<?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-8865739101820514288</id><updated>2012-02-16T01:30:23.161-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My life: The Circus without the Clown</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>126</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-7864074083843350717</id><published>2010-08-27T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T20:07:31.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>some company</title><content type='html'>what would you say if you found out today would really be your last would you try to bargain with god would you take the chance grab hold of the hands of your family and friends tell them all just what they meant would you know what to say would you know what to do when they stared at you wide-eyed and laughing saying hey are you crazy man i don’t have time for this c’mon i’m gonna miss my favorite show lately i find nobody’s got the time to even say hello it’s nice to see you but i gotta go just want to find someone not always on the run who’ll sit down for a while remember what it’s like to smile well now i’ m heading south gonna learn to shut my mouth and listen to the people and their places and their stories before i turn to judge then i will see the crutch i’ve been leaning on far too long gotta learn to stand on my own and i’ll be the first to admit i don’t know exactly how to slow down like a neverending song but it won’t be long till i’m counting every breath and every heartbeat would you like to join me i sure could use some company just the other day went walking with a friend in downtown boston where we saw a homeless man begging for spare change just trying to feed his kids when i bent down to give a dime my friend just shook his head c’mon skott don’t you know this guy’s just gonna go get himself all liquored up spent the night drinking away well i just don’t buy that line ‘sides for me it’s just a dime and what about the chance that this money makes it home that’s a truth some people never want to know well i know what i’d say if i found out today would really be my last i wouldn’t bargain with god i would walk the streets tell everyone i meet that i love them and i know that they could be anything they want anything they dream all it takes is a dream to send you flying and all i want now is to renounce who i’ve been in hopes that i’ll become a better person god knows we all could be one&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-7864074083843350717?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/7864074083843350717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=7864074083843350717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7864074083843350717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7864074083843350717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2010/08/some-company.html' title='some company'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3630806597074762788</id><published>2010-07-30T10:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T10:11:44.191-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Giving it all.....</title><content type='html'>So, i got some news from home on Wednesday. I am still stunned, and cant seem to shake it.  A guy I knew for years, hung out with, went on a date or several with, got killed while responding to a Domestic Disturbance.  He left behind 2 small children. I know that peole who get into Law Enforcement do the best they can to protect everyone else. I have considered it more than once, and was considering it recently. This is making me change my mind. My dad said it best: "If you join a PD, there will not be a day that goes by that I will not worry about you." I dont have kids or a spouse, so I felt for years that I would enjoy being a police officer.  I applied wiht the Highway Patrol, (knee wasnt happy and kept me out.)  I know how it feels to lose someone close to you at this kind of sacrafice, but I am one of the few people willing to take that chance. I have been trying for 3 years to get enlisted inthe National Guard. My knee keeps preventing that. I cant figure it out, but for some reason, I really want to join now, and avenge all this craziness. I know thats not a solution and never would be. However, we were always told, that Everybody is gonna give something, but some of us were gonna give it all.  I am sure some of you would be disappointed in a decison to Enlist and spend the next 4 years tied down, but as soon as the knee is healed and I can run 2 miles again, I am gonna resign the papers.   The only thing I can do while I ma here is protect the people I love, and give everything I can. Thats what I fully intend to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3630806597074762788?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3630806597074762788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3630806597074762788' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3630806597074762788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3630806597074762788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2010/07/giving-it-all.html' title='Giving it all.....'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3258558232659064954</id><published>2009-12-22T14:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T14:28:09.505-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Adoption</title><content type='html'>I see so many celeberties adopting children from other countries.  My question is why?  There are so many kids here in America that need to be adopted.  Anyone who adopts a child is willing to give their all, heart and soul to a child. I know this firsthand.&lt;br /&gt;I see pictures of celeberties with thier kids that they have adopted and thats wonderful, they are a happy family.  The kids may not look like them at all, but as a coiety we have taken a liking to these familes.&lt;br /&gt;I am not downing celeberties who adopt at all. If anything I of ALL PEOPLE should accept it.  I would just like to see a celeberty adopt a child from America.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3258558232659064954?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3258558232659064954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3258558232659064954' title='32 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3258558232659064954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3258558232659064954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/12/adoption.html' title='Adoption'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>32</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8459079615191492158</id><published>2009-12-09T12:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T12:32:36.882-08:00</updated><title type='text'>starting over</title><content type='html'>So I have too much to do between now and feb 15th. I have to get 4 background checks at 25 bucks a piece. looks like my app packet will go in on the last day better late than never I guess. I am getting up the nerve to go back to school.  To start over, to get a degree that i WILL use.  Its looking like nursing or occuptional therapy or radiology.  Its just a matter of getting my college loan outta default so I can go back. I am working on that hard, pinching pennies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8459079615191492158?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8459079615191492158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8459079615191492158' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8459079615191492158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8459079615191492158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/12/starting-over.html' title='starting over'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-2619014983343893285</id><published>2009-12-02T06:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T06:14:58.181-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>So, I guess I should update on my Thanksgiving adventures.&lt;br /&gt;I left work Wednesday and drove to Pitt County.  I arrived about 9pm.  Dad and I went to IHOP, its a tradition when I go home now.  I was so tired after working all day, and then driving 3 hours, soI crashed soon after that.&lt;br /&gt;Thursday morning, I got up and did my morning routine, bowl of Cheerios, complaining it to early, etc.  We had to be at my Aunt Carol Ann's house at Noon.  We left our house and went up ot hers to eat lunch, I got to see all my cousins, everyone.  I even met OOPS for the first time.  You may be asking who OOPS is.  He is my cousin from my Uncles second marriage, to a girl from the Phillipenes.  His name isnt OOPS, its William Walter Gaskins II.  Hes named after my Great Grandfather.  We were all questioning paternity, because the baby doesnt look like a Gaskins at all, but I digress.&lt;br /&gt;We left there and went home and relaxed until we had to go back at 6pm for dinner, there was enough food for a small army! &lt;br /&gt;Friday: There was NO WAY I was gonna go shopping on Black Friday. I worked retail for several years, and I know the chaos, I will wait a couple weeks.  So, I went Deer hunting.  Did I see a deer? NO. &lt;br /&gt;Saturday: Same as Friday, Deer hunting. I saw no deer tho.&lt;br /&gt;Sunday: I went to lunch with dad at Cracker Barrel.  I left about 3 to start the journey back. I stoped in Burlington at Buffalo Wild Wings to meet Dawn and the kids.  We were there til about 8pm, watched the Carolina game.  (I am not a Carolina fan!)  The funniest moment was wen I was walking thru the resturant to go to the restroom and I look up and there is my ex, whom I havent seen in years, because she is too good to talk to me now.  She looked up at me, then looked down. I saw her girlfriend say something to her, and i just laughed. When I got to my house, there was a Christmas tree, that aparently my roommates got out of a junkyard. (Dont ask). &lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-2619014983343893285?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/2619014983343893285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=2619014983343893285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2619014983343893285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2619014983343893285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/12/thanksgiving.html' title='Thanksgiving'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5605825943074293344</id><published>2009-11-18T12:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T12:51:40.984-08:00</updated><title type='text'>decisons</title><content type='html'>So,I have decided that I want a family.  if I have to do it alone, so be it. If I am not in a permament relationship by the time I am 35, then I am gonna either adopt or use a surrogate.  I think Id make a pretty good parent.  I know itwill be tough, but if i have to do it alone, so be it.&lt;br /&gt;Ok, sorry for the ramble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5605825943074293344?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5605825943074293344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5605825943074293344' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5605825943074293344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5605825943074293344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/11/decisons.html' title='decisons'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5192647817287067121</id><published>2009-11-10T06:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T12:53:32.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>speaking</title><content type='html'>I remember 2001-2004 being the roughest years of my life to date. I was dating someone who apparently thought I was completly incompetent. I remember her saying to me.."do you hear the shit you say? its all dumb shit." it made sense in my head. I remember I didnt talk to anyone for a long time after that happened. A long time. I do stutter, and i put words in the wrong place in sentences. I am excepting that yes I stutter on occasion, and sometimes I am a complete idiot.  Ya'll gotta deal with it tho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5192647817287067121?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5192647817287067121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5192647817287067121' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5192647817287067121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5192647817287067121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/11/speaking.html' title='speaking'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8028159154841274163</id><published>2009-11-03T12:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T12:27:15.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>History in the making</title><content type='html'>Don’t move Baby Don’t move&lt;br /&gt;Awww look at you&lt;br /&gt;I just want to take this in&lt;br /&gt;The moonlight dancing off your skin&lt;br /&gt;Our time Lets take our time&lt;br /&gt;I just want to look in your eyes and catch my breath&lt;br /&gt;Cause I just got a feeling&lt;br /&gt;This could be one of those memories&lt;br /&gt;We want to hold on to, cling to, one we can’t forget&lt;br /&gt;Baby, this could be our last first kiss&lt;br /&gt;The door to forever&lt;br /&gt;What if this was that moment&lt;br /&gt;That chance worth taking&lt;br /&gt;History in the making&lt;br /&gt;Inside, baby inside&lt;br /&gt;Can you feel the butterflies?&lt;br /&gt;Floating all around&lt;br /&gt;Cause I can sure feel them now&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, maybe tonight&lt;br /&gt;Is a start of a beautiful ride that will never end&lt;br /&gt;And baby I’ve got a feeling&lt;br /&gt;This could be one of those memories&lt;br /&gt;We want to hold on to, cling to, One we can’t forget&lt;br /&gt;Baby, this could be our last first kiss&lt;br /&gt;The door to forever&lt;br /&gt;What if this was that moment&lt;br /&gt;That chance worth taking&lt;br /&gt;History in the making&lt;br /&gt;Right here, right now&lt;br /&gt;Holding you in my arms&lt;br /&gt;This could be one of those memories&lt;br /&gt;We want to hold on to, we want to cling to, One that we can’t forget&lt;br /&gt;Baby, this could be our last first kiss&lt;br /&gt;The door to forever&lt;br /&gt;What if this was that moment&lt;br /&gt;That chance worth taking&lt;br /&gt;History in the making&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8028159154841274163?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8028159154841274163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8028159154841274163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8028159154841274163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8028159154841274163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/11/history-in-making.html' title='History in the making'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-1718746813176124316</id><published>2009-10-16T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T13:25:20.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>new things</title><content type='html'>So, I got a text on Monday morning, that my Cousin was on the way to the hospital to give birth to her third child.  We knew it was gonna be a girl.  Madelyn Christine,  7 pounds 7 ounces.  21 inches long.  I saw a picture of her and had tears in my eyes.  Family is the most important thing in my life.  I wish I could have been there for the birth.  I looked at a friend of mine and said, the third good reason for me to keep trying to get in the Army was just born.  I know I am nothing but a cousin to her and her brothers, but I fully intend to give everything I can to them.  If I am successful in getting into the Army, then I will be defending a country that I love. I am doing it for them more than anything. I want them to grow up in a safe enviroment.  A place that they will always feel safe, and when they go to sleep at night, know that they are being protected.  I have accepted that if I am sucessful in joining the Army, there is the real possibility that I will go overseas and fight.  There is also, a chance that i may not come home when I go overseas.  If I dont come back, at least they will know that I have counted up the cost, and know the sacrifice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-1718746813176124316?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/1718746813176124316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=1718746813176124316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1718746813176124316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1718746813176124316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/10/new-things.html' title='new things'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6086908440899998076</id><published>2009-10-06T11:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T11:43:56.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I should be sleeping</title><content type='html'>I never knew there were such great movies&lt;br /&gt;On TV at 3 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;I'd never guessed at a midnight Tuesday&lt;br /&gt;I could have pizza ordered in&lt;br /&gt;I've never been a real night-owl&lt;br /&gt;But these days I'm all turned 'round&lt;br /&gt;There's only one thing I'm sure of right now&lt;br /&gt;I should be sleeping,&lt;br /&gt;'stead of keeping&lt;br /&gt;These late hours I've been keeping&lt;br /&gt;I've been pacing and retracing&lt;br /&gt;Every step of every move&lt;br /&gt;An even though I'm feeling so right&lt;br /&gt;I'm so happy,still I knowI should be sleeping,&lt;br /&gt;'stead of dreamin' about you&lt;br /&gt;I never knew I was funny&lt;br /&gt;'Til I went and made you laugh&lt;br /&gt;I never liked a girl that called me: "Honey"&lt;br /&gt;But you did,I like that&lt;br /&gt;I keep thinking about your smile&lt;br /&gt;Tryin' to read between the lines&lt;br /&gt;Looks like I'll be here for a while&lt;br /&gt;I should be sleeping,'stead of keeping&lt;br /&gt;These late hours I've been keeping&lt;br /&gt;I've been pacing and retracing&lt;br /&gt;Every step of every move&lt;br /&gt;An even though I'm feeling so right&lt;br /&gt;I'm so happy,still I knowI should be sleeping,'stead of dreamin' about you&lt;br /&gt;After just three days&lt;br /&gt;One great kiss&lt;br /&gt;It's way too soon&lt;br /&gt;To be obsessin'like this&lt;br /&gt;I should be sleeping,'stead of keeping&lt;br /&gt;These late hours I've been keeping&lt;br /&gt;I've been pacing and retracing&lt;br /&gt;Every step of every move&lt;br /&gt;An even though I'm feeling so right&lt;br /&gt;I'm so happy,still I knowI should be sleeping,'stead of dreamin' about you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6086908440899998076?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6086908440899998076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6086908440899998076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6086908440899998076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6086908440899998076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-should-be-sleeping.html' title='I should be sleeping'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-1195645850902319779</id><published>2009-09-16T13:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T13:43:38.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best repo ever</title><content type='html'>Best repo ever&lt;br /&gt; I work for a rental car company and from time to time I have to go repo cars that people don’t return.  Yesterday I had to repo one. My employee, we will call him……Kase……went with me.  Kase is 6 foot 5 300 pounds bald headed black man.  He sang at the top of his lungs to PINK the whole way to the repo.&lt;br /&gt;We get to the trailer to do the repo, and I realized I have done repos there before.  I knock on the door, and a crack head flings the door open.&lt;br /&gt;He said WHA!@#&amp;amp;*.&lt;br /&gt;Then he realized that there was a little white girl in a business suit at his door. &lt;br /&gt;So he says "What you here to take the kids?" &lt;br /&gt;"No….. (Hand gesture) but I can make a call to help ya with that."&lt;br /&gt;Kase:" we are here to pick up the rental."&lt;br /&gt;Customer:  "My sons got it he at work."&lt;br /&gt;After he says that a truck pulls up and this white guy gets out and he is dressed nice, and was like “ya'll, ok need some help?”&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;He sees the customer, and they exchange words, money and other objects (hand gesture) on the porch.&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;The customer tells me, he is going to get the car, so he jumps in his Durango and drives like he is on the Dukes of Hazard at full speed in the rain. Spinning tires, almost hit the A-team van we had driven there.&lt;br /&gt;Comes back empty handed.&lt;br /&gt;I figured as much.We ask him again where his son works, he was like…………he at work, he at work.&lt;br /&gt;We give him his options.&lt;br /&gt;We pass at cop, so I flag him down just to help get some info from the customer.&lt;br /&gt;I tell him the customer’s name. He was like I was just there yesterday.So the cops gets the sons name and number and talks to me about it.  &lt;br /&gt;I said "I assume the son is Street Pharmaceutical Sales."&lt;br /&gt;Officer responded with, "Yup, he’s your guy."&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!?&lt;br /&gt; We wind up leaving with no truck, no keys, but we did keep our pride.The moral of this is don’t walk up to trailers in a business suit containing a crack head.&lt;br /&gt;Just saying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-1195645850902319779?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/1195645850902319779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=1195645850902319779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1195645850902319779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1195645850902319779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/09/best-repo-ever.html' title='Best repo ever'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-7162071771148929600</id><published>2009-08-20T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T20:29:09.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aint it Funny how a Melody can bring back a memory?</title><content type='html'>So, I am back to another wonder week in life. Its almost friday, so yay. I am still coping with being 30. I remmber being a child and my uncle turned 30 and I thought he was old, but still the coolest cat i knew! HAHA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been a long damn week.  But its almost over.&lt;br /&gt;Work is stressing me out.  What else is new?  I just know tommorow is friday, i have 2 reservations and a grasshoppers game to go too. &lt;br /&gt;My senior class is trying to have a picnic this fall back home..............I'll go if there is whiskey and someone goes with me.   I dont talk to most of them for a reason.......... I wouldnt wanna go back to AGHS if I didnt have too.  HA.&lt;br /&gt;Chris is getting married in October in Ocracoke.  I got my invite finally, Now I gotta find a decent suit and someone who can put up with me for a weekend at the beach.  I think he is gettign married on his sisters fall break, makes sense so she can attend I guess.&lt;br /&gt;I need to call him.  That reminds me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-7162071771148929600?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/7162071771148929600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=7162071771148929600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7162071771148929600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7162071771148929600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/08/aint-it-funny-how-melody-can-bring-back.html' title='Aint it Funny how a Melody can bring back a memory?'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5394963617272556088</id><published>2009-08-05T11:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T11:14:53.027-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is a Treadmill</title><content type='html'>So, I am starting to feel like Life is a Treadmill.  I keep running, to a destination that is never clear.  I am tired of the stress, the lack of sleep etc.  I am tired of being tired.  August sucks for me so bad.   I keep climbing and falling, but I keep on trying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5394963617272556088?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5394963617272556088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5394963617272556088' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5394963617272556088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5394963617272556088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/08/life-is-treadmill.html' title='Life is a Treadmill'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-4277319837567052401</id><published>2009-05-29T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T10:36:30.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My next thirty years</title><content type='html'>I think I’ll take a moment, celebrate my age&lt;br /&gt;The ending of an era and the turning of a page&lt;br /&gt;Now it’s time to focus in on where I go from here&lt;br /&gt;Lord have mercy on my next thirty years&lt;br /&gt;Hey my next thirty years I’m gonna have some fun&lt;br /&gt;Try to forget about all the crazy things I’ve done&lt;br /&gt;Maybe now I’ve conquered all my adolescent fears&lt;br /&gt;And I’ll do it better in my next thirty years&lt;br /&gt;My next thirty years I’m gonna settle all the scores&lt;br /&gt;Cry a little less, laugh a little more&lt;br /&gt;Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear&lt;br /&gt;Figure out just what I’m doing here&lt;br /&gt;In my next thirty years&lt;br /&gt;Oh my next thirty years, I’m gonna watch my weight&lt;br /&gt;Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late&lt;br /&gt;Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I’ll remember my next thirty years&lt;br /&gt;My next thirty years will be the best years of my life&lt;br /&gt;Raise a little family and hang out with my wife&lt;br /&gt;Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear&lt;br /&gt;Make up for lost time here, in my next thirty years&lt;br /&gt;In my next thirty years&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-4277319837567052401?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/4277319837567052401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=4277319837567052401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4277319837567052401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4277319837567052401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-next-thirty-years.html' title='My next thirty years'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5446837004970964487</id><published>2009-04-04T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T08:05:38.842-07:00</updated><title type='text'>people like to get me riled up</title><content type='html'>So, there are a few things I am passionate about. Not many at all, but a few. One of those is my opinion on things. Sometimes I will budge, other times I wont. One example is this- Gay rights- I will budge a little one, because I know that I can never marry my partner here in NC. WE should be able to have equal rights but its never gonna happen. Enough of that.&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago a friend asked me if I thought a man had actually ever been to the moon. My answer surprised him. No. I dont think anyone has. If they have, why havent they been back? We go and orbit the earth 900 times, but we never go back to the moon. I know that Space is the Final Frontier (According to Capt. Jean-Luc Picard). I just dont think it happened. I could be wrong, probably am actually.&lt;br /&gt;The moon landing took place during the Nixon administration. I guess there needed to be a bright spot in his administration admist Vietnam, and Watergate. (Everyone I have asked about Nixon, did like him). Was this a continuation of former presidental agendas? Kennedy wanted us to be in the space race. (President Kennedy is a whole other topic! I will proceed with it in a moment.) We had all the Apollo missions, and the almost tragedy of Apollo 13. It was something that yes, we needed to do. We did need to go into space, it should have never been a race. Let Russia have the lead for once, but I guess if they did (Sputnik) everyone would panic. On too a topic that I really have formulated my own opinion about. President Kennedy and his assassination. (Sit down this is gonna take a minute.)&lt;br /&gt;Kennedy was the youngest elected president. He was 43 when elected. A young man to be sitting in the Oval Office bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. He chose Lyndon Johnson as his running mate. I have done a lot of reading about Kennedys presidency, and it seems to me like he didnt even like Johnson. Did Johnson have something to do with the assassination of President Kennedy? Yes, I think he did. I will give you a few reasons why I think so. Johnson was from Texas. He knew Dallas, he also changed the motorcade route at the last moment to it would go right in front of the Texas School Book Depository. He also was in a convertable several cars behind the president. He was wearing a ear piece (much like you use today on your Ipod) hooked to a small radio. He ducked down in the convertable he was in moments BEFORE the shots were fired. (I would already assume guilt). He goes to Parkland Hospital (he is not technically president at this point), and intervenes in the care for the President. He goes to board Air Force One to be sworn in, and gets mad at the Secret Service and others, because they put the Presidents body on the plane first. (A sitting President always enters first.) Then he entered and was sworn in. As soon as he finished his swaring in, he looked at a gentleman behind him and winked. If he was gonna wink, why not just give a thumbs up....geez.&lt;br /&gt;Johnson then put together the Warren Commision, (which included future president Gerald Ford). They said it was all done by Lee Harvey Oswald. Doubtful, very doubtful. I have watched the Zappradaur film, several times, and you see the president move backwards when he is shot in the head. If a bullet had been coming from behind him and it would have from the Texas School Book Depository, he would have lunged forward, not backward. We were all taught in school about the Magic Bullet theory. One bullet hit Kennedy, hit the seat in front of him and pass through it before hitting Governor Connelly. I remember being in US History in middle school and thinking to myself there was no way that could happen. I think we are taught that to make people not think about what really happened.&lt;br /&gt;I went to Dallas in 2004, and I went to the Texas School Book Depository, and looked out the window that Oswald shot out of. I walked the grassy knoll. There is a X on the road where the President was shot. Did Oswald take a shot at the President? Yes, I think he did. His shot was probably the one that hit the President in the back. Yes, the President had more than one wound.&lt;br /&gt;I think alot was covered up in his assassination and Johnson desire to be President. Honestly what did Johnson do? He did the Civil Rights Act (which Kennedy was supportive of), and he threw us into Vietnam. Vietnam....I will leave that one alone, (we should have never been there in the first place.) Ok I am going to get off my sopabox now! Feel free to comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5446837004970964487?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5446837004970964487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5446837004970964487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5446837004970964487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5446837004970964487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/04/people-like-to-get-me-riled-up.html' title='people like to get me riled up'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-1089670646314752377</id><published>2009-04-01T11:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T11:59:02.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I get so tired of wondering why....</title><content type='html'>Everyone knows I was adopted.  Its no secret.  My family told me when I was a child.  Even though at the time I wasnt sure what that meant.  Well here I am less than 2 months from turning 30 and still dont know.  I think what gets me is that someone can just give up there kid.  I mean really????  I honestly believe my birthmother used adoption as a form of birth control.  I know there were 3 of us.  It has been brought to my attention that there could even be one more.  WHY?   Don't get me wrong, I grew up wiht GREAT parents, and a wonderful extended family.  I guess I just wanted to know where I came from.&lt;br /&gt;Well I met the Birthmom in 1998.  It shattered any image I ever had of her in my mind.  In my mind she was the leader of the pack, the CEO, CFO, COO, etc.  When in reality she was none of these.  I dont understand. &lt;br /&gt;I met the Birthfather too.  He was nice enough, but he didnt think I was his.  I look just like him!  CARBON COPY....I have a picture to prove it.&lt;br /&gt;He claimed that he didnt know either time.  I don't know.  I think he knew something.  I really do. &lt;br /&gt;....to be adopted is to be adapted....  That is the truest statement I know.  I think if had never met the birthfamily that things would be different.  I am glad I know, since I always wondered.  I met them both on my own terms, after giving me away, the least they could do was listen to my terms on something. &lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the rant, but I hold alot of ANGER in my heart about this. Now I am gonna spend my time trying to figure out if I have another sibiling out there.  Its hard to search, but I have a birthdate.  We will see, I will update as I learn more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-1089670646314752377?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/1089670646314752377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=1089670646314752377' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1089670646314752377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1089670646314752377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-get-so-tired-of-wondering-why.html' title='I get so tired of wondering why....'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-4424164265759399665</id><published>2009-03-17T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T11:49:12.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this says it all.  :(</title><content type='html'>i been sittin' here staring at the clock on the wall&lt;br /&gt;and i been layin here praying praying she won't call&lt;br /&gt;it's just another call from home and you'll get it and be gone and i'll be crying&lt;br /&gt;and i'll be beggin you baby&lt;br /&gt;beg you not to leave&lt;br /&gt;but i'll be left here waitingwith my heart on my sleeve&lt;br /&gt;oh for the next time we'll be here&lt;br /&gt;seems like a million years&lt;br /&gt;and i think i'm dying&lt;br /&gt;what do i have to do to make you see&lt;br /&gt;she can't love you like me&lt;br /&gt;why dont you stay&lt;br /&gt;im down on my knees&lt;br /&gt;im so tired of being lonely&lt;br /&gt;don't i give you what you need&lt;br /&gt;when she calls you will go&lt;br /&gt;there is one thing you should know&lt;br /&gt;we dont have to live this way&lt;br /&gt;baby why dont you stay&lt;br /&gt;you keep telling me baby&lt;br /&gt;there will come a timewhen you will leave her arms&lt;br /&gt;and forever be in mine&lt;br /&gt;but i don't think that's the truth&lt;br /&gt;and i don't like being used&lt;br /&gt;and i'm tired of waiting&lt;br /&gt;it's too much pain to have to bear&lt;br /&gt;to love a woman you have to share&lt;br /&gt;why dont you stay&lt;br /&gt;im down on my knees&lt;br /&gt;im so tired of being lonely&lt;br /&gt;don't i give you what you need&lt;br /&gt;when she calls you will go&lt;br /&gt;there is one thing you should know&lt;br /&gt;we dont have to live this way&lt;br /&gt;baby why dont you stay&lt;br /&gt;i can't take it any longer&lt;br /&gt;but my will is getting stronger&lt;br /&gt;and i think i know just what i have to do&lt;br /&gt;i can't waste another minute&lt;br /&gt;after all that i've put in it&lt;br /&gt;i've given you my best why does she get the best of you&lt;br /&gt;so the next time you find&lt;br /&gt;you wanna leave her bed for mine&lt;br /&gt;why dont you stayim up off my knees&lt;br /&gt;im so tired of being lonely&lt;br /&gt;you cant give me what i need&lt;br /&gt;when she begs you not to go&lt;br /&gt;there is one thing you should know&lt;br /&gt;i dont have to live this way&lt;br /&gt;baby why dont you stay&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-4424164265759399665?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/4424164265759399665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=4424164265759399665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4424164265759399665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4424164265759399665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-says-it-all.html' title='this says it all.  :('/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8721099270812655188</id><published>2009-03-14T07:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T07:59:20.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my view of home</title><content type='html'>Im from the fourth row pew of a old Methodist church&lt;br /&gt; A courthouse clock that still dont work&lt;br /&gt; Where a mans word means everything&lt;br /&gt; Where moms and dads were high school flames and&lt;br /&gt; Gave their children Grandmothers maiden name&lt;br /&gt; Yes, it may not sound like much But its where im from&lt;br /&gt; Where the quarterback dates the homecoming queen&lt;br /&gt;The trucks a Ford and the tractor's green&lt;br /&gt;and amazing grace is what we sing where&lt;br /&gt;Theres a county fair every fall and your friends are there no matter when you call&lt;br /&gt;It may not sound like much but its where im from&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8721099270812655188?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8721099270812655188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8721099270812655188' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8721099270812655188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8721099270812655188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-view-of-home.html' title='my view of home'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5576199273603198848</id><published>2009-03-12T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T12:30:37.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All I ask</title><content type='html'>All I ask of those of you who may read my blog is this.   Don't give up on me.   I am gonna be ok, its gonna take some time, but I think I will be ok.  So just dont give up on me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5576199273603198848?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5576199273603198848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5576199273603198848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5576199273603198848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5576199273603198848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/03/all-i-ask.html' title='All I ask'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5015003386789542078</id><published>2009-03-12T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T11:57:50.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anger</title><content type='html'>Why am I so angry today?  I dont know.  Maybe its because I am here by myself....AGAIN.  Maybe its because Christi is stressed out too.  We are both just on eggshells these days.  I keep trying to help out and keep getting asked not too.  Why is that everytime I get to the top of a mountain I fall back down it.  Its annoying.  I wanna stay at the top for once in my life.  I feel like I am in a repeative cycle.  It is gonna keep happening, I am gonna keep falling, its annoying.  i just wanna make it for once.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5015003386789542078?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5015003386789542078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5015003386789542078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5015003386789542078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5015003386789542078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/03/anger.html' title='Anger'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6439805255261095822</id><published>2009-03-06T14:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T14:35:24.819-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To find a better day....</title><content type='html'>So, I feel like walking away to find a better day.  I really do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6439805255261095822?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6439805255261095822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6439805255261095822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6439805255261095822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6439805255261095822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-find-better-day.html' title='To find a better day....'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6530407685281900249</id><published>2009-02-19T13:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T13:53:46.252-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you rather?</title><content type='html'>I played a game of Would you Rather a few weeks ago and had to make up a question. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you rather sit in a session of Congress without the ability to speak for one day&lt;br /&gt;                                                                        OR&lt;br /&gt;be the Presidents advisor using only post-it notes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts?&lt;br /&gt;I just noticed that this question makes me look incredibily intellegent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6530407685281900249?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6530407685281900249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6530407685281900249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6530407685281900249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6530407685281900249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/02/would-you-rather.html' title='Would you rather?'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-1262772696288166849</id><published>2009-02-17T06:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T06:34:16.074-08:00</updated><title type='text'>whatever it is</title><content type='html'>She's got eyes that cut you like a knife&lt;br /&gt;And her lips that taste like sweet red wine&lt;br /&gt; And her pretty legs go to heaven every time&lt;br /&gt; She got a gentle way that puts me at ease&lt;br /&gt; When she walks in the room I can hardly breathe&lt;br /&gt; Got a devasating smile-&lt;br /&gt;Knock a grown man to his knees&lt;br /&gt;She got whatever it is&lt;br /&gt; That blows me away&lt;br /&gt;She's everything I wanna say to a woman but I couldn't find the words to say&lt;br /&gt;She got whatever it is&lt;br /&gt;Don't know what to do&lt;br /&gt;Every time I try to tell her how it feels it comes out "I love you"&lt;br /&gt;You've got whatever it is&lt;br /&gt;You know I've never been the type that would ever wanna stay&lt;br /&gt;Bring 'em home and night and they're gone the next day&lt;br /&gt; But that all changed when she walked into my life&lt;br /&gt;And people ask me why it is I tell 'em I don't know&lt;br /&gt;There's just something bout the woman makes me heart go-haywire&lt;br /&gt;And she's gonna be my wife&lt;br /&gt;She got whatever it is&lt;br /&gt; That blows me away&lt;br /&gt;She's everything I wanna say to a woman but I couldn't find the words to say&lt;br /&gt;She got whatever it is&lt;br /&gt; I don't know what to do&lt;br /&gt;Every time I try to tell her how I feels it comes out "I love you"&lt;br /&gt;You've got whatever it is&lt;br /&gt; Now when you love me&lt;br /&gt; Girl that's how I feel&lt;br /&gt;When you love me I'm on top of the world&lt;br /&gt; When you love me I can live forever&lt;br /&gt; When you love me I am untouchable&lt;br /&gt; You got whatever it is&lt;br /&gt;That blows me away&lt;br /&gt; You're everything I wanna say to a woman but I couldn't find the words to say&lt;br /&gt;You've got whatever it is&lt;br /&gt;Don't know what to do&lt;br /&gt;Every time I try to tell her how it feels it comes out "I love-I do"&lt;br /&gt;You've got whatever it is Yeah, you've got whatever it is&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-1262772696288166849?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/1262772696288166849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=1262772696288166849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1262772696288166849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1262772696288166849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/02/whatever-it-is.html' title='whatever it is'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3467071534479462175</id><published>2009-01-13T04:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T04:58:45.929-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't keep being your last call</title><content type='html'>So I get a text yesterday, from someone I hadnt spoken with in a while.  The text stated that things were not going well for her and she was afraid to lose her relationship.  So of course I console her and try to make things better.  She always text me or calls me when things like this happen.  I have set aside the fact that 2 years of my life were given to her in a relationship that did not survive.  I just find it awkward to know that she is reaching out to her ex-girlfriend instead of other people.  I can only do/say so much.  I cant make anything better, I would try if I could.  This is the same girl that gets mad if I mention dating or anyone I am seeing.  She tells me to be happy, but cant stand it when I am.  Its a double edged sword.   I dont know what to do what to say. All I can do is listen.  I try to do that, but when I make a comment to respond to something she has said its always the wrong comment.  Dont ask for my opinion if you dont want it.  I have been keeping thngs from her, she wants to know every minute detail in my life.  She hasnt wanted anything to do with me since 2005 so why should I tell her things.  I will care about her, and I always will wish her well, I just cant keep being her last call. She has to sort things out on her own now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3467071534479462175?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3467071534479462175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3467071534479462175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3467071534479462175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3467071534479462175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-cant-keep-being-your-last-call.html' title='I can&apos;t keep being your last call'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8934756048168642719</id><published>2009-01-12T19:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T09:47:02.662-08:00</updated><title type='text'>you know you have been to Camp Don Lee if....</title><content type='html'>1. If there is a board somewhere at camp with your name on it.&lt;br /&gt;2. If you've ever fixed something with Duct tape or Green String.&lt;br /&gt;3. If you have an anklet&lt;br /&gt;4. If you have ever forbid the use of the word Seagull&lt;br /&gt;5. If you go on the Ferry and wish you had bread&lt;br /&gt;6. If you dont think pools where you can see the bottom exist.&lt;br /&gt;7. If you've sailed in brown water&lt;br /&gt;8. If you have dirt lines and tan lines that don't match up&lt;br /&gt;9. If you think Singing is a legit way to ward away jellyfish&lt;br /&gt;10. If you miss camp so much it hurts sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;11. If you think 4 square should be an actual sport&lt;br /&gt;12. If the only way you can eat things is to put copious amounts of Ranch Dressing on them&lt;br /&gt;13. If having Hot Chocolate after every meal in the Summer isnt a weird concept.&lt;br /&gt;14. If you know how to wash your laundry at camp&lt;br /&gt;15. If you have ever been thrown in a pool on your birthday... or for singing Rise and Shine.&lt;br /&gt;16. If you know all of the words to Rise and Shine&lt;br /&gt;17. If you've had a PB and J and a Chicken Sandwich at the same meal.&lt;br /&gt;18. If you think Chicken Ranch Burritos are a gift from God&lt;br /&gt;19. If water polo is more than just a game to you&lt;br /&gt;20. If you have ever cheered by simply saying the word 'Yay' and waved your fists above your head&lt;br /&gt;21. If you know 30 different beginnings to the Johnny Appleseed Blessing.&lt;br /&gt;22. If you have ever sung a blessing in a public place&lt;br /&gt;23. If you think waking up at 715 all summer is worth it&lt;br /&gt;24. If you get tired at 1:00&lt;br /&gt;25. If you know Hayride etiquette&lt;br /&gt;26. If you have ever suddenly had the urge to play guitar&lt;br /&gt;27. If your idea of a good time is going to Target&lt;br /&gt;28. If you get camp sick&lt;br /&gt;29. If you have ever spent more than 24 hours at a time in Pamlico County.&lt;br /&gt;30. If there is a list of things you have broken&lt;br /&gt;31. If you have ever played Signs&lt;br /&gt;32. If you could do TP shuffle with your eyes closed.&lt;br /&gt;33. If the word Tweeker does not get spell checked in your Microsoft Word&lt;br /&gt;34. If you dont think of the baseball team when you hear about the Mariners.&lt;br /&gt;35. If you know the words and the motions to Desperado&lt;br /&gt;36. If you know what someone tapping their shoulder with 2 fingers means.&lt;br /&gt;37. If you own a pair of croakies&lt;br /&gt;38. If you own a water proof bag.&lt;br /&gt;39. If you know more about recent events in P-county than major events in the rest of the world.&lt;br /&gt;40. If you could wear camp shirts for more than a week without wearing them twice&lt;br /&gt;41. If you have ever referred to a semester as a session&lt;br /&gt;42. If you think of new and different ways to lie to small children every week.&lt;br /&gt;43. If you have ever pretended to be married or to be someones sibling at camp.&lt;br /&gt;44. If a child has guessed your age to be over 30 when you aren't 20 yet.&lt;br /&gt;45. If you have a wet and dry pair of rainbows.&lt;br /&gt;46. If you have seen every color of crocs ever made.&lt;br /&gt;47. If you learned new cheesy pick-up lines by going swimming.&lt;br /&gt;48. If you've ever been screamed at by 16 kids to have fun.&lt;br /&gt;49. If bottled water tastes funny to you after the summer is over.&lt;br /&gt;50. If you have ever fed apples to snapping turtles.&lt;br /&gt;51. If you get angry when people say the word "Shop"&lt;br /&gt;52. If you know what roses and thorns are.&lt;br /&gt;53. If you have ever prayed for wind.&lt;br /&gt;54. If you have ever sung a "repeat after me song"&lt;br /&gt;55. If you have ever made the sound of a whip while you were blessing the food.&lt;br /&gt;56. If you have ever had a small cut that lasted for over 3 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;57. If you have a life jacket tan&lt;br /&gt;58. If you have ever gone swimming with a lifejacket because you were too lazy to actually tread water.&lt;br /&gt;59. If you have played the awkward question game.&lt;br /&gt;60. If you fill time between summers by going to school.&lt;br /&gt;61. If you have spent an entire pay check on most of the following: food, bug spray, sunscreen, and duct tape.&lt;br /&gt;62. If your shower time is directly proportionate to how much hot water you get... ie; if you've gone for more than a week without one.&lt;br /&gt;63. If you know the value of morning meds.&lt;br /&gt;64. If you take a sailing class and are forbidden from answering questions because you answered every one of the previous ones...&lt;br /&gt;65. If you sing "WOOOO" after phrases in the birthday song.&lt;br /&gt;66. If you aren't afraid of the path to the LIT cabin.&lt;br /&gt;67. If you can't listen to the radio without saying... we should make a caper cheer to this song...recently added...&lt;br /&gt;68. If you and have ever made your friends at school learn a camp blessing and sing in in the caf.&lt;br /&gt;69. If you miss having as many dirt lines than tan lines.&lt;br /&gt;70. If you know what Ladder Golf (dangleballs) is.&lt;br /&gt;71. If you know where to find people on their nights off depending on what time it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8934756048168642719?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8934756048168642719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8934756048168642719' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8934756048168642719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8934756048168642719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/01/you-know-you-have-been-to-camp-don-lee.html' title='you know you have been to Camp Don Lee if....'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8555296235962210376</id><published>2009-01-08T08:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T08:40:22.928-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Charleston!</title><content type='html'>I am headed down to Charleston On Feb 27th.  I am excited a weekend to relax with my cousin and her kids.  Anyone want anything?  If so, jump in the car with me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8555296235962210376?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8555296235962210376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8555296235962210376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8555296235962210376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8555296235962210376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/01/charleston_08.html' title='Charleston!'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8767590663305223196</id><published>2009-01-08T08:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T08:38:22.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Less than 5 months to go</title><content type='html'>So I turn 30 in May.  I have been worried about it and upset about it....Screw it.  Some people dont start living until 30. Thats almost the case with me. I started living at 28, sobered up and changed, strated living.  I know that I am almost 30, unmarried, no kids, and thats ok.  My dad was 31 when I was born.  The last thing on my mind is having a kid.  I wanna have a partner and a house before kids come into the picture. I cant take care of myself let alone a kid.  Just saying.  I have decided to go back to school in August.  If I dont go now, I will never go.  I wanna get a degree in Education and be a teacher.  I think thats something I can do.  I believe in me.  For a change.  Screw what everyone else thinks....I gotta be me.  I am what I am take it or leave it. My twenties were filled with people pushing me down, and I dont care anymore.  You cant do it anymore.  Yeah I regret being 23-28 but what can I do.  I changed and in 5 years I will be a different person.  I will be someone better than I am right now. I will be a teacher, so I will be someones hero.  Thats my theory.  I would be a fun teacher, and goof off and someone who cares.  Thats whats important.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8767590663305223196?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8767590663305223196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8767590663305223196' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8767590663305223196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8767590663305223196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/01/less-than-5-months-to-go.html' title='Less than 5 months to go'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8361576471987448201</id><published>2009-01-08T08:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T08:12:20.368-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Summertimes Calling Me</title><content type='html'>I remember this past winter&lt;br /&gt;I told myself to settle down&lt;br /&gt;And I seriously tried to do just that&lt;br /&gt;Now here I am with everything&lt;br /&gt;So beautiful and green&lt;br /&gt;And I don’t believe that I told myself what I mean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe someday soon I can feel this way around&lt;br /&gt;But it’s summertime and I don’t want to stay in this town&lt;br /&gt;I wanna sit there in the sand&lt;br /&gt;Watch those golden tans go walking by&lt;br /&gt;I know it isn’t fair cause you might really care&lt;br /&gt;But it’s different now, Summertime’s calling me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t think I’m ready to develop a routine&lt;br /&gt;When it’s cold and snow’s on the ground&lt;br /&gt;It’s a different scene&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe someday soon I can feel this way around&lt;br /&gt;But it’s summertime and I don’t want to stay in this town&lt;br /&gt;I wanna sit there in the sand&lt;br /&gt;Watch those golden tans go walking by&lt;br /&gt;I know it isn’t fair cause you might really care&lt;br /&gt;But it’s different now, Summertime’s calling me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8361576471987448201?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8361576471987448201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8361576471987448201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8361576471987448201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8361576471987448201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/01/summertimes-calling-me.html' title='Summertimes Calling Me'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-860094310582111483</id><published>2009-01-06T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T11:38:34.477-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Charleston</title><content type='html'>So I went to Charleston for Christmas.  The day after Christmas we went and explored the town.  It was amazing.  beautiful town.  I wanna go back so bad.  thats one of my new years resolutions, to go back to school and go back to charleston!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-860094310582111483?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/860094310582111483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=860094310582111483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/860094310582111483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/860094310582111483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/01/charleston.html' title='Charleston'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-4367991436640953544</id><published>2009-01-06T10:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T11:33:30.028-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holidays</title><content type='html'>I didnt type a blog about Christmas I am a slacker.  Ok well here it goes.&lt;br /&gt;Christmas Eve.&lt;br /&gt;I got off work at about 3pm, drove to Dads.  We took my Uncle John and his son Tyler to Logans for dinner. When we got back to the house, I realized that I hadnt wrapped any of Dads gifts!  I am such a slacker.  So I wrapped his gifts and put them under our Charlie Brown tree. (Its a tree that sits on a end table, seriously).  We had a discussion as to when we should open our gifts since we were leaving for Charleston EARLY Christmas Morning.  Dad wanted to open them that night.  He's a big kid he really is.  Its was quite cute watching him open his gifts!  I was just as excited about my gifts too.  I got a steamer! I dont iron so thats a perfect alternative. &lt;br /&gt;Christmas Morning.&lt;br /&gt;I got up at 7am, and fought off the urge to take off running down the hall to see what I got.  Everything was still sitting in the floor so I saw no point in being in a hurry. I managed to pull my lazy self out of bed sat at my kitchen table complaining because I wanted to go back to bed.  We packed up Christmas presents and our stuff to head to Charleston.  Dad put Karen's address in the GPS.  The GPS took us all over the place.  I didnt ever think we were gonna get to I-95.  We finally got on I-95.  Once on I-95 I started to count the South of the Border signs since there is one every 100 yards.  I tried to get dad to stop at South of the Border so I could get some fireworks, he said no.  This depressed me.  We were on I-95 for what seemed like an eternity.  We got off I-95 onto 26 to Charleston.  I dont know how anyone can stay awake on taht stretch of road, trees on both sides.  Incredibly boring.  We finally got to Charleston and the GPS did manage to succesful guide us right to Karen's house.  We parked and I climbed out of the truck and it was hot.  I mean 80 degrees hot.  I had on a sweatshirt, that immediatly came off!  Immediatly! &lt;br /&gt;Christmas Day Part 2&lt;br /&gt;My cousin Paul and Uncle Mitchell were already there.  I had never been in their new house. It is quite nice.  Ian was sitting in the play room watching a movie.  Caleb was playing with some toys.  Karen was in the living room and Danny was outside cooking up some oysters.  Aunt Dottie showed up a short time later.  She had some mini crab cakes, that were amazing.  Just wanted to mention that.  I took the tour of the house.  I really like it.  Really. We all kinda congregated and just chatted and goofed off for a while.  There was no formality in this Christmas dinner.  We put up a collapsable table in the screened in porch.  Dad, Paul, Uncle Mitchell and danny were shucking oysters and Ian kept saying I want a baby oyster.  It was adorable.  i attacked the crablegs.  When I say attacked.  I mean attacked.  After the crablegs I sat outside and shucked oysters and chatted.  It was nice.   Then I needed a nap, no nap would be afforded to me.  We opened gifts, let me rephrase, Caleb and Ian opened our gifts.  The rest of the day we spend Wii bowling!  That was fun. I collapsed when I went ot bed, I was exhausted!&lt;br /&gt;It was a good day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-4367991436640953544?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/4367991436640953544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=4367991436640953544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4367991436640953544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4367991436640953544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2009/01/holidays.html' title='Holidays'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-2067835344445213392</id><published>2008-12-31T11:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T11:08:30.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back Where I Come From</title><content type='html'>Well in the town where I was raised, the clock ticks and the cattle grazed&lt;br /&gt;Time passed with amazing grace,&lt;br /&gt;Back where I come from&lt;br /&gt;You can lie on a river bank, paint your name on a water tank or&lt;br /&gt;Miscount all the beers you drank,&lt;br /&gt;Back where I come from&lt;br /&gt;Back where I come from&lt;br /&gt;Where I'll be when its said and done&lt;br /&gt;I'm proud as anyone&lt;br /&gt;That's where I come from&lt;br /&gt; We learned in the Sunday school, who made the sun shine through&lt;br /&gt;I know who made the moon shine too,&lt;br /&gt;Back where I come from&lt;br /&gt;Blue eyes on a Saturday night, tan legs in the broad daylight&lt;br /&gt;TV's they were black and white,&lt;br /&gt;Back where I come from&lt;br /&gt;Back where I come from&lt;br /&gt;Where I'll be when its said and done&lt;br /&gt;I'm proud as anyone&lt;br /&gt;That's where I come from&lt;br /&gt;Some say it's a backward place, narrow minds on a narrow wage&lt;br /&gt;But I make it a point to say, that's where I come from&lt;br /&gt;That's where I come from&lt;br /&gt;Where I'll be when its said and done&lt;br /&gt;I'm proud as anyone&lt;br /&gt;That's where I come from&lt;br /&gt;Back where I come from&lt;br /&gt;I'm an old Tennessean&lt;br /&gt;Well Im proud as anyone&lt;br /&gt;That's where I come from&lt;br /&gt;That's where I come from&lt;br /&gt;That's where I come from&lt;br /&gt;That's where I come from&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-2067835344445213392?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/2067835344445213392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=2067835344445213392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2067835344445213392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2067835344445213392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/12/back-where-i-come-from.html' title='Back Where I Come From'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-858609560786553556</id><published>2008-12-12T14:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T14:29:05.325-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Highway 20 ride</title><content type='html'>I ride east every other Friday but if i had it my way Days would not be wasted on this drive And i want so bad to hold you Some of the things I haven't told you Your mom and me just couldn't get along So i'll drive And I'll think about my life And wonder why, I'll slowly die inside Everytime I turn that truck around, right at the Georgia line and i count the days and the miles back home to you on that Highway 20 ride A day might come and you'll realize that if you could see through my eyes There was no other way to work it out And a part of you might hate me But son please don´t mistake me For a man that didnt care at all So i'll drive And I'll think about my life And wonder why, I'll slowly die inside Everytime I turn that truck around, right at the Georgia line and i count the days and the miles back home to you on that Highway 20 ride So when you drive And the years go flying by I hope you smile If i ever cross your mind It was a pleasure of my life And i cherished every time And my whole world It begins and ends with you On that Highway 20 ride....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-858609560786553556?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/858609560786553556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=858609560786553556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/858609560786553556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/858609560786553556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/12/highway-20-ride.html' title='Highway 20 ride'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-745775841611333344</id><published>2008-11-15T08:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T08:29:59.424-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One More Day</title><content type='html'>Days like today when everything seems to fall apart, I start to miss my mom even more.  She was my rock.  She was my shield, she was everything a mother should be.  Her death threw me into a tailspin.  i started to drink heavily.  I am back at that phase in my life again.  I am trying not to start drinking again, but its really hard to do.  I just want to hear her say, its all gonna be alright.  Thats all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-745775841611333344?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/745775841611333344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=745775841611333344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/745775841611333344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/745775841611333344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/11/one-more-day.html' title='One More Day'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3555992689472938201</id><published>2008-11-14T07:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T07:12:31.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'>everything i touch turns to crap</title><content type='html'>so, apparently I have screwed up once again.    story of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3555992689472938201?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3555992689472938201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3555992689472938201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3555992689472938201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3555992689472938201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/11/everything-i-touch-turns-to-crap.html' title='everything i touch turns to crap'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6982847426976815598</id><published>2008-11-05T07:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T08:07:53.463-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Election is over</title><content type='html'>Ok, So this election was the biggest election in recent history.  This one compares to Kennedy-Nixon of my parents generation.  We all had an idea who was going to win.  No one is going to be happy about it.  There is always going to be someone who is angry about the election.  For the next 4 years Rush Limbaugh is gonna give himself an anuesum complaining......Why wont he run then and shut his mouth.  I get so tired of trying to express my opinion on this election. Simply because NO ONE wants to listen.  The media shows images and distorts things and that become the reality that we have.  No one wants to get to know the man.   They assume that he is Muslim and that he wont put his hand over his heart during the pledge of alligence.  Honestly, about seven times out of ten, I forget to do it too, even during the National Anthem. &lt;br /&gt;As far as spreading the wealth.  Way too many people took this way to literaly.  I dont think he means that the welfare mom with 6 kids who has been using the system will get more money.  I inturpretted it as the person like me who makes a reasonable salary but still lives hand to mouth or paycheck to paycheck, will be given a break.  I found a website lately that shows the difference in taxes from 1776 (the founding of this wonderful country) to now.  For example, inheritance tax, etc.  We cannot compain about paying taxes.  Hell, my car taxes are 250 a year, and I hate that, but I cant change it.  The President CAN NOT change it.&lt;br /&gt;The President is a figure head.   Lets all think back for a moment.  I know we all remember our senior year of High School when you had Student Governement elections.  What did the Class President do?   They spoke at Graduation and went to the meetings, it was the Class Represenatives like me that did all the work.  We would debate a topic and the President would present it.  That is how it is for the country as well.  He is a figure head.  He makes request of Congress, and they either agree or overrule him.  He does have the power to Veto a vote.  Much like Bush did with the Hate Crimes legislation that he vetoed. (That pissed me off by the way!)&lt;br /&gt;We cannot change this now.  Whats done is done.  We can hope that he does get the economy turned around.  I dont know what is going to happen, no one knows.  I know that at this point, the country has shown that we are NOT a racist country.  Had John McCain won this election, I think the race card would have been played today.&lt;br /&gt;I saw an image of Jesse Jackson on CNN last night and he was crying.  He was so happy that a black man had been elected president.  Obama's mother was white.  Why do we keep forgetting this?  His father was black, yes but his mother was white.  Yes, he made history about 11pm last night.  Instead of us saying he is the first black president, why not the first multi-race president? &lt;br /&gt;North Carolina typically is a red state. Last night it became a blue state. Its the first time since 1964 that it has been won by a Democrat.  The race was too close to call until this morning, when it was called a blue state. The margin of victory was small.  Very Small, but he managed to pull it out.  Both candidates did a hell of a good job with their campaigns.  But my question is this.  Whats gonna happen to Sarah Palin now?  I guess she is back to shooting moose!  I just wondered.  What does a candidiate do after a political loss?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6982847426976815598?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6982847426976815598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6982847426976815598' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6982847426976815598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6982847426976815598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/11/election-is-over.html' title='The Election is over'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5257741905216089562</id><published>2008-10-10T11:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T12:10:57.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my car got broken into</title><content type='html'>I wanna know who the bastard that broke into my car was.  I have never seen that much glass in a car before.  For a radar detector.  Thats the irony.  They didnt take anything else, just the radar detector.  My Ipod was in the car and my office cell phone.  They left both of those alone.  Wow, if all I got say.  You cannot imagine the sheer terror I felt when walking up to my car and seeing the glass everywhere.  It was not pretty.  I flipped out.  I called my dad, I called Angela, I called Wynton, I called everyone. I didnt know what to do. I called the cops. The cops never showed up.  They never showed. I have no faith in the system.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5257741905216089562?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5257741905216089562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5257741905216089562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5257741905216089562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5257741905216089562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-car-got-broken-into.html' title='my car got broken into'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-922347877847323995</id><published>2008-10-06T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T14:04:03.947-07:00</updated><title type='text'>walking away</title><content type='html'>we were young i was foolish to ever think that this could last foreveri knew nothing of what a love could bring but now that you're gone i'm still smiling 'cause there is comfort in this solitude and i've learned to sleep alone again and extra pillows i've no need for now 'cause just one towel hangs from the bathroom wall but i'm fine and i'll be okay still got a lotta love to give away it was time so i said goodbye and then i walked away i'd had enough of your insensitivities the way you looked at me and said your face is looking fuller made me ugly so you'd be pretty well where did that get me down to one twenty well there are a lot of things i'm still quite mad about and you say it's time to forgive again well i let you in so close and you hurt me the most and it'll be some time before i learned to trust again but i'm fine and i'll be okay, still got a lot of love to give away and you can go absolutely fuck yourself for saying i'd never be on my feet again well nothing left to say so i'll take these feet now and walk away so here we are two grown up kids i'm wondering if i did the right thing by leaving let's leave it at this skip the goodbye kiss and don't you ever start to miss us and please don't call me and ask how i'm doing you know cause i'll work out alone again and one last thing i'd like to know exactly when we fell apart but that's all over now and yeah you can keep the cat and now i'm walking i'm walking i'll always be walking away&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-922347877847323995?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/922347877847323995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=922347877847323995' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/922347877847323995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/922347877847323995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/10/walking-away_06.html' title='walking away'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-9218734443948568130</id><published>2008-10-01T10:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T10:42:33.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>walking away</title><content type='html'>I'm walking away from the troubles in my life&lt;br /&gt;I'm walking away to find a better day&lt;br /&gt;I'm walking away from the troubles in my life&lt;br /&gt;I'm walking away to find a better day&lt;br /&gt;I'm walking away&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-9218734443948568130?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/9218734443948568130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=9218734443948568130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/9218734443948568130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/9218734443948568130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/10/walking-away.html' title='walking away'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-4659535747221270795</id><published>2008-10-01T05:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T05:04:58.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'>we really arent that different</title><content type='html'>Look behind your own soul&lt;br /&gt;And the person that you'll see&lt;br /&gt;Just might remind you of me&lt;br /&gt;I laugh, I love, I hope, I try&lt;br /&gt;I hurt, I need, I fear, I cry&lt;br /&gt;And I know you do the same things, too&lt;br /&gt;So we're really not that different, me and you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-4659535747221270795?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/4659535747221270795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=4659535747221270795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4659535747221270795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4659535747221270795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/10/we-really-arent-that-different.html' title='we really arent that different'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-4521229403921250948</id><published>2008-09-26T06:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T06:16:52.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bailout</title><content type='html'>I am not one to say how I feel about anything.  This bailout, tho, this makes me mad.  Very Mad.  I need to be bailed out too, I have debt, you have debt, we all do. Why not give the people that as a stimulus check, instead of the 600 bucks we got.  Make sense?  I see this as a bad idea, and things turning sour. This is my opinion.............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-4521229403921250948?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/4521229403921250948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=4521229403921250948' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4521229403921250948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4521229403921250948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/09/bailout.html' title='bailout'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6691466894803953497</id><published>2008-09-25T05:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T05:46:30.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here..........................sums it all up :)</title><content type='html'>There's a place I've been looking for&lt;br /&gt;That took me in and out of buildings&lt;br /&gt;Behind windows, walls and doors&lt;br /&gt;And I thought I found it&lt;br /&gt;Couple times, even settled down&lt;br /&gt;And I'd hang around just long enough&lt;br /&gt;To find my way back out&lt;br /&gt;I know now the place that I was trying to&lt;br /&gt;ReachWas you, right here in front of me&lt;br /&gt;And I wouldn't change a thing&lt;br /&gt;I'd walk right back through the rain&lt;br /&gt;Back to every broken heart&lt;br /&gt;On the day that it was breakin'&lt;br /&gt;And I'd relive all the years&lt;br /&gt;And be thankful for the tears&lt;br /&gt;I've cried with every stumbled step&lt;br /&gt;That led to you and got me here, right here&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing what I let my heart go through&lt;br /&gt;To get me where it got me&lt;br /&gt;In this moment here with you&lt;br /&gt;And it passed me byGod knows how many times&lt;br /&gt;I was so caught up in holding&lt;br /&gt;What I never thought I'd find&lt;br /&gt;I know now, there's a million roadsI had to take&lt;br /&gt;To get me in your arms that way&lt;br /&gt;In a love I never thought I'd get to get to-here&lt;br /&gt;And if that's the roadGod made me take to be with you&lt;br /&gt;And I'd relive all the years&lt;br /&gt;And be thankful for all the tears&lt;br /&gt;I've cried with every stumbled step&lt;br /&gt;That led to you and got me here, right here&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6691466894803953497?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6691466894803953497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6691466894803953497' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6691466894803953497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6691466894803953497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/09/heresums-it-all-up.html' title='Here..........................sums it all up :)'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8714909324070630728</id><published>2008-09-23T06:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T06:44:43.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'>roll with me</title><content type='html'>Wake up in the morning&lt;br /&gt;Get to living my life&lt;br /&gt;Making sure that Im all that I can be&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm slowing it down and I'm looking around&lt;br /&gt;And I'm lovin' this town and I'm doing alright&lt;br /&gt;Aint' worried 'bout nothing except the person I wanna be&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking it's time to be livin' the rhyme&lt;br /&gt;When I'm singing a song about nothing but right&lt;br /&gt;And it'd sure be nice if you would roll with me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8714909324070630728?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8714909324070630728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8714909324070630728' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8714909324070630728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8714909324070630728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/09/roll-with-me.html' title='roll with me'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6328735789401146958</id><published>2008-09-23T05:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T05:57:09.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>what is the right opinion?</title><content type='html'>I am not one to ever really put my opinions out there for everyone to know.  Sometimes, things really eat at me and I have to say something.  For example, religion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one is going to have the same opinion.  People are always going to think that they exactly what God is thinking.  No one knows what God is thinking.  No one knows what I am thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew up in the church, and as I have become an adult, now I question everything.  I grew up in the Methodist Church.  My dad was Baptist, my mom Methodist.  The one thing that I dont understand is why Baptist and Methodist have to be so different when they are one in the same.  All religion, Baptist, Methodist, Catholic, Judaism, etc, all have the fundamental belief in God.  Judaism does not believe that Jesus was a prophet, he was a man.  There is no Christmas and no Easter, instead there is Rosh Hasshana (I spelt that wrong!), and Passover.  How is this any different?  Aren't they all based on the same premise? I would say so.  In every religion you are going to hear that God spoke to Moses thru a burning bush. (If I ever hear a voice from a buring bush, I am gonna be goen so quick!) We all know that story, and we all know about Noah and the Ark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My question is why debate me on what Leviticus may say about my lifestyle?  It bothers me when people judge me and tell me that I am messing up when they have commited adultry or worse.  How is one sin different from another?  Its not.  I honestly do not think that when I die, God is gonna have me standing beside someone who murdered people and let them in and not me.  He isnt gonna look at me and say "You had a physical intimate relationship with another woman, so I cant let you in."   We are ALL taught in church that God is a forgiving God.  Then why as people can we NOT forgive.   Will someone explain that to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything that happens in our lives is directly effected by religion.  Someone telling me to have a blessed day, kinda offends me.  I understand that you want me to have a good day, but is that not a way to force some religion on someone? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked at Camp Don Lee for three years, and I loved every minute of it.  It was something I am glad that I did.  I learned alot and started to form my own opinion.  Camp made me part of the person that I am.  I began to question alot of things while I was there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to this topic, you are gonna believe what you believe, and I am going to respect it.  All i ask is that you do that same in return.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6328735789401146958?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6328735789401146958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6328735789401146958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6328735789401146958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6328735789401146958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-is-right-opinion.html' title='what is the right opinion?'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8511890538826285105</id><published>2008-09-18T14:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T14:29:17.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>decisions</title><content type='html'>We all make decisions that are going to effect us immediatly and permanetly.  (I cannot spell today)  I was thinking about decisions I have made today.  Good bad and ugly.  Most have been good and bad. I made a very complicated decison (ephiany, rather) about people to date.  I made good decsions in choices for jobs.  I made bad decsions regarding relationships.  I have finally made a good one tho. I have made bad ones too, like when I began drinking for example.  This was a BAD decision.  I have no idea where I am going with this.  I am happy for a change, and lets all try to accept that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8511890538826285105?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8511890538826285105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8511890538826285105' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8511890538826285105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8511890538826285105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/09/decisions.html' title='decisions'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-133111560481468334</id><published>2008-09-15T04:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T04:27:55.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>why does it go back to you?</title><content type='html'>back to you it always comes around back to you I tried to forget you I tried to stay away But it's too late over you I'm never over over you something about you It's just the way you move the way you move me I'm so good at forgetting and I quit every game I've played but forgive me love I can't turn and walk away back to you it always comes around back to you I walk with your shadow I'm sleeping in my bed with your silhouette should have smiled in that picture if it's the last that I'll see of you it's the least that you could not do oh I will leave the light on I'll never give up on you leave the light on for me too back to me I know that it comes back to me doesn't it scare you your will is not as strong as it used to be&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-133111560481468334?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/133111560481468334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=133111560481468334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/133111560481468334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/133111560481468334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/09/why-does-it-go-back-to-you.html' title='why does it go back to you?'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-4404049794386766001</id><published>2008-09-09T12:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T12:58:27.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'>stress</title><content type='html'>i am broke, stressed, frustrated, pissed at a lot of people, and worried about everything.  can anyone help me?  then again, does anyone want too?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-4404049794386766001?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/4404049794386766001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=4404049794386766001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4404049794386766001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4404049794386766001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/09/stress.html' title='stress'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3921156702678409071</id><published>2008-09-03T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T11:05:19.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>august 31</title><content type='html'>lets just say this.  i got thru it.  i cried a little, i laughed a little, but i got thru it.  i couldnt have without Korb tho!  Thanks Korb!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3921156702678409071?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3921156702678409071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3921156702678409071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3921156702678409071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3921156702678409071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/09/august-31.html' title='august 31'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3467731108312150086</id><published>2008-08-29T10:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T10:50:14.671-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Pirate looks at thirty</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;Mother, mother ocean, I have heard you call&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Youve seen it all, youve seen it all&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Watched the men who rode you switch from sails to steam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;And in your belly you hold the treasures few have ever seen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Most of em dream, most of em dream&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Yes I am a pirate, two hundred years too late&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;The cannons dont thunder, theres nothin to plunder&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Im an over-thirty victim of fate&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Arriving too late, arriving too late&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Ive done a bit of smugglin, Ive run my share of grass&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;I made enough money to buy miami, but I pissed it away so fast&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Never meant to last, never meant to last&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;And I have been drunk now for over two weeks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;I passed out and I rallied and I sprung a few leaks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;But I got stop wishin, got to go fishin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Down to rock bottom again&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Just a few friends, just a few friends&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;I go for younger women, lived with several awhile&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Though I ran em away, theyd come back one day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Still could manage to smile&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Just takes a while, just takes a while&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Mother, mother ocean, after all the years Ive found&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;My occupational hazard being my occupations just not around&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;I feel like Ive drowned, gonna head uptown&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;I feel like Ive drowned, gonna head uptown&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3467731108312150086?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3467731108312150086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3467731108312150086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3467731108312150086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3467731108312150086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/pirate-looks-at-thirty.html' title='A Pirate looks at thirty'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8116499664279992361</id><published>2008-08-25T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T05:50:30.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>August</title><content type='html'>Its been 11 years since I woke up at 8am and walked into the kitchen and mom was pacing, and dad wasnt home.  I couldnt figure out why.  I sat down at the bar in the kitchen and mom said to me, " your grandmother died last night".  of course i began to cry, and my mom tired to comfort me.  i asked where my dad was, she told me he was with his brother and my grandfather making the arrangements. My grandfather had called at around 3am to tell us and i ever heard the phone ring.  I kicked myself for not hearing it. My grandmother was 72 years old.  She had 2 sons, my dad in 1948 and his brother in 1965.  2 grandchildren me in 1979 and my cousin Tyler in 1996.  I know she died in her sleep, I dont know if there were any contributing factors to it.  She was having some trouble with her memory and things.  she didnt know that I had gone to camp and come home, despite the letters i had written to her while I was gone.  She died the first weekend I was in college.  I remember I had no clothes suitable for a funeral at my parents (since I had just moved) and I had to borrow a dress from my cousin.  I remember my dad had to buy a new suit, because his no longer fit.  I miss her.  I miss her cooking.  You could be at her house on a monday and at 5pm the table was covered!  I always ate well when I was there.  She made a chocolate cake with white icing with pecans in icing.  how i miss that cake.  &lt;br /&gt;In 1992 also in August, I think the 23rd, my Aunt Ollie died.  She was like a grandmother to Karen, Paul and myself.  Our grandparents died before we were born, so her and Uncle Steve stepped in and filled those shoes.  Her birthday was on Halloween, and mom and Aunt Dottie would always take us over to her house for cake when we were small.  We would wear our Halloween costumes. She had colon cancer and we had seen her not long before she passed away. She was at her house in her bedroom and her daughter was there.  I remember talking to her, and she looked at me like she knew me.  Her daughter called the house in the early morning. I again did not wake up, but my mom told me the next morning and then took me to my grandmothers for the day.  I did not attend school that day or the day of the funeral. Small graveside service, I remember that my Uncle Steve wore his cowboy hat.  Why I remember that I do not know. &lt;br /&gt;My mom died in August too, and this is a hard month for me.  If I can get thru the next 6 days I will be ok!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8116499664279992361?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8116499664279992361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8116499664279992361' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8116499664279992361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8116499664279992361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/august.html' title='August'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6320118279990600979</id><published>2008-08-22T11:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T11:32:59.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>softball</title><content type='html'>we won our game 18-4.  i played first.  couple good hits.  no complaints.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6320118279990600979?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6320118279990600979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6320118279990600979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6320118279990600979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6320118279990600979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/softball.html' title='softball'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-7910259812438285371</id><published>2008-08-22T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T11:31:51.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a little bit of chicken fried</title><content type='html'>You know I like my chicken fried&lt;br /&gt;Cold beer on a Friday night&lt;br /&gt;A pair of jeans that fit just right&lt;br /&gt;And the radio up&lt;br /&gt;Well I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia pine&lt;br /&gt;And that`s home you know&lt;br /&gt;Sweet tea pecan pie and homemade wine&lt;br /&gt;Where the peaches grow&lt;br /&gt;And my house it`s not much to talk about&lt;br /&gt;But it`s filled with love that`s grown in southern ground&lt;br /&gt;And a little bit of chicken fried&lt;br /&gt;Cold beer on a Friday night&lt;br /&gt;A pair of jeans that fit just right&lt;br /&gt;And the radio up&lt;br /&gt;Well I`ve seen the sunrise&lt;br /&gt;ee the love in my woman`s eyes&lt;br /&gt;Feel the touch of a precious child&lt;br /&gt;And know a mother`s love&lt;br /&gt;Well its funny how it`s the little things in life that mean the most&lt;br /&gt;Not where you live or the car you drive or the price tag on your clothes&lt;br /&gt;There`s no dollar sign on a piece of mind this I`ve come to know&lt;br /&gt;So if you agree have a drink with me&lt;br /&gt;Raise you glasses for a toast&lt;br /&gt;To a little bit of chicken fried&lt;br /&gt;Cold beer on a Friday night&lt;br /&gt;A pair of jeans that fit just right&lt;br /&gt;And the radio up&lt;br /&gt;Well I`ve seen the sunrise&lt;br /&gt;See the love in my woman`s eyes&lt;br /&gt;Feel the touch of a precious child&lt;br /&gt;And know a mother`s love&lt;br /&gt;I thank god for my life&lt;br /&gt;And for the stars and stripes&lt;br /&gt;May freedom forever fly, let it ring.&lt;br /&gt;Salute the ones who died&lt;br /&gt;The ones that give their lives so we don`t have to sacrifice&lt;br /&gt;All the things we love&lt;br /&gt;Like our chicken fried&lt;br /&gt;Cold beer on a Friday night&lt;br /&gt;A pair of jeans that fit just right&lt;br /&gt;And the radio up&lt;br /&gt;Well I`ve seen the sunrise&lt;br /&gt;See the love in my woman`s eyes&lt;br /&gt;Feel the touch of a precious child&lt;br /&gt;And know a mother`s love&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-7910259812438285371?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/7910259812438285371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=7910259812438285371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7910259812438285371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7910259812438285371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/little-bit-of-chicken-fried.html' title='a little bit of chicken fried'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-245710472139982832</id><published>2008-08-21T12:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T13:02:45.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'>50 radom facts about me</title><content type='html'>I have been tagged a number of times and just plain ignored them, but I decided to do this 50 interesting facts. Mainly because I wanted to see what I might come up with, so read if you so please.&lt;br /&gt;1. I was born on May 28, 1979&lt;br /&gt;2. I am 5 foot 7 inches according to my license.&lt;br /&gt;3. I hurt my knee last week&lt;br /&gt;4. I love all the seasons, especially summer&lt;br /&gt;5. I was adopted&lt;br /&gt;6. I have met my birth parents&lt;br /&gt;7. I think about moving to Canada&lt;br /&gt;8. I was always mad as a child that I was in a 3 person family, becasue we couldnt compete on Double Dare.&lt;br /&gt;9. I will be on Jeopardy one day&lt;br /&gt;10. I do stand up comedy on the side (pretty darn good too!)&lt;br /&gt;11. I have no children&lt;br /&gt;12. I love to go fishing.&lt;br /&gt;13. I grew up on a dirt road&lt;br /&gt;14. I love ot play softball&lt;br /&gt;15. I couldnt do a somersault if I tried&lt;br /&gt;16. I really dont like vegetables&lt;br /&gt;17. I love to go camping&lt;br /&gt;18. I know how to sail&lt;br /&gt;19. I like to write, most of it doesnt make much sense but i still enjoy doing it.&lt;br /&gt;20. I am not a morning person....&lt;br /&gt;21. I have only been to disneyworld once&lt;br /&gt;22. I have been to texas once&lt;br /&gt;23. I am an only child&lt;br /&gt;24. I know how to drive a tractor&lt;br /&gt;25. If I become a famous comedian, I most def what my entry music to be "Eastbound and Down" from Smokey and the Bandit&lt;br /&gt;26. I want to learn to drive a tractor trailer&lt;br /&gt;27. I had a job that I drove a truck (step van) for a living (i enjoyed that job)&lt;br /&gt;28. I would really like to see the interior of cinderellas castle.&lt;br /&gt;29. I want to drive a Nascar pace car, just once!&lt;br /&gt;30. I can change a tire, oil, air filter, and tune up an engine.  so there.&lt;br /&gt;31. I am starting to become more involved in the national kidney foundation&lt;br /&gt;32. I love country music&lt;br /&gt;33. I am going to vote for Barack Obama!&lt;br /&gt;34. I drive too fast.&lt;br /&gt;35. I miss my mom.&lt;br /&gt;36. I love the simple country life&lt;br /&gt;37. I need to buy a new cell phone&lt;br /&gt;38. I love Ghost Hunters and I want to be on the show!&lt;br /&gt;39. I am finally happy!&lt;br /&gt;40. I never get enough sleep.&lt;br /&gt;41. I am impatient.&lt;br /&gt;42. I love that water, fishing, boating, etc.&lt;br /&gt;43. I know all the hand motions to the camp song "Witch Doctor"&lt;br /&gt;44. I like to be early.&lt;br /&gt;45. I broke my laptop and need a new one!&lt;br /&gt;46. I still have every barbie dolls and lego set at my dads&lt;br /&gt;47. I would spend every dime i have at Best Buy and not care.&lt;br /&gt;48. I need to get some pictures done&lt;br /&gt;49. I need to work on my tact.&lt;br /&gt;50. I am too nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-245710472139982832?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/245710472139982832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=245710472139982832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/245710472139982832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/245710472139982832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/50-radom-facts-about-me.html' title='50 radom facts about me'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6950903153484057380</id><published>2008-08-20T05:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T06:02:58.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'>home</title><content type='html'>i wanna go home.  maybe surrounded by a million people i still feel all alone, i wanna go home.  I think this sums it up.  i miss my home at times.  I dont know why, but i love it there. its a simple life. tobacco fields, tractors, corn, deer.  its great.  sitting on the porch relaxing, thats the life.  you never know how much you miss until you go away for a while.  i have been gone since 1997.  i stay there on weekends, and i dont feel like its mine.  i know that one day i will inherit the house.  what am i gonna do with a house?  i will probably never move back to pitt county.  i guess we will see what happens and one day i may be there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6950903153484057380?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6950903153484057380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6950903153484057380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6950903153484057380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6950903153484057380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/home.html' title='home'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-4799307928111359193</id><published>2008-08-18T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T08:48:53.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All I ever really wanted</title><content type='html'>Girl you got me going&lt;br /&gt;Yea I think you know it&lt;br /&gt;Oh I’m ready for this ride&lt;br /&gt;So come on take my hand&lt;br /&gt;Cuz only you, you understand&lt;br /&gt;How to kick this feeling into&lt;br /&gt;Drive all night with me&lt;br /&gt;Sing my favorite song and sleep&lt;br /&gt;Under the stars on the hood of our car&lt;br /&gt;It’s all I’ve ever wanted&lt;br /&gt;All I ever wanted was to&lt;br /&gt;See you in the pale moon light&lt;br /&gt;Just the way ya look tonight&lt;br /&gt;And maybe some day&lt;br /&gt;If love comes our way&lt;br /&gt;We’ll be walking in the meadow in the early spring&lt;br /&gt;You’ll be twirling in a sundress wearing my ring&lt;br /&gt;Can you see itGirl&lt;br /&gt;I believe em that&lt;br /&gt;It’s true&lt;br /&gt;All I ever wanted&lt;br /&gt;All I ever really wanted was you&lt;br /&gt;If life is what you make it&lt;br /&gt;Here’s my chance ill take it&lt;br /&gt;You know I wanna make you mine&lt;br /&gt;I have this picture in my mind&lt;br /&gt;You were in it all the time&lt;br /&gt;So baby hold on tight&lt;br /&gt;And drive all night with me&lt;br /&gt;Sing my favorite song and sleep&lt;br /&gt;Under the stars on the hood of our car&lt;br /&gt;It’s all I’ve ever wanted&lt;br /&gt;All I ever wanted was to&lt;br /&gt;See you in the pale moon light&lt;br /&gt;Just the way ya look tonight&lt;br /&gt;And maybe some day&lt;br /&gt;If love comes our way&lt;br /&gt;We’ll be walking in the meadow in the early spring&lt;br /&gt;You’ll be twirling in a sundress wearing my ring&lt;br /&gt;Can you see it&lt;br /&gt;Girl I believe em that&lt;br /&gt;It’s true&lt;br /&gt;All I ever wanted&lt;br /&gt;All I ever really wanted was you&lt;br /&gt;All I ever wanted&lt;br /&gt;Was to see you in the pale moon light&lt;br /&gt;Just the way ya look tonight&lt;br /&gt;And maybe some day&lt;br /&gt;If love comes our way&lt;br /&gt;We’ll be walking in the meadow in the early spring&lt;br /&gt;You’ll be twirling in a sundress wearing my ring&lt;br /&gt;Can you see it&lt;br /&gt;Girl I believe em that&lt;br /&gt;It’s true&lt;br /&gt;All I ever wanted&lt;br /&gt;All I ever really wanted was you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-4799307928111359193?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/4799307928111359193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=4799307928111359193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4799307928111359193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4799307928111359193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/all-i-ever-really-wanted.html' title='All I ever really wanted'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-2115070759409408342</id><published>2008-08-15T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T06:37:25.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'>people and stupidty</title><content type='html'>so, apparently I am stupid.  i have known this for a long time.  the fact that you harp on it and make yourself feel better is not a good thing.  i understand that i am not a genuis.  in fact i have 2 college degrees.  thats right 2.  you are asking how i wound up with 2 college degrees.  i am poud of this.  i dont know how thats a bad thing.  yeah i worked hard, and i dont understand alot of thngs, but i got it done.  i have a ton of random knowledge that will get me no where in life.  i mean i could be the jeopardy champion.  i cannot let you and other people contiune to manipulate me and treat me like you do.  its as tho you get some thrill out of treating me like i am a piece of dirt.  i am going to start living with more confidence and having a "screw you" attitude.  i am going to move on with my life.  if you want to try to make me look stupid in front of the person i am dating, feel free to continue.  i honestly do not think that its gonna matter what you say at this point.  you feel as though you have to insult me, and that its gonna change me.  keep insulting me, its fine.  nothing i can do about it.  i will not answer your calls, or respond to text messages anymore.  you made your decision.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-2115070759409408342?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/2115070759409408342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=2115070759409408342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2115070759409408342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2115070759409408342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/people-and-stupidty.html' title='people and stupidty'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-1815337701672263596</id><published>2008-08-13T12:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T12:18:56.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I work for Enterprise</title><content type='html'>I work for Enterprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have advanced degree in Accounting, Public Relations, Marketing, Business, Computer Science, Civil Engineering, Auto Propulsion, and Swahili.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I have the reservation that you booked six years ago even though you don't have the confirmation number and you think that it was under a name that starts with and "X".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not a problem for me to give you a 12 passenger, non-smoking, convertible hatchback, sports car with six doors.  All front row seating, and yes, I can install a turbocharger.  I know it is my fault that we don't have one with purple leather seats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work for Enterprise.  I am expected to speak all languages.  It is obvious to me that when you booked your reservation for Friday that you really meant Saturday.  My company has entrusted me with all financial information and decisions and yes, I can tell you why your bill from March of 1987 contained a $2.00 gas charge because obviously you never pay for gas charges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work for Enterprise.  I understand that I am beneath you and anything you say surely was passed down from The Almighty Himself.  And I understand that you are far to busy to stop for 2 seconds so I can print your receipt.  And of course I will fax it to you while you try to sputter your fax number as you jump onto the shuttle.  And if you give me the wrong number and get it right away, I apologize, I should have known the number by heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that McGulicutty's Widget Manufacturing is a vast empire that will make or break our company.  Yes, I am lying to you when I say we have no more cars available.  It is not a problem for me to quickly assemble several more cars.  this time I will not forget the purple leather seats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work for Enterprise.  I am quite capable of checking three contracts in, two contracts out, taking 5 reservations, answering fifteen incoming calls and changing the oil in that blue Camry, all at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always know where to find the best vegetarian-Kosher-Mongolian barbeque restaurants.  I know exactly what to see and do in Denver in fifteen minutes without spending any money. I take personal blame for airline food, traffic jams, dirty hotel rooms and the National Economy.  I understand that your bad day or your accident, or broken down car are entirely my fault.  I realize that you meant to book your reservation here.  People often confuse us with the "Turkeylurkey Dogsled Rental of the Northern Artic Circle."  Of course I can "fit you in" and yes, you may have the special one dollar rat because you are affiliated with the Hoboken Accounting and Bagel Club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am expected to smile, empathize, sympathize, console, upsell, downsell (and of course, know when to do which), perform, sing, dance and fix the printer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work for Enterprise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-1815337701672263596?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/1815337701672263596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=1815337701672263596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1815337701672263596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1815337701672263596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-work-for-enterprise.html' title='I work for Enterprise'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-7277780419250966289</id><published>2008-08-12T07:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T12:17:57.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>olympic theories</title><content type='html'>every 4 years the olympics are held. I watched parth of the opening ceremony this year. alot of countries pariciapted. I thought we were gong to have a successfull olympics this year, then somone attacked some Americans in China. Eric Rudolph set off a bomb in Atlanta, that killed a women, and another man died of a heart attack attempting to flee the scene. I dont understand why people want to fight at the one moment when there is a moment of peace on earth. every country regardless of their hatred to another all join and show off talents that they have. Its a fair playing field for everyone. no one is coming in with more of an advantage over someone else. maybe i have a distorted picture in my head, but i know that everyone in every other country in the world is screaming at their television when their country enters a contest. i find it awfully odd that russia decided to attack the country of georgia right as the olympics started. but then again i find it odd that we cant find bin laden and he lives in a cave. i mean how many caves are there in afganistan? ok i just wanted to vent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;true story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-7277780419250966289?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/7277780419250966289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=7277780419250966289' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7277780419250966289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7277780419250966289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/olympic-theories.html' title='olympic theories'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6531856912986447648</id><published>2008-08-11T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T13:30:24.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i always wondered why the real lyrics were</title><content type='html'>these are the real lyrics to the song Informer.  I suddenly feel like I just lost half my intellegence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;You know say daddy me snow me-a (gonna) blame&lt;br /&gt;A licky boom-boom down'&lt;br /&gt;Tective man he say, say Daddy&lt;br /&gt;Me Snow me stab someone down the lane&lt;br /&gt;A licky boom-boom down&lt;br /&gt;Police-a them-a they come and-a they blow down me door&lt;br /&gt;One him come crawl through through my window&lt;br /&gt;So they put me in the back the car at the station&lt;br /&gt;From that point on I reach my destination&lt;br /&gt;Well the destination reached in down-a East detention&lt;br /&gt;Where they whip down me pants look up me bottom&lt;br /&gt;Bigger they are they think they have more power&lt;br /&gt;There on the phone me say that on hour&lt;br /&gt;Me for want to use it once and-a me call me loverLover who me callin'-a the one&lt;br /&gt;TammyAnd me love her in my heart down to my belly-a&lt;br /&gt;Yes say Daddy Me Snow me I feel cool and deadly&lt;br /&gt;Yes the one MC Shan and the one Daddy Snow&lt;br /&gt;Together we-a love 'em as a tornado&lt;br /&gt;Listen to me ya better listen for me now&lt;br /&gt;Listen to me ya better listen for me now&lt;br /&gt;When-a me rock-a the microphone, me rock on steady-a&lt;br /&gt;Yes-a Daddy Me Snow me are the article don&lt;br /&gt;But the in an a-out  a dance an they say, "Where ya come from?"&lt;br /&gt;People them say I come from Jamaica&lt;br /&gt;But me born and raised (in the ghetto)&lt;br /&gt;I want ya to know-a&lt;br /&gt;Pure black people man thats all I man know&lt;br /&gt;Yeah me shoes are-a tear up an-a my toes used to show-a&lt;br /&gt;Where me-a born in-a the one Toronto&lt;br /&gt;Come with a nice young ladyIntelligent, yes she gentle and irie&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere me go me never lef' her at all-ie&lt;br /&gt;Yes-a Daddy Snow me are the roam dance man-a&lt;br /&gt;Roam between-a dancin' in-a in-a nation-a&lt;br /&gt;You never know say Daddy Me Snow me are the boom shakata&lt;br /&gt;Me never lay-a down flat in-a one cardboard box-a&lt;br /&gt;Yes-a Daddy Me Snow me-a go reachin' out da top&lt;br /&gt;Why would he?&lt;br /&gt;Me sittin round cool with my jiggy jiggy girl&lt;br /&gt;Police knock my door, lock up my pal&lt;br /&gt;Rough me up and I cant do a thing&lt;br /&gt;Pick up my line when my telephone ring&lt;br /&gt;Take me to the station, black up my hands&lt;br /&gt;Trail me down 'cause I'm hangin with the Snowman&lt;br /&gt;What an I gonna do, I'm backed and I'm trapped&lt;br /&gt;Smack me in my face, took all of my gap&lt;br /&gt;They have no clues and they wanna get warmer&lt;br /&gt;But Shan won't turn informer&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6531856912986447648?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6531856912986447648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6531856912986447648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6531856912986447648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6531856912986447648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-always-wondered-why-real-lyrics-were.html' title='i always wondered why the real lyrics were'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3389055389669159204</id><published>2008-08-11T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T08:40:46.578-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://mommy2boyz.blogspot.com/2008/08/have-you-ever.html"&gt;Have You Ever&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got this from Karen's blog.... Have you ever...(if it is bold I have)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Touched an iceberg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;Slept under the stars&lt;/strong&gt; (Camp Don Lee pier)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Been a part of a hockey fight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;Changed a baby's diaper&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Watched a meteor shower&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;strong&gt;Given to a charity&lt;/strong&gt; (NKF)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Swam with wild dolphins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Climbed a mountain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Held a tarantula&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;strong&gt;Said "I love you" and meant it&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Bungee jumped&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Visited Paris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. &lt;strong&gt;Watched a lightning storm at sea&lt;/strong&gt; (scared me to death, nothing like a sailboat and lightening)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. &lt;strong&gt;Stayed up all night long and watched the sun rise&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Seen the Northern Lights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. &lt;strong&gt;Gone to a huge sports game &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Walked the stairs to the top of the Statue of Liberty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. &lt;strong&gt;Grown and eaten your own vegetables&lt;/strong&gt; (when mom and dad had a garden)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. &lt;strong&gt;Looked up at the night sky through a telescope&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. &lt;strong&gt;Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. &lt;strong&gt;Had a pillow fight&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Bet on a winning horse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. &lt;strong&gt;Taken a sick day when you're not ill&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Held a lamb&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Gone skinny dipping&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. &lt;strong&gt;Taken an ice cold bath &lt;/strong&gt;(when i jacked up my knee)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. &lt;strong&gt;Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Seen a total eclipse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. &lt;strong&gt;Ridden a roller coaster&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. &lt;strong&gt;Hit a home run&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. &lt;strong&gt;Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking &lt;/strong&gt;(I do this all the time)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Adopted an accent for fun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. &lt;strong&gt;Felt very happy about your life, even for just a moment&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. &lt;strong&gt;Loved your job 90% of the time&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Had enough money to be truly satisfied&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Watched wild whales&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Gone rock climbing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. &lt;strong&gt;Gone on a walk on the beach&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. &lt;strong&gt;Gone sky diving&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. Ever bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. Bench-pressed your own weight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. Milked a cow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. Alphabetized your personal files&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. Worn a superhero costume&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. &lt;strong&gt;Sung karaoke&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. &lt;strong&gt;Lounged around in bed all day&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. Gone scuba diving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. &lt;strong&gt;Kissed in the rain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. &lt;strong&gt;Played in the mud&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51. Gone to a drive-in theater&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. &lt;strong&gt;Done something you should regret&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. Visited the Great Wall of China&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. Started a business&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. Been in a movie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. &lt;strong&gt;Gone without food for 3 days  &lt;/strong&gt;(when we got stranded on a sailing trip)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57. Made cookies from scratch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58. Won first prize in a costume contest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59. Got flowers for no reason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60. Spoken more than one language fluently&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. &lt;strong&gt;Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62. &lt;strong&gt;Bounced a check&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63. Read and understood your credit report&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64. &lt;strong&gt;Found out something significant that your ancestors did&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. Called or written your Congress person&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;67. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68. Helped an animal give birth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;69. &lt;strong&gt;Been fired or laid off from a job&lt;/strong&gt; (laid off once)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. Won money&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;71. &lt;strong&gt;Broken a bone &lt;/strong&gt;(both collarbones, one twice)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;72. &lt;strong&gt;Ridden a motorcycle&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;73. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100 mph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;75. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;77. &lt;strong&gt;Had your picture in the newspaper&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78. Read the Bible cover to cover&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;79. Changed some one's mind about something you care deeply about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80. Gone back to school&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81. Changed your name&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;82. Eaten fried green tomatoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;83. &lt;strong&gt;Read The Iliad &lt;/strong&gt;(and The Odessey)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;84. Taught yourself an art from scratch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;85. &lt;strong&gt;Killed and prepared an animal for eating&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;86. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;87. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;88. Been elected to public office&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;89. &lt;strong&gt;Thought to yourself that you're living your dream&lt;/strong&gt; (every thursday at Comedy Zone)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;91. &lt;strong&gt;Dyed your hair&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;92. &lt;strong&gt;Rocked a baby to sleep&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;93. Ever dropped a cat from a high place to see if it really lands on all four&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;94. Raked your carpet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;95. Worn a mood ring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;96. Ridden a horse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;97. &lt;strong&gt;Carved an animal from a piece of wood or bar of soap&lt;/strong&gt; (a bar of soap once)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;98. Cooked a dish where four people asked for the recipe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;99. Buried a child&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;100. Gone to a Broadway play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;101. Been inside the pyramids&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;102. &lt;strong&gt;Shot a basketball into a basket&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;103. Danced at a disco&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;104. &lt;strong&gt;Played in a band&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;105. &lt;strong&gt;Shot a bird&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;106. &lt;strong&gt;Gone to an arboretum&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;107. Tutored someone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;108. &lt;strong&gt;Ridden a train&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;109. Brought an old fad back into style&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;110. Eaten caviar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;111. Let a salesman talk you into something you didn’t need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;112. Ridden a giraffe or elephant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;113. Published a book&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;114. Pieced a quilt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;115. Lived in a historic place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;116. &lt;strong&gt;Acted in a play or performed on a stage&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;117. Asked for a raise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;118. &lt;strong&gt;Made a hole-in-one mini golfing&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;119. &lt;strong&gt;Gone deep sea fishing&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;120. &lt;strong&gt;Gone roller skating &lt;/strong&gt;(spent 99% of the time on the floor, bad day)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;121. Run a marathon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;122. &lt;strong&gt;Learned to surf&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;123. Invented something&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;124. Flown first class&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;125. Spent the night in a 5-star luxury hotel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;126. Sang a solo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;127. Gone spelunking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;128. Learned how to take a compliment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;129. Written a love-story&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;130. Seen Michelangelo’s David&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;131. Had your portrait painted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;132. &lt;strong&gt;Written a fan letter&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;133. &lt;strong&gt;Spent the night in something haunted &lt;/strong&gt;(one word, Perry)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;134. Ran away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;135. Learned to juggle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;136. &lt;strong&gt;Been a boss&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;137. Sat on a jury&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;138. Lied about your weight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;139. Gone on a diet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;140. Found an arrowhead or a gold nugget&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;141. &lt;strong&gt;Written a poem&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;142. &lt;strong&gt;Carried your lunch in a lunchbox&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;143.&lt;strong&gt; Gotten food poisoning&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;144. Gone on a service, humanitarian or religious mission&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;145. &lt;strong&gt;Sat on a park bench and fed the ducks&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;146. Gone to the opera&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;147. &lt;strong&gt;Gotten a letter from someone famous &lt;/strong&gt;(new kids on the block, do they count?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;148. Worn knickers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;149. Ridden in a limousine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;150. Attended the Olympics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;151. &lt;strong&gt;Can hula or waltz &lt;/strong&gt;(waltz)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;152. Read a half dozen Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys books&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;153. Been stuck in an elevator&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;154. Had a revelatory dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;155. Thought you might crash in an airplane&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;156. Had a song dedicated to you on the radio or at a concert&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;157. Saved someone’s life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;158. Eaten raw whale&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;159. Know how to tat, smock or do needlepoint&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;160. &lt;strong&gt;Laughed till your side hurt&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;161. Straddled the equator&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;162. Taken a photograph of something other than people that is worth framing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;163. Gone to a Shakespeare Festival&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;164. Sent a message in a bottle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;165. Spent the night in a hostel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;166. &lt;strong&gt;Been a cashier&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;167. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;168. Joined a union&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;169. &lt;strong&gt;Donated blood&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;170. &lt;strong&gt;Built a campfire&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;171. &lt;strong&gt;Kept a blog&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;172. Had hives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;173. Worn custom made shoes or boots&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;174. &lt;strong&gt;Made a PowerPoint Presentation &lt;/strong&gt;(CST 499, Senior Project Seminar)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;175. &lt;strong&gt;Taken a Hunter’s Safety Course&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;176. Served at a soup kitchen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;177. Conquered the Rubik’s cube&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;178. &lt;strong&gt;Known CPR&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;179. &lt;strong&gt;Gone fishing&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;180. &lt;strong&gt;Found a long lost friend &lt;/strong&gt;(Phillip Jourdain, left when we were 12, found him on myspace)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;181. &lt;strong&gt;Voted for a contestant on American Idol or So You Think You Can Dance&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;182. Successfully convinced someone you were of a different nationality&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;183. &lt;strong&gt;Received a promotion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;184. Movie-hopped (Gone to two movies in a theater and only paying for the first movie)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;185. &lt;strong&gt;Planned a surprise party for someone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;186. Beaten all levels of a video game&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;187. Driven more than 2,500 miles on a cross-country trip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;188. &lt;strong&gt;Cried yourself to sleep&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;189. &lt;strong&gt;Stayed awake for more than 24 hours&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;190. Crossed a national border by car&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;191. &lt;strong&gt;Been to an island&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;192. Been completely out of debt (student loans, house, and all)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;193. Read a book from the Twilight series&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;94. Traveled to Italy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;195. Given birth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;196. Found a bra that fits perfectly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;197. Learned to meditate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;198. Owned your dream car&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;199. Learned to love eating raw vegetables&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;200. Seen all 50 state&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3389055389669159204?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3389055389669159204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3389055389669159204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3389055389669159204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3389055389669159204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/have-you-ever-got-this-from-karens-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-1782387055448810689</id><published>2008-08-08T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T14:33:17.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>letter to me</title><content type='html'>If I could write a letter to me&lt;br /&gt;And send it back in time to myself at 17&lt;br /&gt;First I'd prove it's me by saying look under your bed&lt;br /&gt;There's a shot gun and a letter jacket no one else would know you hid&lt;br /&gt;And then I'd say I know it's tough&lt;br /&gt;When you break up after seven months&lt;br /&gt;And yeah I know you really liked him and it just don't seem fair&lt;br /&gt;All I can say is pain like that is fast and it's rare&lt;br /&gt;And oh you got so much going for you going right&lt;br /&gt;But I know at 17 it's hard to see past Friday night&lt;br /&gt;Sean wasn't right for you&lt;br /&gt;And still you feel like there's a knife sticking out of your back&lt;br /&gt;And you're wondering if you'll survive&lt;br /&gt;You'll make it through this and you'll see&lt;br /&gt;You're still around to write this letter to me&lt;br /&gt;At the stop sign at Country Club and 903,&lt;br /&gt;Always stop completely don't just tap your breaks&lt;br /&gt;And when you get a date with Amie make sure the tank is full&lt;br /&gt;On second thought forget it that one turns out kinda cool&lt;br /&gt;Each and every time you have a fight&lt;br /&gt;Just assume you're wrong and mom is right&lt;br /&gt;And you should really thank Mrs. Hines&lt;br /&gt;She spent so much extra time&lt;br /&gt;It's like she sees the diamond underneath&lt;br /&gt;And she's polishin' you 'til you shine&lt;br /&gt;And oh you got so much going for you going right&lt;br /&gt;But I know at 17 it's hard to see past Friday night&lt;br /&gt;Tonight's the homeocming game&lt;br /&gt;But you're staying home instead because if you fail Algebra&lt;br /&gt;Mom will kill you dead&lt;br /&gt;Trust me you'll squeak by and get a C&lt;br /&gt;And you're still around to write this letter to me&lt;br /&gt;You've got so much up ahead&lt;br /&gt;You'll make new friends&lt;br /&gt;And I'd end by saying have no fear&lt;br /&gt;These are nowhere near the best years of your life&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'll see you in the mirror&lt;br /&gt;When you're a grown man&lt;br /&gt;P.S. go hug Uncle Steve every chance you can&lt;br /&gt;And oh you got so much going for you going right&lt;br /&gt;But I know at 17 it's hard to see past Friday night&lt;br /&gt;I wish you wouldn't worry, let it be&lt;br /&gt;I'd say have a little faith and you'll see&lt;br /&gt;If I could write a letter to me&lt;br /&gt;To me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-1782387055448810689?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/1782387055448810689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=1782387055448810689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1782387055448810689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1782387055448810689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/letter-to-me.html' title='letter to me'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6517504045840639771</id><published>2008-08-08T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T14:21:52.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>when i finally swallow my pride</title><content type='html'>i tend to think that i am a pretty good person.  i have a good head on my shoulders, and i have a good personality.  what is it gonna take for me to swallow my pride and ask for help?  when i need/want help i never ask for it.  why do i not ask?  i dont know.  i am wierd like that.  i have always had too much pride when it came to things like my family, and my lifestyle.  maybe i should just slow down, and start sleeping at night, eating during the day, and saying fuck it to everything that goes wrong.  i feel like i live in a shadow at times.  i will never be as good as some people.  i am alwasy following the leader.  i have lived in a shadow since i was born.  when is that gonna change?  i dont know if it ever will.  i thought graduating from college would help, but iw as wrong.  i am going ot get a masters degree one day.  i keep saying that i will, and now i now that i can, i just dont know when.  i always had the dream of going to the University of Tenneesse Knoxville  (Go Volunteers!)  (Rocky Top).  i wanted to be a Lady Volunteer, and wear the orange and blue.  unfortunatly, my athletic eligibilty is over, and i can no longer play college sports.  oh well. my knees couldnt take it anyway!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6517504045840639771?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6517504045840639771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6517504045840639771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6517504045840639771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6517504045840639771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/when-i-finally-swallow-my-pride.html' title='when i finally swallow my pride'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-260073996233542278</id><published>2008-08-06T04:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T06:00:20.154-07:00</updated><title type='text'>forever seems so long</title><content type='html'>so, i am in a situation that i want to last forever.  forever is a big word.  its a word that i feel like i shouldnt be saying.  i have never felt like this before.  i have been in relationships that i wanted to last for a long time.  dont get me wrong, but i want this one to LAST.  i seem to be the issue in most of my relationships.  people seem to blame me for everything.  i take the fall for it too.  by taking the fall i mean, i will agree when you tell me i was wrong.  i apologize for everything, even stuff i didnt do. &lt;br /&gt;i am hopeless, in that, i have these really romantic ideas in my head, but how often do they play out?  i am trying so hard with this one.  i really want to make it work. i have been happy inthe past with people i dated, but this one feels so different.  part of me feels like a teenager thats in love for the first time, the other part of me wants to grab on and not let go.  its been so long since i have felt anything  ike this at all.  there is always the fear of getting to close to someone to let someone know you completly.  i have changed alot over the past 6 years and i am scared to have someone know me completely.  there are a couple of peple in my life who know more than enough about me. i guess its a risk worth taking.  for someone to know me completly and be ok with me and loving me for me.  knowning me for who i am not who they want me to be.  i will change and do things that make the person i am wiht happy.  becasue if she is not happy i am not happy.  so i will change things about myself.  there are things that can never change tho.  i dont want for anyone to ever think that my family is not important when they are the most important and only thing i have thats a constant in my life.&lt;br /&gt;if she is happy i am happy. i will do whatever it takes to make sure she is happy.  if that showing up wiht flowers becasue she doesnt feel well, to letting her cry on my shoulder.  whatever it takes is what i am prepared to do. love is such an interesting emotion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-260073996233542278?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/260073996233542278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=260073996233542278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/260073996233542278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/260073996233542278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/forever-seems-so-long.html' title='forever seems so long'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6213803278052932110</id><published>2008-08-02T07:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T07:23:09.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Upper Middle Class White Trash</title><content type='html'>I just got off, work at 5,&lt;br /&gt;drivin' that ol' van I drive,&lt;br /&gt;overalls, and dirty boots,&lt;br /&gt;but Uncle Bill needed a funeral suit,&lt;br /&gt;so when I walked in that fancy store,&lt;br /&gt;they looked at me like I was poor,&lt;br /&gt;but a wad of hundred dollar bills caused a stir,&lt;br /&gt;it went from “don't take checks” to “right away, yes sir” !&lt;br /&gt;Upper middle class white trash, my pockets can't hold all my cash,&lt;br /&gt;'cause one day I stopped to pee,&lt;br /&gt;got some gas and won the lottery,&lt;br /&gt;now I've invested in my neighborhood,&lt;br /&gt;my friends and family,&lt;br /&gt;there all livin' pretty good,&lt;br /&gt;a trailer park full of Cadillacs,&lt;br /&gt;an upper middle class white trash .&lt;br /&gt;I got my home-boy Chris,&lt;br /&gt;a brand new shop,&lt;br /&gt;for all those cars on cinder blocks,&lt;br /&gt;and cousin Charlie thinks its cool to keep a large mouth bass in his new swimmin' pool,&lt;br /&gt;I had a birthday party for mama last night,&lt;br /&gt;in her ninety and a half foot triple wide,&lt;br /&gt;you ain't seen nothin' if you ain't seen NASCAR on a sixty inch plasma screen!&lt;br /&gt;Upper middle class white trash,&lt;br /&gt;my pockets cant hold all my cash,&lt;br /&gt;'cause one day I stopped to pee,&lt;br /&gt;got some gas and won the lottery,&lt;br /&gt;now I've invested in my neighborhood,&lt;br /&gt;my friends and family,&lt;br /&gt;there all livin' pretty good,&lt;br /&gt;a trailer park full of Cadillacs,&lt;br /&gt;an upper middle class white trash .&lt;br /&gt;Buyin' chicken wings by the buckets,&lt;br /&gt;we can't eat 'em all so we just say chuck it,&lt;br /&gt;all the miller light you can handle,&lt;br /&gt;a hundred and fifty seven movie channels.&lt;br /&gt;Upper middle class white trash,&lt;br /&gt;your pockets cant hold all our cash,&lt;br /&gt;'cause one day I stopped to pee,&lt;br /&gt;got some gas and won the lottery,&lt;br /&gt;now I've invested in my neighborhood,&lt;br /&gt;my friends and family,&lt;br /&gt;there all livin' pretty good,&lt;br /&gt;a trailer park full of Cadillacs,&lt;br /&gt;an upper middle class white trash .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6213803278052932110?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6213803278052932110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6213803278052932110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6213803278052932110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6213803278052932110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/08/upper-middle-class-white-trash.html' title='Upper Middle Class White Trash'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3311501257444700493</id><published>2008-07-29T07:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T07:04:36.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the radio keeps playing the same song over and over</title><content type='html'>Why is it that I hear the same songs on the radio over and over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3311501257444700493?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3311501257444700493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3311501257444700493' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3311501257444700493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3311501257444700493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/radio-keeps-playing-same-song-over-and.html' title='the radio keeps playing the same song over and over'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-2528989822759553411</id><published>2008-07-25T10:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T10:41:33.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>between the work and the hurt and the whiskey</title><content type='html'>so, apparently work is going well.  i dont see it.  i am being told tho that is going good.  i dont know.  how can i when i have no cars.  no cars. no cars no cars.  do you see a pattern forming? i do.  oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-2528989822759553411?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/2528989822759553411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=2528989822759553411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2528989822759553411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2528989822759553411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/between-work-and-hurt-and-whiskey.html' title='between the work and the hurt and the whiskey'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3185488759743192474</id><published>2008-07-18T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T12:43:00.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cowboy in me</title><content type='html'>I don't know why I act the way I do&lt;br /&gt;Like I ain't got a single thing to lose&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's just the cowboy in me&lt;br /&gt;I got a life that most would love to have&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes I still wake up fightin' mad&lt;br /&gt;At where this road I'm heading down might lead&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's just the cowboy in me&lt;br /&gt;The urge to run, the restlessness&lt;br /&gt;The heart of stone I sometimes get&lt;br /&gt;The things I've done for foolish pride&lt;br /&gt;The me that's never satisfied&lt;br /&gt;The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's just the cowboy in me&lt;br /&gt;The urge to run, the restlessness&lt;br /&gt;The heart of stone I sometimes get&lt;br /&gt;The things I've done for foolish pride&lt;br /&gt;The me that's never satisfied&lt;br /&gt;The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's just the cowboy in me&lt;br /&gt;Girl I know there's times you must have thought&lt;br /&gt;There ain't a line you've drawn&lt;br /&gt;I haven't crossed&lt;br /&gt;But you set your mind to see this love on through&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's just the cowboy in you&lt;br /&gt;We ride and never worry about the fall&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's just the cowboy in us all&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3185488759743192474?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3185488759743192474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3185488759743192474' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3185488759743192474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3185488759743192474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/cowboy-in-me.html' title='cowboy in me'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-7715484779406865631</id><published>2008-07-18T05:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T06:03:23.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>more random thoughts in my head</title><content type='html'>525600 journeys to plan how often do I cry?not enough a year. watching the kids grow up is wonderful but heartwrenching at the same time. I cant have kids, so everytime I see my nephews, I cry a little. I promised them a little cousin one day. Their cousin may very well be a Golden Retriver named Poncho Libre. I am listening to my Ipod. Its actually playing a Christman song. The sad thing is that I just rocked out to Whitney Houston singing Joy to the World. Ok, on to a new topic. I havent been feeling well lately. I have a couple doctors appointments next week. Maybe we can figure this all out. i dont say much about not feeling well. I have had the same metallic taste in my mouth for the past week. I had it last time I wound up in the ER for my stomach ulcer. I am hoping that its not back, but it very well could be. I weighed myself on Christmas Morning and I weighed 175, as of today I am 125. I dont know how I feel about this, espically since none of my clothes fit. The doctor and I will be discussing this too. I mean I wanted to lose some weight, but not like that. When I had the flu, I dropped about 10 pounds in a week. Then again I couldnt hold down food, so I figured that I would lose some weight. Wow. My Ipod is playing My Cherie Amour by Stevie Wonder. Its making me into more of a sap than normal! My dad and I talked last night about second chances. He asked what I thought about second chances. Well this is a good a forum as any I guess. I believe in second chances in some instances. I think that my drinking myself to death and managing to stop drinking was a second chance. I got a second chance to get my life right and get it out of the chaos it was headed for. I do believe that Caleb and Ian being born was a second chance for me. I had something to live for, and someone who would look up to me. I needed to get it right, the first time, since there would be no second chance. In a relationship tho, you should never have to ask for a second chance. If you can't/don't get it right the first time, what makes you think that you will the second time? Of course you will have your share of disagreements, we all do. Just don't let it get out of hand. If it's your fault say you are sorry. Sometimes saying your sorry won't help a situation. I am a personal fan of sending flowers or doing something sweet if I screw up. Most people seem to think that I will screw up in relationships, but I think I am finally getting the hang of it. All that I ask for, is just listen to me if I am upset and dont judge who I am because of where I am from. My family has a proud tradition of farming, and I have the upmost respect for it. So , don't insult it and we will be good. Some people change, not nessicarly for the better. I have changed over the past 2 years, and over the past 6 years. 6 years ago I was a mess of a person, working going to college in a very toxic relationship. (Which ended badly, very badly). I will be the first to admit that I have grown up alot over the past few years. I managed to nail down a good job and a good chance to make it. I have gotten alot farther that alot of people thought I would. At my class reunion, people were like, so you are working for a company, being successful? Who knew? I was voted most comical in school by the way, I know its shocking! More Stevie Wonder on the Ipod! I just called to say i love you. What a great song! I am a sap and I am the kind of person who would call and say hey, i love you, then hang up! HA. I need a second job. I have been helping out at my friends shop working on cars. I want him to hire me so I can work on weekends. Yeah, all I do is work, I am good at it. I told him that I would drive the wrecker for him at night if he wanted me too. I dont mind driving somewhere and towing a car. Just put it on the rollback and go. Thats all. Plus! I get another shirt with my name on it. Thats exciting. You gotta admit thats exciting. I need cars. I wanted to mention that I miss my cousin. She moved to Charleston with the kids. I miss them, I need to go to see her. She is my best friend, and has been there through it all. The chaos at UNC-Greensboro, me coming out, when mom died. I honestly think that if she hadn't be there that day with me and dad, that I would have lost it completly. Ok, now I am rambling. So, yeah I still cant believe the New Kids on the Block are back. I feel like I should do the New Kids dance. HA. Thats something to see on the camera at work.....yeah..... Maybe tonight at Time Out I can convince them to play something New Kids. I am a dork. Wow. I need cars.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-7715484779406865631?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/7715484779406865631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=7715484779406865631' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7715484779406865631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7715484779406865631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/more-random-thoughts-in-my-head.html' title='more random thoughts in my head'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3124071074286696650</id><published>2008-07-18T04:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T08:43:10.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know what I was thinking when I seen her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had to find a way I could meet her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause I've been dying for the chance just to treat her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the ripe little peach she is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't even cross my mind to deceive her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But she could lie through her teeth and I'd believe her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know her but I know that I need her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't think she's got a notion but&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the girl I've been telling you about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aint she everything I said and a whole lot more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She got it going on and I never want to be without her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the girl I've been telling you about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's been spinning in my head like a revolving doorHer smile is like the sun and my wholeworld revolves around herI don't even think she knows how she moves meI can't explain it but she does something to meIf she ever looked she'd see right through meAnd I don't think that I could keep my coolI could tell her that I want to get to know herTake her places that I'd really like to show herBut I hear she's got somebody and he loves herAnd I don't think he's got a notion butThat's the girl I've been telling you aboutAint she everything I said and a whole lot moreShe's got it going on and I never want to be without herThat's the girl I've been telling you aboutShe's been living in my head like a recurring dreamHer smile is like the sun and my wholeworld revolves around herShe lives in my head from the start of my day till nightAnd every word that she says I'm hanging on to so tightThat's the girl I've been telling you about Aint she everything I said could you need much moreShe's got it going on and I never want to be without herThat's the girl I've been telling you aboutShe's been reigning in my head like a pouring stormHer smile is like the sun and my whole world revolves around herLike a soul in the wind I've beenlost since the day I found herWhat I'd give to be everything she needs like the air around herGot my arms open wide wish she knewthey belong around her&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3124071074286696650?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3124071074286696650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3124071074286696650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3124071074286696650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3124071074286696650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-dont-know-what-i-was-thinking-when-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3969692007295677970</id><published>2008-07-17T11:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T12:00:59.072-07:00</updated><title type='text'>mud run</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SH-WqYPiuYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6jOFIWMLmOw/s1600-h/mud+run!.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224059747579378050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SH-WqYPiuYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6jOFIWMLmOw/s320/mud+run!.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, hows that for a mud run truck?  I think its great! .  And you all know I would drive the hell out of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3969692007295677970?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3969692007295677970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3969692007295677970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3969692007295677970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3969692007295677970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/mud-run.html' title='mud run'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SH-WqYPiuYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6jOFIWMLmOw/s72-c/mud+run!.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6032228643744710896</id><published>2008-07-17T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T08:51:30.621-07:00</updated><title type='text'>drivin my life away</title><content type='html'>my friend Wesley drives a 18-wheeler. I am gonna ride with him in a few weeks to Texas and back in 3 days. This should be interesting. He said that this is a NO sightseeing tour! I said thats only fair. I have been to Texas and I have seen the sights in Dallas and Plano that I wanted to see. I saw Southfork Ranch (Dallas), and The Texas School Book Depository. I have my own theory about that, but thats another thought for another time. If had to move to Texas, i think I would be fine, its nice there......just hot. it was hot when i was there. it was also August.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How are we gonna get to Texas and back in 3 days? Thats what I wanna know. he is the expert tho.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6032228643744710896?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6032228643744710896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6032228643744710896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6032228643744710896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6032228643744710896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/drivin-my-life-away.html' title='drivin my life away'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-7261391893891420113</id><published>2008-07-17T08:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T08:16:55.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>beer and gasoline</title><content type='html'>its sad that beer is now cheaper than gasoline.  i just wanted to share that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-7261391893891420113?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/7261391893891420113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=7261391893891420113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7261391893891420113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7261391893891420113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/beer-and-gasoline.html' title='beer and gasoline'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-918003681449638773</id><published>2008-07-16T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T13:29:03.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'>if I ever had to write the story of my life</title><content type='html'>My mind is reeling, and my head is spining. how can one person make my head spin.  i like it.  except for the getting up to fast part and being dizzy, but its growing on me.  i am trying not to screw up.  I am saying what I need to say, and trying to make it clear.  My thoughts are usually and incoherent mess.  Much like my desk at work. Its a disaster.  Oh well. &lt;br /&gt;I put in for my vacation time today.  I am not gonna be going anywhere, except to see my dad for a few days.  I will be out of commision for several weeks later this year so I am gonna take one week that is worry free.  I am taking it after Sept. 7th. (hunting season opens).  I am sure I will spend a day or two in the top of a tree.  We will see.  I need to go get muddy soon.  Be it in the mud run in the old Chevy or on the 4-wheeler.  I always feel better when I go out and get dirty, or get grease on me.  i need to change the oil in my car and get it inspected too.  i keep forgetting.  my car needs to be detailed (both of them, when the Buick gets out of the shop) and i said i would wash some other cars too.  so, I plan to spend my saturday working on cars.  be it underneath them or working on the motor or cleaning them.  other than those few plans i have nothing planned for the weekend.  drag show on friday night, probably something saturday night.  i dont know what yet, but something. most likely, Time Out with Korbalicious.  we shall see. ok off to rent more cars I dont have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-918003681449638773?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/918003681449638773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=918003681449638773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/918003681449638773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/918003681449638773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/if-i-ever-had-to-write-story-of-my-life.html' title='if I ever had to write the story of my life'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-1313556623753584122</id><published>2008-07-16T05:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T05:40:16.387-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dance class</title><content type='html'>i am thinking about taking a dance class.  i know its cheesy but i want too.  i wanna be able to do all those dances that i did cotilion.  i am a dork. i know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-1313556623753584122?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/1313556623753584122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=1313556623753584122' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1313556623753584122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1313556623753584122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/dance-class.html' title='dance class'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-7183667773363639967</id><published>2008-07-15T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T09:29:27.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the gospel gun</title><content type='html'>So, I dont know where that title came from.  yeah i do. it came from the song Sunday in the South.  I am trying to get cars.  I have a reservation at 5pm, and have no car.  NO CAR! Its been like this all day.  I am trying to find someone to give me a car, but no one will.  its making me mad.  Oh well.  Nothing i can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its to the point where i am gonna have to take my car and part it somewhere and hope that i have a way to get to my car tonight.  thats not a good thing tho.  people dont understand that I would rather no drive my mazdaroddy all over to get a car, and then be taking the shoelace express back. Oh well.  It will all work out.  My area Manager is helping me to find cars.  he said he would call right back.  I havent heard from him.  Oh well.  What can I do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-7183667773363639967?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/7183667773363639967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=7183667773363639967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7183667773363639967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7183667773363639967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/gospel-gun.html' title='the gospel gun'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-2443490562859925917</id><published>2008-07-15T05:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T09:31:31.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>somewhere in the vicinty of the heart</title><content type='html'>Thousand miles&lt;br /&gt;Of lonesome highway&lt;br /&gt;Drinking gallons of coffee in a little cafe&lt;br /&gt;Brought me here, and it's so good to find there's someone who's got&lt;br /&gt;The same story as mine&lt;br /&gt;Just look at us, we're a couple hard cases&lt;br /&gt;So how'd we end up where we are?&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in the vicinity of the heart&lt;br /&gt;I feel somethin hittin me awful hard&lt;br /&gt;I don't know where it's callin me&lt;br /&gt;Well I just know it starts&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in the vicinity of the heart&lt;br /&gt;Been so long&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe I'd get somethin so sweet&lt;br /&gt;Where an ache used to be, don't fall&lt;br /&gt;If love anymore but I'd never met anyone like you before&lt;br /&gt;Stay here with me for a couple more weeks&lt;br /&gt;I think there's somethin goin' on&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in the vicinity of the heart&lt;br /&gt;I feel somethin hittin me awful hard&lt;br /&gt;Don't know where it's callin me&lt;br /&gt;I just know it starts&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in the vicinity of the heart&lt;br /&gt;Well it sure took a while to find it&lt;br /&gt;It's been waiting there all this time&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in the vicinity of the heart&lt;br /&gt;I feel somethin hittin me awful hard&lt;br /&gt;Don't know where it's callin me&lt;br /&gt;Well I just know it starts&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in the vicinity of the heart&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in the vicinity of the heart&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-2443490562859925917?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/2443490562859925917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=2443490562859925917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2443490562859925917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2443490562859925917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/somewhere-in-vicinty-of-heart.html' title='somewhere in the vicinty of the heart'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5082450640657708160</id><published>2008-07-14T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T11:57:52.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'>relentless</title><content type='html'>people talk.  i hate it.  i am starting to pull away all over again.  i cant get into this spiral again.  i am starting too.  i cant fight it or hide it, its relentless.  i dont know what to do anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5082450640657708160?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5082450640657708160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5082450640657708160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5082450640657708160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5082450640657708160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/relentless.html' title='relentless'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5854487368263329229</id><published>2008-07-10T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T13:28:47.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'>working thru fears</title><content type='html'>i am scared to death to get close to people.  we either have to be related or good friends.  i have problems with opening up to people.  i keep trying but something in me wont let me close to people.  i guess i need to knock down all the walls that surround me, simply because no one can do it for me.  i have to do this on my own. when i meet someone i try to maintain my sanity and not show parts of me.  i dont wanna anyone to see the angry side of me, or the former alcholic side of me.  both of those are not good things for me.  i have worked thru both of those however. i worked thru being an alcoholic.  most people would have pegged me as a drunk more than an alcoholic.  i drank alot, and frequently for a long period of time.  i was sober for over 2 years before i took a drink at a party.  i did stop after one drink.  i was the worst kind of alcohlic.  i started to drink and didnt stop.  i drank for days at a time, and hid it quite well.  i chewed alot of gum and didnt really talk to people.  i was working at sears so it was easy to hide.  i started to sober up when i began working for cintas.  working a job that requires you to drive everywhere, is not contusive to drinking.  the other major factor was two small children named Caleb and Ian.  my cousins.  i love those kids and i want to be a positive role model for them.  i want them to be able to look up to me.  i cant have children of my own, so they are the ones that mean the most to me.  dont get me wrong, if i ever have a partner that has children, i am sure that i would get attached to them. i just want someone to be able to take care of me when i am old.  i dont wanna be the old person in the nursing home with no family.  i am headed in that direction already.  i am trying to stop it at the pass. &lt;br /&gt;i think i am just gonna let me heart take the lead for a change.  it is something that i need to do.  thinking with my head has got me nowhere.  i am gonna start thinking with my heart.  while this may be a bad idea, i am still gonna do it.  i am gonna see where it takes me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5854487368263329229?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5854487368263329229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5854487368263329229' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5854487368263329229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5854487368263329229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/working-thru-fears.html' title='working thru fears'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-2039792492481106387</id><published>2008-07-10T05:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T05:10:43.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>being strong</title><content type='html'>Its been almost 6 years since my mom died.  I still miss her.  I miss her alot.  Its hard to explain really.  One day shes there and the next shes not.  It rocked me, I am not gonna deny that.  I was 23 years old. Thats too young to lose a parent. Well, any age is too young to lose a parent.  My mom lost her parents at 13 and 17, so she knows how it felt.  However, we cant really talk about it can we?  I almost cant believe its been 6 years.  Sometimes I feel like it was yesterday and sometimes I feel like it was 10 years ago.  I have so much going on in my life right now that I would like for her to be a part of.  Oh well, there is nothing that I can do at this point.  I just miss her, and it still hurts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-2039792492481106387?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/2039792492481106387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=2039792492481106387' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2039792492481106387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2039792492481106387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/being-strong.html' title='being strong'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-591632454603867997</id><published>2008-07-09T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T10:23:55.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Navy</title><content type='html'>I just had a navy recruiter call me.  Is it to late for me to join?  I would just do the reserves, then work my 2 weeks a year and one weekend a month.  I know people think it is a stupid idea, but I am considering it.  I mean then I will have 2 paychecks each month, and my life will be stable.  for a change.  I know my knee isnt strong enough for it, but I can start working out ALOT.  I will never see the world, so here is my chance.  I know that I would have at least one tour. I wouldnt be able to pick where either.   I need to find out if my employer would be ok with this.  I dont know.  I know that they will give you time off if you are already in the military.  I dont know if the 6 weeks of basic and 6 weeks of school would be bad.  Thats several months.  I wouldnt be able to see my family, and that sucks.  I think it would make me a better person, and I would come out as a second lieutenat.  Then I could work thru it for 20 years and retire at 49, thats pretty cool right there.  Retire full pension.  My partner (if I had one) would never get any benefits tho.  Stupid system.  The bonus that I would get for signing up is pretty good tho.  I took that ASVAB for a recruiter a few years ago, and I scored the highest in auto mechanics.  Go figure. HA.  I would want to do something communications related, or mechanical.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-591632454603867997?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/591632454603867997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=591632454603867997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/591632454603867997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/591632454603867997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/navy.html' title='Navy'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-897710550436096116</id><published>2008-07-09T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T07:41:59.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love and Gravity</title><content type='html'>Love and gravity&lt;br /&gt;Havin' their way with me&lt;br /&gt;Her faith in me&lt;br /&gt;Is in a tailspin&lt;br /&gt;Heart look out below&lt;br /&gt;Hold on 'cause here we go&lt;br /&gt;Free fallin' from her good graces again&lt;br /&gt;Free fallin' from her good graces again&lt;br /&gt;Out on the edge&lt;br /&gt;That's where I fly&lt;br /&gt;I've gotten good at landin' on her bad side&lt;br /&gt;Words of regret&lt;br /&gt;Haven't bailed me out yet&lt;br /&gt;Love and gravity&lt;br /&gt;Havin' their way with me&lt;br /&gt;Her faith in me&lt;br /&gt;Is in a tailspin&lt;br /&gt;Heart look out below&lt;br /&gt;Hold on 'cause here we go&lt;br /&gt;Free fallin' from her good graces again&lt;br /&gt;Free fallin' from her good graces again&lt;br /&gt;I'm in way deep&lt;br /&gt;Every day of the week&lt;br /&gt;Love and gravity&lt;br /&gt;Havin' their way with me&lt;br /&gt;Her faith in me&lt;br /&gt;Is in a tailspin&lt;br /&gt;Heart look out below&lt;br /&gt;Hold on 'casue here we go&lt;br /&gt;Free fallin' from her good graces again&lt;br /&gt;Free fallin' from her good graces again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-897710550436096116?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/897710550436096116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=897710550436096116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/897710550436096116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/897710550436096116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/love-and-gravity.html' title='Love and Gravity'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-4286093449629950678</id><published>2008-07-08T07:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T14:18:08.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my life has been a country song</title><content type='html'>Don't think I don't think about it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't think I don't have regrets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't think it don't get to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between the work, and the hurt and the whiskey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't think I don't worry about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what I felt I know what i said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But don't think I don't think about it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We make choices we gotta live with them&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-4286093449629950678?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/4286093449629950678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=4286093449629950678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4286093449629950678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4286093449629950678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-life-has-been-country-song.html' title='my life has been a country song'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-4117703742746926924</id><published>2008-07-08T07:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T07:33:15.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Arent we all still learning how to bend?</title><content type='html'>I'm still learning how to pray&lt;br /&gt;Trying hard not to stray&lt;br /&gt;Try to see things your way&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to pray&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to trust&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard to open up&lt;br /&gt;And I'd do anything for us&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to trust&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to bend&lt;br /&gt;How to let you in&lt;br /&gt;In a world full of tears&lt;br /&gt;We'll conquer all our fears&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to fly&lt;br /&gt;I wanna take you higher&lt;br /&gt;I'll be there till the end&lt;br /&gt;I'll be your lover and your friend&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to bend&lt;br /&gt;I'm just trying to understand&lt;br /&gt;It's all in someone else's hands&lt;br /&gt;There's always been a bigger plan&lt;br /&gt;But I don't need to understand&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to bend&lt;br /&gt;How to let you in&lt;br /&gt;In a world full of tears&lt;br /&gt;We'll conquer all our fears&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to fly&lt;br /&gt;I wanna take you higher&lt;br /&gt;I'll be there till the end&lt;br /&gt;I'll be your lover and your friend&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to bend&lt;br /&gt;I'll be there till the end&lt;br /&gt;I'll be your lover and your friend&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to bend&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to bend&lt;br /&gt;I'll be there till the end&lt;br /&gt;I'm still learning how to bend&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-4117703742746926924?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/4117703742746926924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=4117703742746926924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4117703742746926924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4117703742746926924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/arent-we-all-still-learning-how-to-bend.html' title='Arent we all still learning how to bend?'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-8177891120542621055</id><published>2008-07-07T07:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T08:29:05.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'>random thoughts inside my head</title><content type='html'>What happens when you send someone flowers?  Why did Ford put the gas tank to the Pinto under the seat?  I need cars.  Why cant people in the company learn to respect me?  Why is Lauren so hateful to me?  Who knew I could kill it at comedy?  Why is Michael Jackon the greatest entertainer in the world?  (thats just my opinion).  Why cant I make more money?  Who knew I was gonna get promoted? (surprised the heck out of me).  Why am I so shy when I meet a girl I like?  I mean I like girls.  Why is this a issue?  I learned a new dance this weekend, the Cupid Shuffle.  Song is stuck in my head.  It was fun but I was sweating, like bad.  Now it is back in my head. Damnit.  Korb and I went to Time Out.  I call her Korbalicious.  Everyone gets a nickname with me.  For example: Shannon is Trophy Wife, Korb is Korbalicious, Will is Big Willie Style, Drew is Drewsel. There are others that I am in the process of thinking of.  Even cars get nicknames.  My Mazda for example carried the nickname of Mazdaroddy.   The Buick is Bessie.  I couldnt get creative on that one.  I need a CD player for it really bad.  I have a radio hooked up at work, I dont know if thats a good idea, but otherwise I will be asleep on the desk.  I am getting a second job.  I dont know what I am gonna do. I will probably go paint cars and my friends shop.  Maybe some body work.  We will see.  One of my dreams is to own a shop behind a house and restore a truck.  I also want one that I can use to play in the mud.  The thoughts in my head are very random.  I got a haircut yesterday.  I am bring all types of sexy back.  HAHAHAHAHHA.  It is cute, its short.  I like it. Good job, April.  I have a swoof on my head! I need cars.  The other day I realized that my life is a country song.  Seriously.  My birthmom was in prison, and I got drunk and went to pick her up in the rain.  Not really, but David Allen Coe is on point with the song.  ESQI just came out.  Not good not good.  I need cars.  I seriously need cars.  Why did Mike not tell anyone he has been in town for 2 months?  I wanna slap him just for that.  Its not cool to be dragging my best friend around like that.  Mike and I must have a talk now.  Ha. I am about to drive my car to winston to get a car, but how am I gonna get back?  This is stressful.  I cant keep pushing this customer back.  I am worried that he is gonna get mad.  There is nothing I can do at this point.  My office is beside a Chinese resturant.  I am not impressed. The owner says I am using her parking spots and yelled at me about it last week.  That reminds me, my NEW aunt arrives via airplane on July 24th.  I am NOT gonna be at the airport for this one.  Honestly I dont care, that shes coming in.  I know it will be entertaining, and thats what I am looking forward to the sheer entertainment of it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-8177891120542621055?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/8177891120542621055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=8177891120542621055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8177891120542621055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/8177891120542621055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/07/random-thoughts-inside-my-head.html' title='random thoughts inside my head'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5796138535771407529</id><published>2008-06-30T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T09:37:39.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mistress Daughter</title><content type='html'>I spend the better part of my weekend reading a book.  The Mistress Daughter by A.M. Homes.   It hit me hard.  She was adopted and met her birthparents, much like i have.  It was almost to real to me.  There were a few lines in the book that made me think about my situation, my birthmom and my adoptive mom.  " I am not my adoptive mothers child, I am not my birthmothers child, I am a amaglam."  I can see the meaning in this one. I understand what the book is saying. As an adopted child, we know our adoptive parents, They are our family they are our life. &lt;br /&gt;My birthparents.  Donna and Berle.  Berle was a travelling salesman. What he was selling, I am not quite sure.  Insurance I think.  So, they met through a mutal friend.  He was almost twenty years older than her. They would meet at the Lemon Tree Inn in Chocowinity.  (I think its still there).  I would drive past that hotel everytime my parents and I would go to our trailer at Blounts Creek.  Had I known, I would have been uncomfortable.  They meet at the Lemon Tree Inn (according to what I was told) once every couple of weeks.  They thought they were in "love".   Let me rephrase, Donna thought she was in love.    Berle was married and had a son, (David, my half-brother).  They already had one child. Kenneth.  They gave him up in 1974.  Then Malcolm and I come along in 1979. &lt;br /&gt;My birthmother. I did some research and found that my birthmom had spend some time in Prison.  That really upset me.  I would have been a ward of the state regardless.  Even if she hadnt given me up I would have been taken when that happened.  This is not something she ever told, i had to find this out on my own.  She did tell me that she was an alcohlic at one point.  (Already over came that one!)  My birthmother liked to tell me that I had the fat gene.  She was a bit overweight.  About 400+ pounds when I met her.  She had gastic bypass to lose the weight.  I weight about 150, so that is alot different from 400+.  She did manage to lose alot of weight, she weighted less than me for a while.  She had been married when I met her.  She got divorced and then had a second husband.   They adopted a girl in 1999.  It bothered me that someone who gave away children for adoption was allowed to adopt later in life.  This made me question the system.  She did alot of drugs over the years, and I know she drank while pregnant.  I think that one of the reasons that I have learning disabiltites is from some of this.  I remember telling her that I have a learning disablity and was a little slower with learning that some people.  She immediately got defensive and was like that doesnt run in my family. &lt;br /&gt;I met her in a Barnes and Nobles bookstore with my exgirlfriend , Jill.  I made Jill go with me so that I wouldnt have to face anything alone.  Jill went and found her and her husband.  they came around the corner and every picture/mental image in my head was shattered.  She was crying.  I wasnt.  She took Jill and I to dinner, and I cant really remember where.  I know that earlier that day I was worried about what to wear.  Jill told me that it wouldnt matter, but for some reason I felt that I should impress this woman who had given me away.  I still remember what I wore that night.  Kahkis and a blue collared shirt.  Dress shoes, and a jacket.  It was cold.    After the dinner and the meeting, Jill and I climbed into her CRX and went back to her apartment in Raleigh.  I was awake most of that night trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened. I was suddenly becoming angry with the situation. &lt;br /&gt;My birthfather.  He is old.  He was in his 40's when I was born.  He owned a charter fishing boat off of Hatteras for years.  He has since retired and sold his boat.  He now owns (according to the internet, and my friend who was introduced to him, and put two and two together) a wooden bird shop.  He sells wooden birds that he carves.  I have absolutly NO artistic talent.  I can barely draw a stick figure.   He has been married mutliple times.  Maybe I have those genes and thats why I cant seem to settle down. I hope not tho.  He told me on the phone once that he was a good christian man, my response was ok, well I am gay!  Needless to say that went well.  I wanted to ask him if adultry was a christian value.  He commited adultry to produce several children.  He asked me on the phone once, "What kind of father do you want me to be?"  I was 19 at the time.  It has been engrained in my head since that day at Louisburg in my dorm room on the 2nd floor in Merrit Dorm.  I remember saying, "I have a father."  I then told him that I just wanted to know who he was since I was carrying his blood in my veins.  He wanted a DNA test.  I agreed.  I went to a testing site in Louisburg, and he went to one in Cape Hatteras.  About a month later I got a phone call confirming that he was my birthfather.  It was nice to know.  I knew thats all I wanted.  He loves water, and I love water, we like fishing.  He was athletic, played sports, so did I.&lt;br /&gt;I have met by brothers.  One is an engineer and the other will be a doctor real soon.  Its crazy to think that they both are genusies and here I am, renting cars to people.  We all have a good sense of humor and the irony in this is that I am gay and one of my brothers is too! Therefore making being gay genetic (not a mental illness).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, I really needed to get that out.&lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5796138535771407529?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5796138535771407529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5796138535771407529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5796138535771407529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5796138535771407529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/mistress-daughter.html' title='The Mistress Daughter'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-7688073258490549993</id><published>2008-06-27T12:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T12:21:20.941-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i just got the spot</title><content type='html'>lets just say, that everything is really falling into place.  i got the spot!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-7688073258490549993?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/7688073258490549993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=7688073258490549993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7688073258490549993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/7688073258490549993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-just-got-spot.html' title='i just got the spot'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-4709962321649737512</id><published>2008-06-24T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T07:35:35.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'>walk toward the light til you find the sun and you'll better off in the long run</title><content type='html'>Oh ain't life wonderful&lt;br /&gt;When everything is right&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes wonderful&lt;br /&gt;Can fall apart sometimes&lt;br /&gt;When your troubles knock you down&lt;br /&gt;Pick yourself up off the ground and&lt;br /&gt;Walk on&lt;br /&gt;Walk on&lt;br /&gt;Nothing ever stays wrong that long&lt;br /&gt;Walk on&lt;br /&gt;Oh walk on&lt;br /&gt;Don't just stand there in the storm&lt;br /&gt;Walk toward the light till you find the sun&lt;br /&gt;And you'll be better off in the long run&lt;br /&gt;And walk on&lt;br /&gt;Oh it's a heartache when love comes to an end&lt;br /&gt;But even though your heart breaks&lt;br /&gt;You know it's gonna mend&lt;br /&gt;Keep the faith right through goodbye&lt;br /&gt;And don't you ever break your stride&lt;br /&gt;Walk on&lt;br /&gt;Walk on&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-4709962321649737512?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/4709962321649737512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=4709962321649737512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4709962321649737512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/4709962321649737512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/walk-toward-light-til-you-find-sun-and.html' title='walk toward the light til you find the sun and you&apos;ll better off in the long run'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-3211717186741361359</id><published>2008-06-24T07:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T07:31:22.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Somewhere out there is somebody</title><content type='html'>Somebody in the next car&lt;br /&gt;Somebody on the morning train&lt;br /&gt;Somebody in the coffee shop&lt;br /&gt;That you walk right on by everyday&lt;br /&gt;Somebody that you look at&lt;br /&gt;But never really see&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere out there is somebody&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-3211717186741361359?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/3211717186741361359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=3211717186741361359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3211717186741361359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/3211717186741361359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/somewhere-out-there-is-somebody.html' title='Somewhere out there is somebody'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-2065155027939410823</id><published>2008-06-24T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T05:33:21.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>walking away</title><content type='html'>I'm walking away from some people in my life.  In an attempt to find a better day.  I have decided to cut ties with some people.  Its bad when all you see is the toxic in a person.  I am better off and she is better off without me.  I kept giving and giving and giving, to get nothing in return.  i hardly got a thank you.  i know i can support you and take care of all your responsbilites, but all i can do is try.  you dont want me to try so i am walking away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-2065155027939410823?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/2065155027939410823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=2065155027939410823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2065155027939410823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2065155027939410823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/walking-away.html' title='walking away'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6795103040836910151</id><published>2008-06-23T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T13:30:28.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>jobs</title><content type='html'>so, one of the jobs i put in for, someone else got chosen for. thats ok tho. i have another opportunity waiting around the bend. why is that if I treat someone well they treat me like crap? i treat the people i date like gold and i do my best to make it all work out. I get walked on and used. why do people do that? yesterday my roommate told me that she wanted me to get hit by a truck. all because i dont want to date her anymore. she treated me like crap, was never nice to me and i have withstood it all. i meet someone and have to say, hi I live with my ex girlfriend! it never works out. oh well. i just found out who got the job over me. I AM PISSED! oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6795103040836910151?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6795103040836910151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6795103040836910151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6795103040836910151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6795103040836910151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-keep-telling-myself.html' title='jobs'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6649288956628883095</id><published>2008-06-20T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T12:48:00.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i can sleep when i'm dead</title><content type='html'>what option to do?  i have a few options thrown on the table in front of me.  i dont know what to do.  should i do that one thats gonna make me happy or the one that i will just exist at.  both are very good options, very good, but how do i make them work? thats all i want to know.  what do i need to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;true story,&lt;br /&gt;estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6649288956628883095?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6649288956628883095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6649288956628883095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6649288956628883095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6649288956628883095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-can-sleep-when-im-dead.html' title='i can sleep when i&apos;m dead'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5241807827623312991</id><published>2008-06-17T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T10:34:43.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>if you would meet me halfway</title><content type='html'>why wont you meet me halfway?   all i am asking is meet me halfway, realize that i do care, and that i am getting my life figured out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5241807827623312991?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5241807827623312991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5241807827623312991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5241807827623312991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5241807827623312991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/if-you-would-meet-me-halfway.html' title='if you would meet me halfway'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-1637231754970400120</id><published>2008-06-11T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T12:42:13.262-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Speed</title><content type='html'>I'm tired of spinning my wheels&lt;br /&gt;I need to find a place where my heart can go to heal&lt;br /&gt;I need to get there pretty quick&lt;br /&gt;Hey, mister, what you got out on that lot&lt;br /&gt;You can sell me in a pinch&lt;br /&gt;Maybe one of them supped-up muscle cars&lt;br /&gt;The kind that makes you think you're stronger than you are&lt;br /&gt;Color don't matter, no, I don't need leather seats&lt;br /&gt;All that really concerns me is&lt;br /&gt;Speed&lt;br /&gt;How fast will it go&lt;br /&gt;Can it get me over her quickly, zero to sixty&lt;br /&gt;Can it outrun her memory&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, what I really need is an open road And a whole lot of speed&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to trade in this old truck&lt;br /&gt;Cuz it makes me think of her and then just slows me up&lt;br /&gt;See, it's the first place we made love&lt;br /&gt;Where we used to sit and talk on the tailgate all night long&lt;br /&gt;But now she's gone&lt;br /&gt;And I need to move on&lt;br /&gt;So give me&lt;br /&gt;Speed&lt;br /&gt;How fast will it go&lt;br /&gt;Can it get me over her quickly, zero to sixty&lt;br /&gt;Can it outrun her memory&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, what I really need is an open road&lt;br /&gt;And a whole lot of speed&lt;br /&gt;Throw me them keys so I can put some miles between us&lt;br /&gt;Tear off that rearview mirror, there's nothing left to see&lt;br /&gt;Let me lean on that gas cuz she catches up fast&lt;br /&gt;So give me&lt;br /&gt;Speed&lt;br /&gt;How fast will it go&lt;br /&gt;Can it get me over her quickly, zero to sixty&lt;br /&gt;Can it outrun her memory&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, what I really need is an open road&lt;br /&gt;And a whole lot of speed&lt;br /&gt;That's what I need&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of spinnin' my wheels&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of spinnin' my wheels&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-1637231754970400120?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/1637231754970400120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=1637231754970400120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1637231754970400120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1637231754970400120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/speed.html' title='Speed'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6172325886941619224</id><published>2008-06-11T12:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T12:29:20.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i keep telling myself this is the right thing to do</title><content type='html'>I keep tellin myself this is the right thing to do&lt;br /&gt;She was wastin my time, waitin on dreams that just weren't comin true&lt;br /&gt;And this old highway seems to understand&lt;br /&gt;Leadin me on to somewhere that no one can judge me&lt;br /&gt;I got the window rolled down, I got the radio up&lt;br /&gt;I'm doin all that I can to get my mind off us&lt;br /&gt;What I need to do is turn this car around&lt;br /&gt;Drive as fast as I can til I see the lights of her hometown&lt;br /&gt;And run to her, take her in my arms&lt;br /&gt;Make her see how upset I am, well that shouldn't be so hard&lt;br /&gt;But I drive on, and on, and on&lt;br /&gt;Eighty-seven more miles gets me into Greenville&lt;br /&gt;There's a cousin of mine who says he might get me hired at the plant&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe head down south to Charleston, South Carolina&lt;br /&gt;I know my cousin Karen, has got a couch where I can sleep&lt;br /&gt;Now the sun's goin down on my broken heart&lt;br /&gt;Lord, I gotta go back before I get too far&lt;br /&gt;What I need to do is turn this car around&lt;br /&gt;Drive as fast as I can til I see the lights of her hometown&lt;br /&gt;And run to her, take her in my arms&lt;br /&gt;Make her see how upset I am, well that shouldn't be so hard&lt;br /&gt;But I drive on, and on, and on&lt;br /&gt;But I drive on&lt;br /&gt;Yes I drive on, and on, and on&lt;br /&gt;Knowin what I need to do&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6172325886941619224?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6172325886941619224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6172325886941619224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6172325886941619224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6172325886941619224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-keep-telling-myself-this-is-right.html' title='i keep telling myself this is the right thing to do'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-2569176345058767893</id><published>2008-06-09T09:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T10:08:48.055-07:00</updated><title type='text'>making someone look bad....</title><content type='html'>I try to live by a general rule of being nice and helping people out.  No matter if its a flat tire, a oil change, or some general advice.  However, I will no longer help people when it comes to big decsions, like employment.  You can get the job on your own accord.  I will no longer be a reference for people, or even talk to my supervisor about you.  If you get a job on your own accord and we happen to work together, do not shun me.  If I can help you with the job, let me help you.  This is suppose to be a fun and friendly place to work where teamwork rules. Just remember that.  I will never vouch for you again, not when it comes to work.  I dont want to sound selfish but this makes me look bad too.  I got you hired and now you are just gonna roll out.  Thats selfish and stupid.  Oh well.....dont do me any favors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story,&lt;br /&gt;Estee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-2569176345058767893?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/2569176345058767893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=2569176345058767893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2569176345058767893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2569176345058767893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/making-someone-look-bad.html' title='making someone look bad....'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5364423004570557169</id><published>2008-06-07T06:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T06:17:46.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Theres gotta be something more</title><content type='html'>Monday, hard to wake up&lt;br /&gt;Fill my coffee cup, I'm out the door&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, the freeway's standing still today&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna make me late, and thats for sure&lt;br /&gt;I'm running out of gas and out of time&lt;br /&gt;Never gonna make it there by nine&lt;br /&gt;There's gotta be something more&lt;br /&gt;Gotta be more than thisI need a little less hard timeI need a little more bliss&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna take my chances&lt;br /&gt;Taking a chance I might&lt;br /&gt;Find what I'm looking for&lt;br /&gt;There's gotta be something more&lt;br /&gt;Five years and there's no doubt&lt;br /&gt;That I'm burnt out, I've had enough&lt;br /&gt;So now boss man, here's my two weeks&lt;br /&gt;I'll make it short and sweet, so listen up&lt;br /&gt;I could work my life away, but why?&lt;br /&gt;I got things to do before die&lt;br /&gt;Some believe in destiny, and some believe in fate&lt;br /&gt;I believe that happiness is something we create&lt;br /&gt;You best belive that I'm not gonna wait&lt;br /&gt;Cause there's gotta be something more&lt;br /&gt;I get home 7:30 the house is dirty, but it can wait&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, 'cause right now I need some downtime&lt;br /&gt;To drink some red wine and celebrate&lt;br /&gt;Armageddon could be knocking at my door but I ain't gonna answer thats for sure.&lt;br /&gt;There's gotta be something more!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5364423004570557169?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5364423004570557169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5364423004570557169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5364423004570557169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5364423004570557169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/theres-gotta-be-something-more.html' title='Theres gotta be something more'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-1808853856668222472</id><published>2008-06-02T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T14:52:35.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i really miss my mom</title><content type='html'>Ive changed the presets in my truck&lt;br /&gt;so those old songs don't sneak up&lt;br /&gt;they still find me and remind me&lt;br /&gt;yeah you come back that easy&lt;br /&gt;try restaurants I've never been to&lt;br /&gt;order new things off the menu&lt;br /&gt;that I never tried cause you didn't like&lt;br /&gt;two drinks in you were by my side&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to friends&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to myself&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to God&lt;br /&gt;I prayed liked hell but I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I tried sober&lt;br /&gt;I tried drinking&lt;br /&gt;I've been strong and I've been weak&lt;br /&gt;and I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I've done everything move on like I'm supposed to&lt;br /&gt;I'd give anything for one more minute with you&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I never knew til you were gone&lt;br /&gt;how many pages you were on&lt;br /&gt;it never ends I keep turning&lt;br /&gt;and line after line and you are there again&lt;br /&gt;I dont know how to let you go&lt;br /&gt;you are so deep down in my soul&lt;br /&gt;I feel helpless so hopelessits a door that never closes&lt;br /&gt;no I don't know how to do this&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to friends&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to myself&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to God&lt;br /&gt;I prayed liked hell but I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I tried sober&lt;br /&gt;I tried drinking&lt;br /&gt;I've been strong and I've been weak&lt;br /&gt;and I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I've done everything to move on like I'm supposed to&lt;br /&gt;I'd give anything for one more minute with you&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you yeah&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to friends&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to myself&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to God&lt;br /&gt;I prayed liked hell but I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I tried sober&lt;br /&gt;I tried drinking&lt;br /&gt;I've been strong and I've been weak&lt;br /&gt;and I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I've done everything to move on like I'm supposed to&lt;br /&gt;I'd give anything for one more minute with you&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you yeah&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you...... yeah.... yeah.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-1808853856668222472?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/1808853856668222472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=1808853856668222472' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1808853856668222472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/1808853856668222472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-really-miss-my-mom.html' title='i really miss my mom'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-2441278350675436896</id><published>2008-06-02T12:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T12:05:01.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>attachments</title><content type='html'>we all meet people and get attached to them.  what do we do when they cut and run?  we cut and run too.  thats apparently what happens with me at least.  i think things are going well, and then I realize that they are not at all.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-2441278350675436896?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/2441278350675436896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=2441278350675436896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2441278350675436896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/2441278350675436896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/06/attachments.html' title='attachments'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-178353382505438219</id><published>2008-05-23T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T06:13:47.851-07:00</updated><title type='text'>maybe so, maybe no</title><content type='html'>I work too hard for everything I have.  TOO HARD!  I am talking about getting a second job as well, and maybe a third.  I am good at working, thats about the only thing I am good at.  I dont mind helping someone out once in a while.  Thats what friends do.  However, when I feel as though I should help with something that is out of my control, I do try too.  I cant do it this time.  I want too, but the more I think about it, the madder I get.  I have no ties to this, and I dont wanna leave anyone stuck either.  I am way too nice.  WAY TOO NICE!  I give and give and give and give, but what is given to me?  I have a couple friends that would be there for me at the drop of a hat.  I know that, they know that.  On this one however, I feel like I am letting someone down.  I shouldnt feel like that, but I do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-178353382505438219?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/178353382505438219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=178353382505438219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/178353382505438219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/178353382505438219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/05/maybe-so-maybe-no.html' title='maybe so, maybe no'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-6785858487998704696</id><published>2008-05-15T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T05:55:08.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hola Heela Ho</title><content type='html'>I was just thinking about what I was doing ten years ago. I was about to turn 19. I would have already been at Camp Don Lee, getting ready to be a camp counselor. That meant that parents were leaving their children in my car for weeks at a time. I had a group of two week campers, and whenI got the sheet to see who was in my group, there were two kids from my hometown. Elizabeth and Rebecca. Their parents were like, wait we know you! It was alot of fun that week. we lead a all-camp vespers. It was a hit! There is nothing like a Hobie Cat halyard connected to a campfire and a roll of tp on fire on it to start the fire. pull the string and then we had fire! I have always said that the one place that i felt the most spirtual or closest to my religion was at Camp Don Lee. The camp songs, (I think I was the only person who still knows the hand motions to Witch Doctor) the Indian Jones, Superman, Take me out to the Ballgame blessings. Those were good times. However, even now, if you catch me and my cousin in the right mood we will sing a Camp Don Lee blessing at a holiday dinner! I miss that place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I know of this place by the sea and I often think of what its done for me.&lt;br /&gt;I use to take long walks to the end of the pier and many nights i'd even shed a tear.&lt;br /&gt;I often wonder if I'll ever return to the place i long to be.&lt;br /&gt;I learned how to swim and canoe in the creek,&lt;br /&gt;Lord, I wanna know if I will ever return to see the beauty of this place.&lt;br /&gt;Walk along the time river shore to see God's amazing grace.&lt;br /&gt;Lord, please take me back now just one more time to the place I long to be that place for me is.... Camp Don Lee&lt;br /&gt;-1999 Sammy Hudson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;Theres a place that I love best&lt;br /&gt;hola he hola ho&lt;br /&gt;its a spot that God has blessed&lt;br /&gt;hola heela ho&lt;br /&gt;oh it means so much to me&lt;br /&gt;hola he&lt;br /&gt;hola ho&lt;br /&gt;whats its name why Camp Don Lee&lt;br /&gt;hola heela ho&lt;br /&gt;when from Don Lee we depart&lt;br /&gt;hola he hola ho&lt;br /&gt;may there be in every heart&lt;br /&gt;hola heela ho&lt;br /&gt;some new meaning of god love&lt;br /&gt;hola he hola ho&lt;br /&gt;as we seek his will above&lt;br /&gt;hola heela ho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for coming to Camp Don Lee and HAVE A GREAT SUMMER!!!! -Rev. John A. Farmer every Saturday morning after breakfast!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-6785858487998704696?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/6785858487998704696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=6785858487998704696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6785858487998704696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/6785858487998704696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/05/hola-heela-ho.html' title='Hola Heela Ho'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8865739101820514288.post-5585713084774517594</id><published>2008-05-15T08:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T08:13:57.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hypnotize the moon</title><content type='html'>She knew she caught my eye&lt;br /&gt;And that was all it took&lt;br /&gt;Ain't it just strange how forever changed&lt;br /&gt;With just one look&lt;br /&gt;The magic filled the night&lt;br /&gt;She touched my soul like no one else&lt;br /&gt;Yes, the way that woman made me feel&lt;br /&gt;Left me talking to myself&lt;br /&gt;You better run for cover&lt;br /&gt;You better hide your heart&lt;br /&gt;'Cause once you start to love her&lt;br /&gt;You know you'll never stop&lt;br /&gt;She shines like a diamond&lt;br /&gt;When she walks into a room&lt;br /&gt;She can charm the stars&lt;br /&gt;Hypnotize the moon.&lt;br /&gt;Once I held her close&lt;br /&gt;I knew just where I stood&lt;br /&gt;No, you never get a second chance&lt;br /&gt;To ever feel so good&lt;br /&gt;Then and there I knew&lt;br /&gt;These words were etched in stone&lt;br /&gt;If you can't feel the power of&lt;br /&gt;The greatest love you've known&lt;br /&gt;You better run for cover&lt;br /&gt;You better hide your heart&lt;br /&gt;'Cause once you start to love her&lt;br /&gt;You know you'll never stop&lt;br /&gt;She shines like a diamond&lt;br /&gt;When she walks into a room&lt;br /&gt;She can charm the stars&lt;br /&gt;Hypnotize the moon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8865739101820514288-5585713084774517594?l=itstheestee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/feeds/5585713084774517594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8865739101820514288&amp;postID=5585713084774517594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5585713084774517594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8865739101820514288/posts/default/5585713084774517594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://itstheestee.blogspot.com/2008/05/hypnotize-moon.html' title='hypnotize the moon'/><author><name>Estee's Circus!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01214131814807971959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5sqAa4GMvNU/SKwLz46c94I/AAAAAAAAAAg/3YjYwEoiqKg/S220/me01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
