healthy choices within that. instead we should look at food as our fuel source, looking first at what we will be able to use the most out of and what will provide the best nutrients then secondly what tastes best out of those options. with sex it should be viewed first for it's main purpose - the procreation of our species. the reason sex exists is to reproduce, and it also happens to be awesome. if this was truly embedded into the minds of our children i have no doubt that we would see a sharp decline of STDs, abortion and teen pregnancy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the bottom line is that we need to see things for what they are *naturally occurring* instead of silly societal stigma. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~ on the topic of nursing i'd also like to add that nursing isn't always an option and i thank God we have formula ~~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-4555937231146507251?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/4555937231146507251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=4555937231146507251&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4555937231146507251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4555937231146507251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-feed-my-baby-when-shes-hungry.html' title='i feed my baby when she&apos;s hungry'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-2269558741340569</id><published>2011-07-11T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T10:44:26.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>present</title><content type='html'>too much of my time has been spent thinking about mistakes i've made, or being afraid of mistakes i will make in the future. my mind still has the tendancy to bring up embarasing things i've done or hurtful things i've said, and i now will choose to bring my mind to the present and ignore those ugly thoughts. i am not my thoughts, i am who i choose to be... i am what i focus on and what i do in the present. i am my current choices. i am my daughter's mother, i am my husband's girlfriend, i am an artist, i am happy and i choose to be this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have a clarity that i've not had in a long time. i found some draft posts that nevre made it up on the blog, i will finish those thoughts and post them later on. i need to journal my thoughts more often, it helps me focus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"actually, there's only one instant, and it's right now.  and it's eternity." -Waking Life&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-2269558741340569?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/2269558741340569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=2269558741340569&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/2269558741340569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/2269558741340569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2011/07/present.html' title='present'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-7686021515036992673</id><published>2011-02-14T15:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-04T22:40:53.389-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my bailey story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-soITayOlSLw/TVnLrAUZpTI/AAAAAAAAAF4/h8ICufKGGE0/s1600/2011-02-14%2B15.13.45.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-soITayOlSLw/TVnLrAUZpTI/AAAAAAAAAF4/h8ICufKGGE0/s200/2011-02-14%2B15.13.45.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573709953528079666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i began this post, bailey was 10 days 23 hours &lt;br /&gt;today, she is 1 year 19 hours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i sit at the computer with a milk-drunk baby resting in the crook of my elbow i can't but recall, as i have every day since, the events leading up to her birth and how she entered the world. i've been meaning to blog this much sooner fearing i'd forget the details but thankfully such an epic event remains clear in my memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i decided to take my maternity leave from work beginning january 24th as on of the due dates the doctor gave us was the 27th. joseph just received a seasonal promotion for the valentine season at proflowers that would be taking him to atlanta february 5th through 15th so we're all hoping that the baby arrives before then. my doctor appointment on the 24th informed us that i had gone from being 70 to 80% effaced, so we knew there was progress. i spent that week nesting, the first day of which i woke up at 5:30 am and immediately vacuumed then swept the floors, then swiffered them. after breakfast i mopped then went over them with the wet jet swiffer. considered swiffering the walls... then played the assassin's creed ps3 game that joseph got for christmas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sharon, feeling anxious about missing the labor process, drove down from LA for the weekend hoping bailey would make her grand entrance. on the 29th we went to the zoo to walk walk walk. my doctor appointment on the 27th informed us that i was now dilated 1 cm and still effaced 80%. the nurse stripped the membranes and said that this can encourage labor. some begin labor 5 hours after this procedure. i was hopeful, but didn't get too excited. grammy had driven me to the appointment since joseph had our car at work; after the appointment she took me out to cabrillo where we walked along to encourage labor. tuesday and wednesday, the 1st and 2nd of february, i spent organizing and reorganizing all of bailey's clothes that we'd received, walking, bouncing on yoga ball and playing assassin's creed on the playstation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"some women just need to relax to go into labor" melody told me on wednesday evening. i took this seriously as it was not something i tried yet. thursday morning i put on a random british tv show about college students, sat on the couch and concentrated on relaxing every muscle in my body. i did notice some strange braxton-hicks contractions... couldn't quite figure out what was different about them but at 3:30pm i began timing them and by the time joseph got home from work at 4:30 i had experienced three of them exactly 30 minutes apart. i wanted to start walking again but joseph had just had one of the longest most tiring days of work and just wanted to relax and prepare for his trip. hoping my mom would feel up to going for a walk i sent her a text and received response that they were on their way to souplantation and ask if we'd join them. joseph said he wasn't feeling up to it but that if i really wanted to go we could. i was thinking that if these contractions were the real deal that i definitely wanted to go somewhere with an endless buffet of some sort before heading to the hospital where they don't feed you until you give birth... though we decided that the souplantation twenty minutes from home and thirty minutes from the hospital was probably not the best option so we decided on sizzler. mild contractions continued through dinner and when we got home they were about twenty minutes apart at which point i decided on a bath while joseph packed for his trip. after about an hour in the bath contractions were about ten minutes apart and after texting sharon to start making her way back down from LA we decided to try to get some sleep around 10pm. i was asleep for maybe an hour and a half when i awoke to a pretty intense contraction and what felt like the a really strong baby kick. "these contractions are starting to get painful," i said to joseph and began to sit up. immediately fluids started pouring from me and i yelled "my water broke, get me a towel, i need a towel!" joseph popped up and got me a towel then promptly laid back down and tried to go back to sleep (keep in mind, he'd had a long busy day at work and was hoping to get rest in order to be more alert during the labor process.)  i ran to the bathroom with the towel between my legs and jumped in the shower only to discover that my underwear and pants had absorbed the whole mess. i was dissapointed becasue those were the pants i was planning on wearing to the hospital and coming home in... so i chose my second favorite pants and, per joseph's coaxing, tried to lay back down and rest but that really wasn't happening. i started timing the contractions again and they were now six minutes apart. i sent a text to my sisters and mom. sharon replied that she was ten minutes away from my house, mom asked what i wanted to do, and melody sent me a link to a website that helps time contractions. i endured two contractions utilizing techniques learned in our childbirth prep class before sharon arrived, super excited and alert. she helped me time the contractions, inconsistantly 4 then 5 then 6 then 3 minutes apart so i woke joseph up and he joined us in the living room. "i can't believe i shaved for this" he joked, quoting cloris leachman from the celebrity roast of bob saget. i decided then that i wanted to watch the celebrity roast of bob saget so joseph brought it up on the netflix instant watch. we endured a few minutes of the bad writing orrated by john stamos and a contraction before i told him to skip forward to either cloris leechman or norm macdonald, whichever is first which ended up being cloris leechman. "i'm not here to roast bpb saget" she began and i paused the program for a contraction. sharon started the timer and it lasted about a minute. we talked for a moment about how it was pretty strong before pressing play. "i'm here to [kiss] john stamos" cloris continued and i paused it again for another contraction. "another one already?!" joseph exclaimed "yeah, i think it's time to go to the hospital" when the contraction was over i went to the bathroom while sharon and joseph shuffled everything into the car. i was feeling very wary about the car ride but joseph assured me he'd take it easy around corners. i beleive i had about three contractions during the 10 minute car ride to the hospital and we arrived there somewhere between 1:30 and 2 am. since only one person was allowed to join me in triage, sharon parked the car and waited in the lobby for us to be assigned to a room. the lady at the triage desk asked a lot of questions about my medical history and was very friendly but moving a lot slower than i would have hoped given the frequency of my contractions. she told me to go into the bathroom alone to collect a urine sample. i turned toward the bathroom and another woman in labor asked to use the bathroom but the nurse made her wait for me to go first and the nurse directed me to fill out a survey while i was in there too. so now i'm in the bathroom alone having contractions trying to pee in a tiny cup around my huge baby belly and i had used the bathroom before leaving the house anyway so nothing was coming out... knowing the whole time that a poor lady in labor is having to hold in her pee waiting for me. the survey that i had to fill out was basically "does your man beat you" which added to my frustration becuase it didn't apply to me. finally i left the bathroom and they took me behind a curtain where i undressed and hooked up the fetal monitoring to my belly. another nurse came in and was asking the same questions that i had just answered at the front desk so i stopped answering her questions and went into my deep breathing mode. during each contraction i focused on relaxing every muscle in my body including my face to allow all of the tension to be where it needed to be in my uterus. this confused the nurse asking the questions because she said "wow, she just slept right through that contraction." joseph scoffed at her and i shook my head no. somewhere around this time someone came in to have me sign some papers... she made me show my id and health care card but i barely remember that part. i do remember the nurse deciding to check to see how far dialated i was and was shocked that i was already at 7 centimeters. i heard her in the hallway say to another nurse "this girl is in the zone, we need to get her upstairs immediately" things began to get hazy to my perception as they put me in the wheelchair and brought me to a delivery room. i had my eyes closed most of the time and i remember both sharon and joseph being there and a very annoying orderly yelling in broken english from my room at someone in the hallway "you told me to bring a table but there's already a table! this room doesn't need a table but i brought in a table!" i think i shushed her but she couldn't hear me. a few minutes later my contractions became so intense that they were pushing the baby down. my eyes snapped open and only sharon and the orderly were in the room "can someone check me?!" i was panicked that joseph and the nurses were all gone "i need to be checked, someone check me!" &lt;br /&gt;sharon asked the orderly who told her to push the button and when sharon looked at the bed there were all kinds of buttons "which button?!" she began to panic too. joseph came back in and the orderly finally came over and pushed the button for her and a nurse came in and then a bunch of nurses and a doctor lady came in and they were rolling me back and forth on the table i heard someone say nine centimeters and things were getting more and more hazy as the time passed. the lady doctor said to me "imagine how have a really big poop, the biggest poop you've ever had and you need to just push really hard to get it all out" so i started pushing and the nurses were all cheering me on and saying "good job!" for a few minutes but my perception was really hazy by then and i just remember a shift in everyone's demenor and it became very serious and grim. i asked "what's wrong?" but they didn't answer or didn't hear me. joseph and sharon told me later that no one told them what was going on either, but they started talking in code and more nurses began to shuffle in and out of the room, next thing i know i'm in the operating room and they're injecting the spinal into my back. my legs got warm and tingly thenn began to go numb very quickly and they put an oxygen mask on me. there was a curtain at my waist when they brought joseph in all dressed in white  scrubs. i couldn't feel any pain as they worked on the other side of the curtain but i could definately feel movement. i swayed back and forth with each tug saying "wooooaaaah!" "woaaah..." being silly. later on joseph told me that although he was frightfully concerned his thought was 'well if she can be so light hearted in the situation i guess i can too.' but he didn't quite know they had me so drugged up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i felt major pressure relief as the doctor said "alright there's her head, lets get the rest of her!" and then an ENORMOUS relief of weight as i saw them shuffle off to a window where they handed the baby off. i didn't take my eyes off the window waiting to see her, waiting to hear her cry waiting... a couple of nurses passed by the window and gave a thumbs up, then the room was empty. to my surprise from behind me joseph walked toward me with a little baby burrito wearing that silly newborn baby beanie with her pink pink face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"she's perfect, she's perfect, she's perfect"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i cried and cried because i couldn't believe she was mine and that she was everything i dreamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we stayed in the hospital until the following tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now as i finish this post it is a saturday. Bailey turned one year old and had a wonderful day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0UP8TbiRnII/Ty4kMHNSo6I/AAAAAAAAA2c/7-4qj1DZrok/s1600/photo%2B%25281%2529.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0UP8TbiRnII/Ty4kMHNSo6I/AAAAAAAAA2c/7-4qj1DZrok/s200/photo%2B%25281%2529.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705537568436822946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-7686021515036992673?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/7686021515036992673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=7686021515036992673&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7686021515036992673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7686021515036992673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-bailey-story.html' title='my bailey story'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-soITayOlSLw/TVnLrAUZpTI/AAAAAAAAAF4/h8ICufKGGE0/s72-c/2011-02-14%2B15.13.45.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-5894042547864662917</id><published>2010-10-22T06:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T15:11:06.887-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>today: 25 weeks, 2 days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;slowly progressing, one day at a time, growing larger by the moment :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been stuggling to keep even emotions lately... at work unruly customers get to me and frustrate me more than usual... at home i mostly battle my computer. last night i spent hours and hours on a logo, thinking that it was saved the entire time but when i went to save as a copy turns out illustrator wasn't saving it at all and shut down without so much as a jpeg to show for all the work. it really shouldn't suprise me so much because my version of the software isn't exactly legal. but that didn't keep me from crying about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've also been having some weird weird dreams lately... last night i had psychic abilities and a talking dog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;struggling with having faith that the world be will repaired as i do my part... faith that the world is doing it's part...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-5894042547864662917?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/5894042547864662917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=5894042547864662917&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/5894042547864662917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/5894042547864662917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/10/today-25-weeks-2-days-slowly.html' title=''/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-8048209764985742522</id><published>2010-09-10T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T06:43:43.189-07:00</updated><title type='text'>it's a girl!</title><content type='html'>today: 19 weeks, 2 days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;went to the sonogram technician today for the "20 week" ultrasound. we're not QUITE 20 weeks along but they were able to see everything they needed including what turned out to be little lady parts :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the tech was very impressed with how well she was able to capture little bailey as she flipped and kicked around during the process. she's a very active one, i feel her moving around quite often. i love that we got to see her move around on the sonogram, and it's awesome that even as i'm typing i can picture what she's doing in there that's causing the fluttering feeling in my abdomen. i already love her and joseph's whole face lit up as he watched the little baby move and turn and open and close her hands. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pictures!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this one is my favorite, a perfectly captured profile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsKiZ4SGUI/AAAAAAAAAEs/IZwVOOJg_HA/s1600/profile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsKiZ4SGUI/AAAAAAAAAEs/IZwVOOJg_HA/s320/profile.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515513754824087874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;leg and belly, big ol' baby belly that i can't wait to give raspberries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsLBQ58BlI/AAAAAAAAAFU/hU4CszPIZ_8/s1600/belly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsLBQ58BlI/AAAAAAAAAFU/hU4CszPIZ_8/s320/belly.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515514284991055442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;baby skeleton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsLAubBC0I/AAAAAAAAAFM/5tEBQYj7hbc/s1600/ribcage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsLAubBC0I/AAAAAAAAAFM/5tEBQYj7hbc/s320/ribcage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515514275734555458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my second favorite, showing her tibia, fibula, radius, ulna and humerus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsLAGUpr6I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U7QI1haOzlc/s1600/radius+ulna.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsLAGUpr6I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U7QI1haOzlc/s320/radius+ulna.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515514264970440610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the winner is... it's a girl!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsK_mXrChI/AAAAAAAAAE8/cf0JbkMUWfs/s1600/itsagirl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsK_mXrChI/AAAAAAAAAE8/cf0JbkMUWfs/s320/itsagirl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515514256393177618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another profile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsK_O1lUMI/AAAAAAAAAE0/ihcuhN2nvmk/s1600/profile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsK_O1lUMI/AAAAAAAAAE0/ihcuhN2nvmk/s320/profile.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515514250076180674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-8048209764985742522?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/8048209764985742522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=8048209764985742522&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/8048209764985742522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/8048209764985742522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-girl.html' title='it&apos;s a girl!'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/TIsKiZ4SGUI/AAAAAAAAAEs/IZwVOOJg_HA/s72-c/profile.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-6886169932063584312</id><published>2010-08-17T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T21:43:22.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>baby ticker</title><content type='html'>today: 15 weeks 6 days &lt;br /&gt;i keep beginning an entry then end up forgetting what i'm doing, getting distracted, or falling asleep. i've had quite the journey with this pregnancy so far and still find it a bit difficult to accept as reality. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;making it through the first trimester was pretty rough, but i did have assistance from many directions, including dorothy's sea bands which really helped with the nausea. now that i'm in the second semester i don' feel nauseous nearly as often but i am pretty exhausted all the time. my belly bump has become noticeable only to me and my size 9 pants still fit! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jenny and i have been taking walks at the nightime zoo at least once a week (a year pass was my bday present from her). i'm dissapointed that summer is coming to a close but i'm also looking forward to the autumn months. i'm still working on ideas for a pregnant halloween costume. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't wait to have a baby. there's a fullfilment in it that i don't think i've ever realized before. after stuggling with art and comedy i now realize that THIS is my purpose.  and while i still enjoy writing and creating, my child will be my true legacy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-6886169932063584312?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/6886169932063584312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=6886169932063584312&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6886169932063584312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6886169932063584312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/08/baby-ticker.html' title='baby ticker'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-2711088368386690482</id><published>2010-06-30T10:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T10:48:24.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'>painfully uncool</title><content type='html'>yeah for once in a rare blue moon i see everything clear. i'll be a beautiful let down, that's what i'll forever be. and though it may cost my soul i'll sing for free. we're still chasin our tails and the rising run and our dark planet's still spinning in a race where no one wins and no one's won. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't belong here i don't belong here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we are a beautiful let down. painfully uncool. &lt;br /&gt;church of the dropouts, the losers, the sinners, the failures and the fools. oh, what a beautiful let down. are we salt in the wound? let us sing one true tune...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;feels like i don't belong here... feels like i'm a let down cuz i don't belong here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CYxFEFklMPA&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CYxFEFklMPA&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-2711088368386690482?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/2711088368386690482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=2711088368386690482&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/2711088368386690482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/2711088368386690482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/06/painfully-uncool.html' title='painfully uncool'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-698321509022077926</id><published>2010-05-26T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T14:04:19.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>communication is killer</title><content type='html'>lack of communication kills everything... it breeds darkness and negativity. when i wonder why i don't just say what i'm thinking i usually answer myself that i don't know for sure whether or not what i'm feeling is truly valid. i end up keeping it to myself and i never know how much little thoughts like that effect me until i've hoarded enough of them that they come out in little tiny monster snaps that hurt peoples feelings. since moving to our new apartment, i've been trying really hard to keep a flow of communication with my husband. after holding all of my feelings in for so long it's hard for me to bring up what bothers me. and with joseph putting all of his effort into making sure i'm happy i'm sure it's hard for him too when he disagrees with something that that upsets me or something that i think is wrong. he asked me once why i always have to be right... and i responded that of course i'm going to think i'm right until someone else tells me otherwise... that's why we discuss things. i don't just &lt;b&gt;know&lt;/b&gt; what i've done wrong or that an idea i have is way out of line or out of proportion unless someone communicates with me. defensiveness is the opposite and enemy of communication. i think that being afraid that joseph will become defensive keeps me from communicating issues with him. part of being a woman is being emotional and feeling things deeply... we can be irrational and crazy sometimes and depending on the amount of hormones in our system we have no idea what the correct perspective is. part of what i discovered when i was with comedy was that i can open myself up more than i think and people won't hate me for it... of course when i do reveal more of what's inside me it's not all good things. i have my own orneriness and inefficiencies. i even get mad at my own goals. i really don't know what my problem is sometimes, it's almost like i'm not able to let myself be completely happy... that so much of my life is going so well i'm afraid it's not true, and as soon as something small or negative happens i almost throw up my hands and yell at the universe "i KNEW it was too good to be true!" ...but is it really too good to be true? am i so afraid of feelings, being happy, being in love that i sabotage myself? i do sabotage myself, i know that for sure... even with something as simple as making zombies... i make a few that i like and become afraid that i'll do something i don't like... i set the bar too high for myself... i need to fully grasp that it's OKAY to learn. students make mistakes and learn from them. i'm not going to produce 100% perfection all the time and accepting that is very difficult. but it's life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-698321509022077926?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/698321509022077926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=698321509022077926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/698321509022077926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/698321509022077926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/05/communication-is-killer.html' title='communication is killer'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-3262866143884940228</id><published>2010-05-25T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T19:32:57.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>relationships</title><content type='html'>one that's been pervading my thoughts a lot is my relationship with comedy... to give a history of our relationship i had brief, playful flirtations with comedy in high school drama but the full on fling began when my husband prodded me to introduce myself last year. i was infatuated... but it scared me so i took it down a notch and kept my distance for a few months. it wasn't too long before i decided i couldn't stay away and dove head over heels into what was some sort of passionate existence - spending every moment i could on the stage, spending hours in traffic, leaving work early sacrificing different parts of my life for these brief encounters that left me breathless. comedy revealed to me things that i had no idea about myself and taught me principles and awareness that i didn't even know i was lacking. my brain was moving without rest, thinking of different ideas that comedy would like, activities we could do together to keep things fresh and of course a lot of those ideas didn't pan out... comedy would get annoyed with me or disappointed when i failed. those failures began to wear on me until eventually all i could see was how i was incomplete, young and inexperienced. the stress became too much, and the communication started to break down. i didn't listen when comedy spoke to me, i just assumed that it was angry, stressing out and stomping my feet only further proving my immaturity. comedy and i began to grow apart until now where we don't even speak to each other. i don't really want to see our mutual friends for a while because it still hurts too much. though my husband is still close with it and i ask him how comedy is doing from time to time but i'm not ready yet to return to those places where we were so close. those locations where we spent those precious moments together laughing, crying, brooding... but i know that eventually my heart will heal and i'll be able to move on and we can have a healthy friendship. for now the wounds are still too fresh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-3262866143884940228?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/3262866143884940228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=3262866143884940228&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/3262866143884940228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/3262866143884940228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/05/relationships.html' title='relationships'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-4695125281182094751</id><published>2010-04-14T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T18:55:44.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my first media mention</title><content type='html'>san diego citybeat magazine 04-14-10 page 40&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/S8ZxR0_3tqI/AAAAAAAAAEc/lp9Zxq3yH9g/s1600/citybeat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/S8ZxR0_3tqI/AAAAAAAAAEc/lp9Zxq3yH9g/s400/citybeat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460176149331556002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sdcitybeat.com/cms/story/detail/reports_from_the_scene/9151/"&gt;link to online article&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-4695125281182094751?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/4695125281182094751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=4695125281182094751&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4695125281182094751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4695125281182094751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-first-media-mention.html' title='my first media mention'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/S8ZxR0_3tqI/AAAAAAAAAEc/lp9Zxq3yH9g/s72-c/citybeat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-1387231046884101808</id><published>2010-04-08T11:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T06:28:56.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>beryl corbitt</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"we leave with nothing but love"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've come to accept that i'm not quite normal... that i don't handle most situations the way that an average individual would... doesn't mean that i don't try most of the time. it comforts me to know the amount of people in my life that have known and accepted this about me long before i had a clue :)  &lt;br /&gt;looking back, my great grandmother was the same way. though she was 60 years older than me i always found a bit of my identity in her. for as long as i knew her she was never the the one leading a conversation or trying to be the center of attention but was a goldmine of information and ready to answer any questions she may have the answer to.  one of my favorite moments with her was when she came to my bridal shower and pulled me aside, wanting me to open my present from her separate from the rest of the gifts. inside the gift was curtains, a jewelry box, and an apron. she lifted up the apron and said "this isn't for you, it's for joseph" and started giggling. she had an amazing memory too, often asking by name how my friends were doing. she even remembered their birthdays. i like remembering her when i was about five years old and she was trying to teach me how to swim faster... wading in the shallow end of the pool with her skirted bathing suite and huge white visor...&lt;br /&gt;there's no doubt that she lived a full life... no one can ask for more than 95 years. her passing does amplify a certain gap in our family... and i have to find my own way to celebrate her life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"only the losers win, we're got nothing to prove. we'll leave the world with nothing to lose" -sf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-1387231046884101808?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/1387231046884101808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=1387231046884101808&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/1387231046884101808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/1387231046884101808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/04/beryl-corbitt.html' title='beryl corbitt'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-3692660981979917372</id><published>2010-03-26T06:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T11:49:58.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>moving right along</title><content type='html'>so it's been over a week since the st patrick's day show. it was kind of embarrassing. i had realized that day that i didn't have confirmation from either of our headliners that they would be on the show since the other comic was the one that was in touch with them. (side note: from spending a lot of time at the club i see a lot of comics put on shows and i see a lot of them get really obsessed and really hound people about details - how many reservations they have, how much they're promoting, etc and i would always think "man, they should relax, i'm sure everything is going to work out" but now i know why they're like that... they're responsible for this entire event and a part of their reputation is riding on it) so i should have taken more responsibility from the beginning instead of assuming that any one else would be handling any part of it. also earlier in the day i received a call from the gentleman that fills in the back 30 minutes of a 90 minutes show saying that one of the comics was sick but had a friend in town  that he'd like to take his spot. and since this particular comic that was sick is influential in the club it's very silly to be unaccepting of any of his suggestions. so i arrive at the club, and give them the low-down that i didn't promote as much as i thought i would be able to and that i didn't know if the headliners would show up and that there was a last-minute substitution. The manager said that one of the headliners had called in and would be there and that there were some reservations for the show i didn't know about, so a little good news. once the doors open people show up slowly and ended up with about 40 people in the audience which is really small but more than i expected so thank you, jesus. a couple comics that were booked on the back end of the show were a little stressed and worrisome about it being a clean show and that some of the people i had invited from church which came across with low energy and i was frustrated that they were annoyed with it. another comedian that i was unfamiliar with showed up and many of the comics vouched for his reputation and asked if he could have stage time, which i complied with since one of the headliners never showed and since the friend of the sick comic never showed. so the fill-in took the stage then the headliner took the stage and about halfway through his set, the dude's friend arrives and i of course have to give him  stage time and stretch the show longer than it should go. we finally close the show and attempt a tip bucket which i don't know how good that idea was... so i don't think the club made much money and i didn't make much money and everyone left a little frustrated and annoyed. the next day i woke up completely sick with a  pounding headache, stuffed sinuses, aching body and nausea. i haven't been on stage or even to a comedy show since then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i haven't had much time for creating any art lately outside of the flyers for the shows i'm doing. now that we have our own place i have a lot of space to set up my easel and do some painting. i have space, but not time. comedy is very time consuming and now that i have the opportunity to spend time on my art i'd much rather develop those skills as it's so much more fulfilling. my buddy !b has been helping me out in both departments, comedy and design. and i feel like i'm disappointing him a bit by taking a break from the comedy but in reality at the end of the day i have to chase my own dreams, not someone else's. i'd much rather be an artist than a comedian. and though the pressure is still there for the approval of the public at least i can spend time improving my work and creating something i'm happy with before leaving my house... while in comedy we have to succeed and fail in front of an audience in order to improve. and although i'm no where near being a pro at either one i'd rather dedicate all of my free time into creating art. it's where my heart is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i really love the area that i live in right now and the small town atmosphere really reminds me a lot of life in siloam springs. a friend of mine lives right around the corner from me and we've been spending a lot of time hanging out together and helping each other move in to our apartments, walking to local restraunts and coffee shops. it really makes it feel like a real neighborhood having a great neighbor. and like i told her the other night, i feel like i'm being who i always wanted to be... and i'm allowing myself all these wonderful parts in life that i've always wanted to have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-3692660981979917372?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/3692660981979917372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=3692660981979917372&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/3692660981979917372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/3692660981979917372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/03/moving-right-along.html' title='moving right along'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-1268855995235234205</id><published>2010-03-17T06:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T07:56:48.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tonight</title><content type='html'>a month or two ago another comic and i chose st patrick's day to promote for the club. we decided to put on a clean show and invite a bunch of local churches. the only church that ended up getting the info was good old calvary. i also spent a ton of time sending messages to friends on facebook, texting pretty much everyone in my phone and putting ads on craigslist... to the avail of 30 reservations. i needed at least 200. i obviously have absolutely no idea how to promote. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the other comic and i met up last night to hand out the fliers i designed and printed. we went to berean, the christian book store across the street and i felt weird going in without buying anything... so i found the original jars of clay cd and while i was paying for it she asked if we could leave some fliers at the front. when we left she asked why we didn't just request to talk with a manager to begin with and i asked her why she didn't say something while we were in there and i was looking for that cd. she said that she's over all of this and wanted to just leave. i was too stressed about the show to give any pep talks so we went to denny's, left some fliers then went our separate ways. i handed out some fliers around my neighborhood but no one likes a salesman so i got a lot of up-turned noses. i left some fliers in the neighborhood coffee shop and went home to rearrange the living room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;our furniture is too big for the living room, by the way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm trying not to stress about the show tonight but i'm partially afraid that the club will say that it's not worth it to do a show with so few reservations, or that of my 30 that only 10 will actually show. all i can do is pray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i blasted the jars of clay cd my whole way home last night. it's so so so good. yes it is from like '95 and i listened to it in the 6th grade... but back then i couldn't appreciate it's perfection and i can see why jars of clay didn't put out any albums for so long after it. every single song is beautiful and packed with thoughtful instrumentation and lyrics. every single one of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-1268855995235234205?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/1268855995235234205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=1268855995235234205&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/1268855995235234205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/1268855995235234205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/03/tonight.html' title='tonight'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-7387707884324916469</id><published>2010-03-13T13:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T13:29:11.709-08:00</updated><title type='text'>promoting</title><content type='html'>so last night was interesting. being booked on a show at winston's definitely made me feel differently about the place. i used to feel intensely more awkward when it was just an open mic for me. staying for the whole show gives it a different feel. i handed out fliers all afternoon with kim before the show, which was an a new experience. it was really hard for me to reach out to people, even just to hand them a small piece of paper. also, i didn't see anyone that took a flier at the show. a bunch of my friends showed up though, that was awesome. and some of them brought friends too. i did fair, i think. i kept everyone's attention and got big laughs on the jokes that i believe in. some of my friends that were there haven't seen me on stage since my first couple times a year ago. back when i wasn't taking it seriously. they told me that they were really impressed with the amount of progress i've made which is really nice to hear. i also received some positive feedback from the dude that runs the room who, actually started with me way back when i wasn't serious about it... i don't think my friends even recognized him because of the amount that he's grown in the last year. he's a real pro now. &lt;br /&gt;my buddy !b  helped me design the fliers i was handing out, and since i've been showing off my skills more lately i've been getting a lot of attention in the designing department. soon !b and i along with some other team members will be forming project typo more. first line of business will be the development and creation or advertisements. i've also had a few requests for business cards from comics... which really challenges my creativity. business cards are very important. &lt;br /&gt;the new apartment is soooo lovely. a friend lives very close by so i've been spending a lot of time with her. i love the area we're in, it reminds me so much of life in arkansas. it's a small neighborhood with supermarket, coffee shop, bars and restaurants in walking distance. i love walking!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-7387707884324916469?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/7387707884324916469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=7387707884324916469&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7387707884324916469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7387707884324916469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/03/promoting.html' title='promoting'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-1857705827650034532</id><published>2010-03-06T12:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T12:03:34.169-08:00</updated><title type='text'>music</title><content type='html'>i hope one day i can create something as beautiful as an acoustic guitar playing on a dark cloudy day while palm trees swish and bend in the wind&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-1857705827650034532?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/1857705827650034532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=1857705827650034532&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/1857705827650034532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/1857705827650034532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/03/music.html' title='music'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-6586401269970844550</id><published>2010-02-27T11:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T13:35:03.862-08:00</updated><title type='text'>no such thing as luck</title><content type='html'>about two blocks away from the place i had my heart set on - we find an apartment complex with a vacancy and a landlord looking to fill the apartment immediately! gtg&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-6586401269970844550?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/6586401269970844550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=6586401269970844550&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6586401269970844550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6586401269970844550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/02/no-such-thing-as-luck.html' title='no such thing as luck'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-361543213058691392</id><published>2010-02-26T11:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T11:48:42.830-08:00</updated><title type='text'>now</title><content type='html'>it all comes back to choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am who i choose to be. if i'm not satisfied with that it's time to make some changes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there is only one instant and it's all of eternity and it's right now (wl). i can't keep putting things off because all i have is right now. with anything that i do - i will only be as good as the amount of time that i put into it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-361543213058691392?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/361543213058691392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=361543213058691392&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/361543213058691392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/361543213058691392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/02/now.html' title='now'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-4066581918145330872</id><published>2010-02-25T07:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T10:06:21.194-08:00</updated><title type='text'>glimmer</title><content type='html'>normally if i really get my heart set on something and pray and wish really hard for it... it falls through. and this week has been no exception. apartment hunting led me to the cutest little duplex i'd ever seen in south park. it felt like part of the shire with lush greenery surrounding it on the side of a canyon, and a neighborhood fire pit circled with lawn chairs. the first day i saw the ad on craigslist joe and i drove to the apartment and wandered around the outside of it and i loved it. calling the number on the listing immediately, they informed me that the tenant would be occupying the residence for another week and that they could put my name down to call when it was ready to view and i began holding my breath, daydreaming. monday i didn't hear anything so i decided on tuesday that i would call to start filling out an application, i didn't care what the inside looked like, i wanted that apartment. as soon as i got off work, i went to my car and called the rental agency. the apartment had been filled. i cried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in a way i guess i felt like that apartment was symbolic of who i want to be... of everything that i want... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that goes back also to a graphic design position that was being offered at the company i work for. in december i sent a resume and samples of my work. i kept checking on the career posting making sure that the position was still available and didn't hear anything from the hr department. eventually saw the position disappear from the open positions page and shortly after that a company email was sent out welcoming a new member to the creative department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;comedy, of course, has it's highs and lows... and i don't really talk about the highs much but i have had a couple of really good shows in the last couple months... but since feb 13th it's been mostly lows... not really able to get responses from the audience that i'm looking for, not really able to come up with very good new material, i'm just overall dissatisfied with myself. i'm the only one that can change it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this morning i was finally contacted by the hr department. she told me that she had received my resume and that i didn't have the experience that they were looking for. the candidate that they chose had a degree from RISD. she said, though, that they have a program, lynda, that offers tutorials for designs and adobe programs that they could give me access to for refining my skills outside of work. it's a pretty expensive set-up so i am really grateful for them offering that to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to go back to school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-4066581918145330872?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/4066581918145330872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=4066581918145330872&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4066581918145330872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4066581918145330872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/02/glimmer.html' title='glimmer'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-6892115452203679972</id><published>2010-02-20T13:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T14:03:19.341-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i hate it when i can't make everyone happy! i hate it when i can't make everyone like me! i hate being unhappy!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there's always going to be something to complain about, there's always going to be someone unhappy, there's always going to be someone that doesn't like me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the point is for me to be happy and satisfied with my decisions. for me to be confident, and commit to the decisions i make.  to be positive, constructive and grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and even though there's always going to be someone that doesn't like me, or is annoyed with me... i still need to be aware of how i'm treating people and i need to be less wrapped up in my own awkwardness. it's a little selfish to always be looking for something funny... it's a little selfish to be so self-conscious that i'm unaware of other people's feelings... everything is sort of a balancing game and it's interesting  how even nutrition plays a part in being mentally balanced. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'd like to be a more balanced individual... i wonder if the wii fit could help with that&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-6892115452203679972?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/6892115452203679972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=6892115452203679972&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6892115452203679972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6892115452203679972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-hate-it-when-i-cant-make-everyone.html' title=''/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-146324507362538482</id><published>2010-02-03T13:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T07:27:58.362-08:00</updated><title type='text'>annoying</title><content type='html'>when i first started doing comedy i had no idea what i was getting into, how many layers there are to this art or how many people flow through it. crowds can be pliable, they can be forgiving and they can be brutal. some crowds are so brutal they don't even realizing they're ruining the show. i guess that's a lesson that i'm going to have to learn as i continue... how to defend against the brutality. i'm not strong enough yet i think, i went retarded for a second last night and the encouraging voices of my friends from behind the stage lights kept me from retreating completely into the back of my mind. i will not be demeaned, right? i will not be yelled at? yes i have a lot to learn. i don't want to become jaded... i don't want to ever think 'fuck you it's funny' when a crowd doesn't laugh. but i do need to figure out my own style of gently yet firmly reminding the audience that they are the audience and not the entertainment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there are so many different personalities to deal with in this business! it seems that naturally in an organized environment things will get very political. why can't we all just strive to be decent human beings and respect each other? nothing is more frustrating when people can't see outside of their own point of view. try putting yourself in someone else's shoes for a while, people of earth! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have been getting booked on more shows which is pretty awesome. a couple are stage time in return for making flyers because i'm a  pro at that. but a few are just people asking me to be a part of them. i can see why more of my friends haven't asked me to be on their shows as week to week i'm inconsistent comdedicly.  i definitely need more stage time to develop more. gah! such a cycle! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one of my biggest fears is being considered an annoying person... and i try really hard to be considerate, helpful, constructive and positive...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-146324507362538482?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/146324507362538482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=146324507362538482&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/146324507362538482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/146324507362538482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/02/annoying.html' title='annoying'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-7504124128358917967</id><published>2010-01-21T06:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T07:01:09.881-08:00</updated><title type='text'>nope</title><content type='html'>i will not be a victim. i will not be abused. i will not be threatened. i will not be bullied. i will not be screamed at. i will not be unappreciated. i will not be taken advantage of. i will not be demeaned. i will not be an object. i will not be a tool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i will not stand for it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-7504124128358917967?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/7504124128358917967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=7504124128358917967&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7504124128358917967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7504124128358917967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2010/01/nope.html' title='nope'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-8930836558438312596</id><published>2009-11-21T17:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T18:30:51.928-08:00</updated><title type='text'>10 honest things</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://backyardhomesteader.blogspot.com/"&gt;dorothy&lt;/a&gt; has nominated me for the 10 honest things list :) i don't know if mine will be as good though... i can't think of anything as brutally honest as liking the twilight series ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. today i spilled a little coffee on my jeans, then realized that i've been wearing the same pair of pants the last three days... and have kept wearing them because i hadn't spilled anything on them... time to wash&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. i get really bad heartburn when it's "that time" of the month... which makes me sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. choices are really hard for me to make... from what to eat to what career move i want to make... i think part of that is my lack of confidence that i will be good at whatever i choose... it's my illogical fear of regret that causes this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. ^ i just realized that as i was typing it... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. i like hummus a lot. i don't think joseph has ever tried it but he refuses to let me get it at the grocery store... now it's kind of a joke and one time we had like a five minute interchange where i was trying to put it in the cart and he was treating me like ceasar milan trains dogs... it entertained a couple people in the grocery store at the time... but i've still not had any hummus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. my hats are cute... but sometimes i'm only wearing it because i don't want to brush my hair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. wishing is a waste of time... chasing dreams with action is not...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. being happy with my choices in life makes everything so much easier... as does realizing that what's meant to happen WILL HAPPEN but i still have to do my part to get it there... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. i'm pretty sure i've seen every episode of america's next top model... and i don't say that proudly... just honestly... and i think it's a bit worse than dorothy's admition about twilight because nothing about top model reminds me of how much god loves me. it does, however, ispire me in some ways like making useful art that tells a story, to not be boring (impossible, right? you'd think) it's also inspiring as a comic, to be aware of myself and what i'm doing... granted i am NOT aware of everything i'm doing while i'm on stage but it would be really helpful if i were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. i, actually really really like my life right now. no, i'm not happy with every single part of my life, but for the most part i am having a great time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't think 7 people even read my blog so the following people should do the same 10 honest things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;molly&lt;br /&gt;sharon&lt;br /&gt;melody&lt;br /&gt;jenny?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-8930836558438312596?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/8930836558438312596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=8930836558438312596&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/8930836558438312596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/8930836558438312596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/11/10-honest-things.html' title='10 honest things'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-3258045270315984675</id><published>2009-11-16T16:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T17:05:08.179-08:00</updated><title type='text'>good night, blarney stone</title><content type='html'>last night was the last night for comedy at the blarney... and i'm pretty disappointed that i never got to experience the character-testing audience. the blarney was well known for having harsh audiences, hecklers and talkers. a lot of comics showed up last night... and i think knowing that this was a "last show" somewhere was what drew a lot in... we all needed some sort of closure, i think. a funeral of sorts for the three places that shut down comedy last week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-3258045270315984675?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/3258045270315984675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=3258045270315984675&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/3258045270315984675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/3258045270315984675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/11/good-night-blarney-stone.html' title='good night, blarney stone'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-3545062949057579775</id><published>2009-11-12T11:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T11:55:59.724-08:00</updated><title type='text'>holy smokes</title><content type='html'>tuesday we found out that mad house would be closing indefinitely. there were a lot of phone calls, a lot of text messages and a lot of facebook statuses giving kinda different information as to what was really going on but bottom line was that there will be no shows until further notice. we're still really hopeful that it'll be soon but at the longest mad house will be back in business in six months. its crazy that it's only been open near 90 days and has changed so many people's lives... jessica and i were talking about it last night... that we don't want to go back to those silly lives that we had before the club. for me, the club gave my comedy purpose, inspired me and grew me... but i'm not done growing yet either. i'm just getting started, my hunger just began, i just became addicted. we also found out yesterday that the blarney stone will not be doing comedy after this sunday and that dirtbag has put a stop on all comedy plans. they had a show lined up for this saturday that they now will not be doing. that's three comedy venues gone in the past two days. it's like i just became addicted to crack and the world is all the sudden running out of crack. kim is putting an awesome plan into affect... she's starting to round up all the comics and we're going to hit up every open mic out there, and show these places, the world, ourselves that there is a market for comedy. it's possible that we, as comics, needed this as a wake up call. we need to stop san diego from becoming a one-comedy-club-town(did i use those hyphens correctly?). the sad thing, i think, is that  even if there were only one comedy club in san diego most of the public would never know the difference. we need to change that...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-3545062949057579775?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/3545062949057579775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=3545062949057579775&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/3545062949057579775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/3545062949057579775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/11/holy-smokes.html' title='holy smokes'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-4078293888196161904</id><published>2009-11-10T13:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T14:21:57.765-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='graphic design'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='comedy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stand-up'/><title type='text'>stand up and design</title><content type='html'>i've been doing stand-up more often lately... i'm completely addicted. i don't think it really hit me until last friday when i had to finagle my way out of work early, sit in about an hour of traffic to go home and get joe then another 30 minutes or so of traffic, park about 1/2 a mile away and walk to the bar to get on stage for 3 minutes. luckily i've made friends at the place too because if not there'd be no way i'd be get on stage after the amount of people that had to wait to get on the list. yesterday, my regular monday spot, mad house, was closed for the evening so instead i went to lestats in normal heights. it was my first time going there to get on stage and i ended up being too late for the raffle. one friend offered me his spot since he had been on that stage before but the guy running the room said that he couldn't do that and would have to give his spot to the first alternate... i ended up being the 20th alternate. i like that i was able to get on at winstons and that my friend offered me his spot at lestats... i do wonder about those things though... do they do it because they genuinely think i'm funny and deserve the time? or because we're all in it together and helping each other out along the way? or maybe it's some instinctual chivalry because i'm a lady. i guess the real reason does not matter because they wouldn't do things like that if i was so unfunny i'd ruin a show. plus i like my jokes and find them humorous. i do need more practice though. every opportunity i get to be on stage i will take it. bummer that tuesday night is usually a madhouse night and they're closed again. gar! i need some stage time quick. maybe i'll find somewhere that's doing karaoke, put on a slow song and just tell my jokes instead of singing. i wonder how well that would go? it'd definitely be more entertaining than listening to someone sing... maybe if i sang between verses... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in other news i've been busy with graphic design lately as well. making things for mad house, some comics, the highwire pirates and lyralicious. plus my day job and waitressing the mad house on weekends, i'm busy busy busy. never TOO busy though. making sure i get at least 6 hours of sleep so that i maintain functionality. and i never feel like i'm in over my head with places to go and things to do... kinda anxious that i can't do more. joe got me a talet the other day as an early christmas gift which i'm STOKED about. for a long time i did expect that having a tablet would sonlve all my problems because i've wanted one for so long... so i'm learning that i still have a lot to learn in every aspect of life...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-4078293888196161904?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/4078293888196161904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=4078293888196161904&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4078293888196161904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4078293888196161904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/11/stand-up-and-design.html' title='stand up and design'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-7141042572752865100</id><published>2009-09-17T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T12:05:36.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>introspect</title><content type='html'>love is a choice, a decision, a commitment. it's our choices and decisions in life that define who we are, not our experiences, pains or family. the only reason that anyone does anything in life is because they want to. positive or negative. i remember falling in love with my husband... and i remember doing it on purpose, not by accident. it didn't just happen on it's own, i let it happen. i remember being in tragic circumstances and letting myself be depressed. those were experiences that i have never felt before and i reveled in it, going deeper and darker hurting myself and everyone around me. it also didn't take more than a few months for me to realize the pain i was causing to everyone around me and that life is nothing without beauty, strength and love. i've experienced a lot of sadness and terrible experiences since that initial one and each time i make a conscious decision to not let that define me... to not sit in the pool of dark emotion that accompanies tragedy. every decision i've made in life has made me who i am today including the decision to let God lead me. there's a really strange thought pervading society that "yourself" is someone out there that needs to be "found." i have no idea where this comes from but i do know that it causes people to stop taking responsibility for their actions and emotions. actions more than emotions because even though we can't control how we feel all the time we CAN control EVERYTHING that we do. always. everything that a person does is because they want to. no other reason. we only do what we want. "well i do things sometimes that i don't want to do but i need to so i do them anyway" then the part of you that needs it is the part that wants it and that's why you do it. "i don't want to pay my bills but i do anyway" that's because you want to stay out of debt. "i don't want to get out of bed every day but i do" that's because you want to keep your job. and it's even those small decisions in life that makes us who we are, having character and reliability, being responsible and making priorities. sometimes it takes being irresponsible to realize that it's not what you want. sometimes people realize that they don't want to be responsible ever and they usually end up jobless and homeless and on drugs or alcohol because it's fun so that becomes their priority. there are things in life that happen out of our control but it's how we act and what we do that defines us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haven't figured out if this is really the way i feel but i used to tell myself "God is love and love is the only reason to live." i'll have to think on that one some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-7141042572752865100?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/7141042572752865100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=7141042572752865100&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7141042572752865100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7141042572752865100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/09/introspect.html' title='introspect'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-4787500169876481231</id><published>2009-08-01T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T12:23:56.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yeah 24!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rW6fYE7xXMA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rW6fYE7xXMA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JMLH_QyPTYM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JMLH_QyPTYM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-4787500169876481231?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/4787500169876481231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=4787500169876481231&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4787500169876481231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4787500169876481231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/08/yeah-24.html' title='yeah 24!'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-8564106591955396664</id><published>2009-07-28T14:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T14:41:31.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>life is a day that doesn't last for long</title><content type='html'>i came across a switchfoot song today that brought back some memories. it's from the album 'meant to live' that came out the year i graduated high school. a lot happened that summer, graduating and leaving my high school friends, dorothy getting married and moving away, starting college. it's amazing how far we've all come since then now as molly is planning her wedding too... and kind of funny to me how much i've matured and how more more i still have to grow. but it's fun to go back to those times in my thoughts, and this song brings back memories especially of sharon and how obsessed with this switchfoot album we were. this wasn't even our favorite song from it but we'd dance around, singing along. what i like about it also is the romanticism that we delved so much into it 12th grade literature class. i'm at work and keep getting distracted, so i'm going to end it here. here's a video of the song. fyi... the lyrics on this video are incorrect with improper punctuation. i didn't make it :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YISE0wk9XbY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YISE0wk9XbY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-8564106591955396664?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/8564106591955396664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=8564106591955396664&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/8564106591955396664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/8564106591955396664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/07/life-is-day-that-doesnt-last-for-long.html' title='life is a day that doesn&apos;t last for long'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-6454569041708356980</id><published>2009-06-23T15:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T15:40:49.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'>childhood moments</title><content type='html'>a couple amusing moments from my childhood that i remembered today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in first grade i was bragging to one of melody's friends about how good i was at reading. she showed me one of her spelling words and asked me if i knew what it said... i said "cigar" but it was "sugar"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in kindergarten when asking what i wanted to be when i grew up i answered "vegetarian" when i meant "veterinarian"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in first grade we were at an open house for melody's class and i was cold so i put my jacket on... it took me a little while with my little arms but eventually got them into the sleeves. when i finished i looked up and the adults were all smiling at me. i thought that they were just impressed that i could put my jacket on myself but it turns out that i put my jacket on upside down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's kinda fun having those memories of being so small and how big everything used to be back then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-6454569041708356980?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/6454569041708356980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=6454569041708356980&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6454569041708356980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6454569041708356980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/06/childhood-moments.html' title='childhood moments'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-2800682732602558938</id><published>2009-06-17T14:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T18:45:11.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>make 'm laugh</title><content type='html'>joseph and i have begun to permeate the local stand-up comedy scene here in san diego. joseph has been having a little more than moderate success at consistently inventing new jokes while improving on his favorites. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have a couple jokes that entertain folks from time to time. the first couple times i went on stage it went pretty awesome. people laughed and applauded. this most recent time i tried my set on a completely new audience and it went terribly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after tuesday's set it really made me reconsider ever going on stage again. i tell everyone the funniest stuff i've ever thought of and get nothing in response. besides maybe a chuckle or two in the back. i don't want to be the one that people feel sorry for or think "who told her she's funny?" i sat in the back for a little while thinking about the set, trying to figure out what went wrong and wishing that someone would just tell me that i'm not right for comedy. if i'm not entertaining anyone what's the point? i watched the rest of the show, some comics worked the crowd well, others did just as bad as i did. right before we left one of the best local comediennes in the area stopped me. she said she loved one of my jokes and asked me why i don't go on stage at more venues then gave me advice on where to go. i felt so flattered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess i'm not really trying to be a comic but joseph is. and he's way better at it and actually has professional material. i go with him to the shows and since i'm there and i have a couple jokes that can make 'm laugh sometimes so i may as well tell my jokes and refine my act. it's not going to be easy every time. and if nothing else, knowing what it's like at the mic will help me be more supportive of joesph. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one comic made a really good point: doing stand-up is like learning to play the guitar but you can only practice for a few minutes at a time and you can only practice in front of an audience. it's rough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-2800682732602558938?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/2800682732602558938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=2800682732602558938&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/2800682732602558938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/2800682732602558938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/06/make-m-laugh.html' title='make &apos;m laugh'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-8316758820892635782</id><published>2009-05-09T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T12:02:55.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>genevieve alyssa lopez</title><content type='html'>I HAVE A NIECE &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND I AM IN LOVE WITH HER!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src ="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/001waitingroomdad.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/002waitingroomjoseph.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/003waitingroomitsagirl.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/004waitingroomyaaay.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/005waitingroomhappygpa.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/006waitingroomrachanddad.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/008happybaby.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/009weighbaby.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/0107lb2oz.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/011happyfamily.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/013beautifulbaby.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/014beautifulbaby.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/BornUnderBlueMoon/015babyfoot.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-8316758820892635782?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/8316758820892635782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=8316758820892635782&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/8316758820892635782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/8316758820892635782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-have-niece-and-i-am-in-love-with-her.html' title='genevieve alyssa lopez'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-4826959451683445762</id><published>2009-04-15T11:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T11:21:01.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>post secret</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.postsecret.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 210px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a7jkcMVp5Vg/SeFDb7eX62I/AAAAAAAAIo4/2lF-IxooLfg/s1600/yellow.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i read the new &lt;a href="http://postsecret.com"&gt;post secret&lt;/a&gt;s every week and this one really exeplifies my current mindset. things have been going pretty smooth lately and i haven't really been letting anything get me down. last night my car broke down on my way home from work... and i'm having to consciously not overreact. i can't let this get me down either! that peice of metal has been trying to get me down for a while now... life is still good! now i get to enjoy a scenic bus ride home with opportunities of interacting with folks on my way home. and possibly practice some karate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-4826959451683445762?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/4826959451683445762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=4826959451683445762&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4826959451683445762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4826959451683445762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/04/post-secret.html' title='post secret'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a7jkcMVp5Vg/SeFDb7eX62I/AAAAAAAAIo4/2lF-IxooLfg/s72-c/yellow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-6397506851688902219</id><published>2009-03-26T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T15:14:36.404-07:00</updated><title type='text'>life is beautiful</title><content type='html'>the last couple days have been gorgeous! even though i only get to enjoy them on my breaks at work i do enjoy them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;life is a wonderful gift. circustances don't always make sense to me. sometimes i do things that don't make sense to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but life is a gift. it is beautiful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-6397506851688902219?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/6397506851688902219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=6397506851688902219&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6397506851688902219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6397506851688902219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/03/life-is-beautiful.html' title='life is beautiful'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-6401093842949792840</id><published>2009-03-20T23:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T00:53:59.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>chatter</title><content type='html'>&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.99chats.com/chat.swf?r=3437" width="400" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.99chats.com/chat.swf?r=3437" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.99chats.com/chat.swf?r=3437" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="325" height="280" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.99chats.com/"&gt;Chats&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-6401093842949792840?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/6401093842949792840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=6401093842949792840&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6401093842949792840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6401093842949792840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/03/chatter.html' title='chatter'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-4945192128342770829</id><published>2009-03-06T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T11:01:10.108-08:00</updated><title type='text'>dear people of earth,</title><content type='html'>do not ask me "what's wrong?" when i first wake up in the morning. i'm not sleeping anymore. that's what's friggin wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love,&lt;br /&gt;rachael&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-4945192128342770829?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/4945192128342770829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=4945192128342770829&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4945192128342770829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/4945192128342770829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/03/dear-people-of-earth.html' title='dear people of earth,'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-871610656443025378</id><published>2009-02-27T22:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T22:17:40.392-08:00</updated><title type='text'>quantum mechanics</title><content type='html'>joseph and i watched a show on the history channel a few days ago about lightspeed. there were some interesting topics that were discussed within the topic of lightspeed including spacetime which brought up a lot of questions in my mind. when i have time at work i've been trying to read up on spacetime to have a better understanding of our universe and the way it works. having loved book &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;the time machine&lt;/span&gt; in high school i was able to understand some of what i read. i'm trying really hard to understand this more but without having much knowledge about general relativity it's more difficult than i thought. it's also really interesting to me how much theory is involved and how little of it is proven fact.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-871610656443025378?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/871610656443025378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=871610656443025378&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/871610656443025378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/871610656443025378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/02/quantum-mechanics.html' title='quantum mechanics'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-5890325448211589540</id><published>2009-02-20T11:14:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T11:14:57.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'>so this is the new year</title><content type='html'>i wish the world was flat like the old days&lt;br /&gt;then i could travel just by folding a map&lt;br /&gt;no more airplanes, or speedtrains, or freeways&lt;br /&gt;there'd be no distance that can hold us back&lt;br /&gt;-death cab&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-5890325448211589540?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/5890325448211589540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=5890325448211589540&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/5890325448211589540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/5890325448211589540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/02/so-this-is-new-year.html' title='so this is the new year'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-9987880785552145</id><published>2009-02-19T16:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T16:25:22.295-08:00</updated><title type='text'>artsy film</title><content type='html'>the other night joseph and i were playing with a cheap video camera i won from work last year. we decided to make artistic short films.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this one is his...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQt5ZFkcVJc"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQt5ZFkcVJc&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-9987880785552145?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/9987880785552145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=9987880785552145&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/9987880785552145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/9987880785552145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/02/artsy-film.html' title='artsy film'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-3289738683776760842</id><published>2009-02-11T10:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T11:01:36.151-08:00</updated><title type='text'>curry</title><content type='html'>one of the only things i do not like the smell or taste of is curry. and it's not like i just don't like it... i pretty much disdain it. someone sitting near me in our office is eating a curry dish right now and i'm trying really hard to not let it ruin my day. the smell is so freaking pungent... it's actually giving me a headache.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-3289738683776760842?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/3289738683776760842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=3289738683776760842&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/3289738683776760842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/3289738683776760842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/02/curry.html' title='curry'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-6743381982664284103</id><published>2009-02-06T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T15:10:16.121-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a poem</title><content type='html'>for the last couple days i've had a few words stuck in my head... it started off with just the words dregs and wormwood and i knew it was from a poem. i began to remember a few more words here and there like fount, perpetual, spring. so i put the words i could remember into google and viola! there it was! it's called childe harold's pilgrimage by george byron. it was a portion of this poem that dorothy and i memorized while eating cocoa popcorn in arkansas four years ago. i love remembering moments like this. everything about that night became so vivid after reading that poem. the way the room looked, the slight chill in the air, hawthorne curled up in my lap and the comforting scent of the house. it's moments like that one that make me realize there's a part of me that never left arkansas although so much has changed in the past four years. if i could i'd fly out this weekend. anyway, here's the portion of the poem:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His had been quaffed too quickly, and he found&lt;br /&gt;The dregs were wormwood; but he filled again,&lt;br /&gt;And from a purer fount, on holier ground,&lt;br /&gt;And deemed its spring perpetual; but in vain!&lt;br /&gt;Still round him clung invisibly a chain&lt;br /&gt;Which galled for ever, fettering though unseen,&lt;br /&gt;And heavy though it clanked not; worn with pain,&lt;br /&gt;Which pined although it spoke not, and grew keen,&lt;br /&gt;Entering with every step he took through many a scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in other news, i'm thinking of turning this blog into a photo journal. now that i have a laptop (yay!) i'll have a way to organize and photoshop (yay!) my pictures the way i used to. might be fun. but if it does happen it'll probably be another week or so because i have a few business cards and postcards to finish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-6743381982664284103?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/6743381982664284103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=6743381982664284103&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6743381982664284103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/6743381982664284103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/02/poem.html' title='a poem'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-2759791206497799785</id><published>2009-01-30T17:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T17:47:13.602-08:00</updated><title type='text'>stuck?</title><content type='html'>life sometimes feels like there's something stuck in it's spokes, keeping it from rolling forward the way i think it should. what i have to remind myself is that there's never a time when no one is in control and that if i focus too much on what's NOT happening i miss all the awesome things that ARE happening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm surrounded by a group of very supportive and loving people. even those that are not physically close are near my soul. i love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-2759791206497799785?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/2759791206497799785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=2759791206497799785&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/2759791206497799785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/2759791206497799785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/01/stuck.html' title='stuck?'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-7723432310940138877</id><published>2009-01-21T16:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T17:28:42.047-08:00</updated><title type='text'>vocabulary - falderal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;sometimes, bored at work, i'll scroll through dictionary.com. this afternoon i've found my work of the day. I'm going to try to use it sometime today... i might try out "gew-gaw" too... we'll see &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; fal-de-ral&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;b&gt;fal&lt;/b&gt;-&lt;i&gt;duh&lt;/i&gt;-ral] &lt;br /&gt;–noun 1. mere nonsense; foolish talk or ideas. &lt;br /&gt;2. a trifle; gimcrack; gew-gaw. &lt;br /&gt;Also, folderol. &lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Origin: &lt;br /&gt;1695–1705; orig. as a nonsense refrain in songs; of obscure orig.&lt;br /&gt;Dictionary.com Unabridged&lt;br /&gt;Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2009.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-7723432310940138877?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/7723432310940138877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=7723432310940138877&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7723432310940138877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7723432310940138877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/01/vocabulary-falderal.html' title='vocabulary - falderal'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878553377099230472.post-7017321428896840114</id><published>2009-01-20T12:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T13:23:27.020-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='why'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>throw a stone as high as you can</title><content type='html'>over the past year or so i've slowly built walls in my mind, created by routine, stress and heartache. by going through the same motions i don't allow myself to break from what i want to be "normal." by stressing about work, money and what people are thinking about me i don't allow myself to fully appriciate every day experiences. by holding on to heartache, opposed to moving on from it, i keep myself from being completely open to love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the only thing keeping me from doing anything is myself. i'm the only one at fault for trapping my mind and thoughts... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but these walls were never really there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/y2c6g6eG1mQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/y2c6g6eG1mQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"the escapist"&lt;/i&gt; - the streets&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6878553377099230472-7017321428896840114?l=thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/feeds/7017321428896840114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6878553377099230472&amp;postID=7017321428896840114&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7017321428896840114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6878553377099230472/posts/default/7017321428896840114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestoryoccurs.blogspot.com/2009/01/faith-is-everything.html' title='throw a stone as high as you can'/><author><name>raedae</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08722100280659296984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Lt9rb5LfBs/SXe86hO8tuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/L-ggG5nFG1A/S220/111107RachnMelsmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
