<?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-2726150381625115073</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:45:55.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There's life after 25!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-7546869864756940370</id><published>2008-05-13T00:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T00:37:04.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Death</title><content type='html'>I read this, I hope it helps you. For Ronnie's mom, remember his innocence and love and let that be with you every mother's day. &lt;br /&gt;Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to eachother, that we still are. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used to. Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together, pray, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhat very near, just around the corner. All is well."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-7546869864756940370?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/7546869864756940370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=7546869864756940370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/7546869864756940370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/7546869864756940370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2008/05/death.html' title='Death'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-1772420783818813894</id><published>2008-03-12T02:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T03:05:34.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laying Awake at 3 am</title><content type='html'>When I'm laying awake in our big comfy bed in my nice clean neighbourhood in my nice multicultural city...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never think about Korea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never think about the monsoon rains that pounded on our double front door, soiling my favorite high heels that I never wore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never think about the tacky 70's furniture that we rearranged in the tiny dusty livingroom, so that we could eat potato and corn-covered pizza, with pickles, on the green triangular coffee table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember the fake wood linoleum kitchen floor or the maggots that infested our garbage one hot summer day, or the tiny fridge or the medicine care package on top of it that my mom sent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it definitely never crosses my mind what happened to the food I left in the cupboards.. what was it again? Hmm some Aloe Vera drinks, noodles, condiments and oatmeal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Far away are the odd cockroach or two, the painted green rooftop where I had a picnic with some wine, pasta and a few friends as the sun set and the neon advertising lights for my school glowed a few blocks away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd have to be really bored for my mind to wander to the freezing cold bathroom that always smelled like mildew and clogged drain. That drain was disgusting. Oh, and how the washing machine would empty its watery guts onto the bathroom floor and the garbage can would float circles around the drain (sometimes clockwise, sometimes counterclockwise; it doesn't matter what side of the equator  you're on!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in the unused TV room, where we'd hang our laundry on a large rack because they don't use dryers in Korea.. I'd poke my head out the window at night and watch the endless stream of navy-uniformed schoolboys walk home, in clusters of two or three, cellphone lights glinting like the odd angler fish caught amongst carp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming home at 6 am on a Sunday morning when the birds chirped and a layer of haze hugged the city; it was the only time of the week I ever heard peace and quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, the loud speakers blaring from merchant trucks echoed in the narrow sidestreets from sunrise to well after dusk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'd wonder about the dirty white Coach wallet I left in the drawer by my bed, because I have another, nicer one now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That lady that barged into the house trying to sell me milk on a pre-ordered monthly schedule may be worth a laugh or two..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hardly think of these things when I'm laying in bed at 3 am and my mind is preoccupied with final assignments, work and skiing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-1772420783818813894?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/1772420783818813894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=1772420783818813894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/1772420783818813894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/1772420783818813894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2008/03/laying-awake-at-3-am.html' title='Laying Awake at 3 am'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-7874033420875741982</id><published>2008-03-10T01:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T01:49:42.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Skiing</title><content type='html'>When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I feel like I'm flying down fresh powder, barely touching the  snow. I think I finally hit that point today between skiing and REALLY skiing. Cautious wide turns give way to aggressive carving; skiing offensively is actually more safe than skiing defensively. It is a technique that can be applied to life itself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-7874033420875741982?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/7874033420875741982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=7874033420875741982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/7874033420875741982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/7874033420875741982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2008/03/skiing.html' title='Skiing'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-5019809155000559243</id><published>2008-03-06T14:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T11:49:44.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aging</title><content type='html'>My optometrist is cute. And amusing and nice. I've had a mini crush on him since I started going there 15 years ago. Each time I go back he looks a lot older, same personality, and a little grumpier, but in a cute way. The kid photos on the walls have been replaced with grandkid pics. It's funny how old people don't suddenly decide to turn grumpy one day because it's in vogue for their age.. it's just that after living so long you start to get impatient with all the routine inconveniences in life. I sure would be if I had worked in the same office doing the same job for 20 years! Tuck Everlasting = right. Everlasting life would not necessarily be a blessing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Optometrist (or how he looked about a decade ago):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt; pic removed so i don't get any weird looks next time i go to get my eyes checked ;) &gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-5019809155000559243?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/5019809155000559243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=5019809155000559243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/5019809155000559243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/5019809155000559243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2008/03/aging.html' title='Aging'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-2657704111553479479</id><published>2008-03-05T11:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T12:08:04.218-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Turning 26</title><content type='html'>Seeing as this blog is named 'There's life after 25,' it would seem fitting to report that yesterday I turned 26, so yes life does continue after a quarter century! And while last year I moped when the clock hit 12:00, this year, I pranced around. Perhaps it's because 26 is not some big milestone like 25, perhaps it was because I am in a better place this year, doing something I love. I was painting my final concept plan when the clock struck 12:00. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For his bday gift to me, bf created this awesome steak dinner that was meant to replicate one of the best dinners I ever ate, at a restaurant that now doesn't exist. He went so far as to track down the chef and get him to recreate this special tar tar sauce, free of charge. The steaks were so big they completely covered our large dinner plates. I look forward to gnawing away at the rest of em for lunch in a sec.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two other promises of homemade dinner will be fulfilled in the next few weeks, and most excitingly I planned a ski trip to Whistler. This is significant because I haven't really officially celebrated my birthday since highschool. I just don't enjoy the attention all that much; in fact, I felt a tinge of selfishness as I made the Facebook event, and couldn't bear to put my name in the title (but it's in the subtitle! haha). After a few days though, birthday advertising has become fun and dare I even say addictive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Furthermore, I am coming to see that birthdays aren't really meant to celebrate the day you were born. They are just another occasion meant to enforce the bonds between people whom you think are kickass. So instead of choosing a restaurant or club celebration like most people do, and which I sorta hate, I decided I should do what I REALLY want to do, and what people around me really want to do, and I should invite all the people who make me feel happy, regardless of how long I've known them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, I'm really looking forward to this Sunday, when 4-5 carloads of favorite people and I head to the ski resort that is rated #1 in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-2657704111553479479?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/2657704111553479479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=2657704111553479479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/2657704111553479479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/2657704111553479479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2008/03/on-turning-26.html' title='On Turning 26'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-2825138488063723542</id><published>2008-02-23T21:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T00:00:31.495-08:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Chat Commandments</title><content type='html'>So the last post was one of those 'What I did today' types of entries. Therefore, this one will be more of a 'reflection on life, sticking to a single topic' entries that I prefer reading in blogs, but find hard to blog myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RELATING TO PEOPLE. It seems that in the past month or so, I've suddenly eureka'd regarding how to better interact with people. I never stop learning about how to interact with people throughout my whole life. People are so incredibly complex in their body language, spoken language, ESP and what have you, that I think you could never learn everything there is to learn about interacting perfectly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I am an INFJ introvert type, any truthisms I can lay my hands on, help. Here is my list of this month's revelations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Look people straight in the eye, and hold their gaze. Make them look away sometimes too, rather than vice versa. I read about this recently and mulled over it the past few days.  You really stay in tune with both the conversation content and people's body language when you look them straight in the eye. Plus it increases their self esteem and makes them think you're confident too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Don't focus on grammar and style. Focus on content, and the desire to convey important information. Too often in the past I'd get all tripped up over my words because I cared too much about whether I used singular or plural tense. In the end, I notice that even seasoned public speakers don't care if they mess up their grammar here in there. Didn't they teach us in psych class that verbal communication is 90% body language and tone of voice, and 10% what you actually say? So don't focus on adding emotion at all the right times either.. if you're passionate about what you say, then you'll naturally be emotional at the appropriate times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. BE EMOTIONAL! It may be tempting to be efficient and speak like a robot, but people who let their emotion show through their words hold listeners' interest longer. People appreciate quirkiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Listen to EVERY bit of what someone else says, no matter how distracting the environment. You can always revisit whatever catches your attention in the environment. But you can't say "Oh can you repeat what you were saying two minutes ago?" when a person is already deep into their lecture on quantum physics or globalization. Conversation will flow much better if you absorb EVERYTHING and...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Respond immediately with your first impression. Don't guard your responses because you think you will offend. Or rather do, but respond quickly but with intuition. If a few moments go by without an honest response, people with feel dejected because their opinions were not validified, and convo will cease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Of course, know your audience, but if it's appropriate, don't be afraid to discuss non-politically correct stuff. People do value honest gritty convo.. it's a good societal release we all need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. When you're talking to people, especially if it's a formal interaction, or where you are approaching an authority figure and/or need something from them, always speak with a slight smile on your face. Not a cheesy fake grin; rather, a slight smirk combined with the facial muscles all pulled back, and wide eyes. This is a pretty amazing discovery to me.. but I find that, even if I'm talking about something very serious, if I keep that slightly playful smile on my face, people will not take the conversation seriously at all or be offended. This worked recently at the Dr's, who I knew beforehand has a rather opinionated attitude, when I wanted a prescription and she wouldn't give me it. I didn't get the prescription, but I know she liked me, I made a joke and she remembered my name at the end, so I'd still call it a success. Much better than the other time I saw her, when I was 'just another serious patient' to her and she was 'just a grumpy old know it all doctor' to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Approach people to chat and ask them to go out! To often in the past, I've just let people call me or approach me. Call it 'being rejected in grade 6' syndrome. But I've found that people perk up and really appreciate it when you walk by their desk just to say hi, or call them up to do something specific to their interests. I still need to work on that; often its so tempting just to let others do all the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Be entertaining; tell all your interesting stories and experiences. Don't bottle them up.. what are you saving them for anyway? People LOVE to be entertained even more than like entertaining, even the ones who seem to do the talking 90% of the time. You will thus increase your value in their eyes, and second, you'll feel great having an audience to ooh and ahh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Ok so I'm forcing myself to think of 10 things so that I can round off this list at an even number, and make the title sort of a 'Notorious B.I.G.' pun. So.. Maintain a balance of humility and confidence. Nobody likes someone who puts themselves down all the time, nor do they like someone who accepts all compliments with an "I know. I'm great." Striking the balance is an art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of these rules are more obvious than others, some I find completely fascinating, because, well, humans are just so persnickity and complex. Most of the time, I wish I could just interact with dogs. Sniff noses, sniff butts, lick, wag tail, easy. Or maybe even men. Punch fists, burp, laugh, joke, state the obvious. But human beings, their communication is an art that you are either in the mood for, or TOTALLY aren't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-2825138488063723542?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/2825138488063723542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=2825138488063723542' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/2825138488063723542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/2825138488063723542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2008/02/10-chat-commandments.html' title='10 Chat Commandments'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-5575571419150944715</id><published>2008-02-23T21:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T21:48:45.779-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Garden Show</title><content type='html'>Wow, a post! Today, it seems, was inspirational enough to warrant an actual blog visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to attempt a more stream of consciousness approach, no proofreading, no rephrasing. Just whatever I'm thinking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I had class in the AM and it was all nice n dandy. I was expecting it to be rather bland due to the guest speaker on contracts (and who would argue that fine print is one of the most boring types of reading material) but we ended up hearing some pretty neat stuff, like 'small claims court isn't actually all that bad' and entailing stories. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back up last night, I was going to stay in and study but went out to Celebrities to hear the bf spin. It wasn't that special a night, not many of our friends showed up but that was predicted and I just wanted to get out and chat. Then today I came home to relax after class and voila! An online forum thread told me the BC Home and Garden Show was on today, and as it was a partially sunny day I really wanted to get out.. ANYWHERE! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I grabbed a classmate, and one of his classmates showed up later, a British girl, who turned out to be ridiculously interesting. As we were waiting for a guest speaker's presentation to start (Mr. Minter from Minter gardens) she told us how she took a backpacking trip to Belize rainforest with the UK army, got bitten by tons of weird bugs, and the highlight of the story, the part that made us laugh so hard it turned heads.. was when her army friend got infected with flies that lay larva under your skin, and late at night the bored campers dared this friend to cut open one of the boils on his flesh.. and a fly actually flew out. GOOD GRIEF.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just really good to get out and talk, especially with such interesting, fun people. The guy classmate, he's really good at meeting ppl and getting contacts and fishing for jobs. He's more 'do it yourself and do it now,' and urging me to advertise my services/sketches now, whereas I'm kind of hesitant, wanting to sit back and observe others who have made it in the industry, and work on my portfolio before I advertise. To learn more, so that when I jump in with two feet, I'll already have a great reputation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then as we exited, I ran into an old university friend (my only university friend, really!) who was manning the FREE YELLOWPAGES booth, all dressed in yellow. I slapped him in the chest with my bag of books which caught him by surprise.. that was FUN.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-5575571419150944715?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/5575571419150944715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=5575571419150944715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/5575571419150944715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/5575571419150944715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2008/02/garden-show.html' title='Garden Show'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-8726765810187251845</id><published>2008-01-02T01:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T02:20:00.224-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Multitasking Multz-an de la Monde</title><content type='html'>Multz-an means birthday in Romanian. Happy birthday, world. Nobody really knows how old you are.. but that does not matter. Any cause for celebration is a good cause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was humming and hawing up until the last possible moment, unable to decide whether to attend R's annual NYE party or stay in with J, who didn't seem to have any plans (This is quite shocking.. I do believe bovine may have been partaking in aviation adventures somewhere in the world). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my surprise, I ended up doing both! Which is something I usually avoid as I hate being stressed by having a full schedule, especially one that involves commuting alone. When I arrived at R's, only two other girls were there. I made some awkward conversation with them until a 'life of the party' type girl showed up, and all attention was thankfully directed to her. Then a couple more girls showed up, causing R to exclaim what a wonderful ratio it was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stayed for an hour and a half, relieved when familiar faces showed up and conversation grew more animated. Tradition at this party is to draw all over paper-coated walls, and I of course never miss a chance to doodle. Last party was humping rabbits. This one received a horse with a rainbow mane and pile of manure. I also convinced someone to draw a 'performance piece' of white crayon on white paper on white wall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Leaving a party early without telling people is always good, because it leaves them with a sense of mystery, especially if they enjoyed chatting with you." I remember reading that somewhere, so I sometimes feel a little smug and sneaky when I exit events early. I dashed home around 11 and joined the bf and some friends playing Rockband for XBox. We had no countdown, but I finally got that new years kiss I've alllways wanted. I never kissed anyone on NYE so now I can cross that one off my list :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was low-key, and surprisingly even more enjoyable than the party. We sung and played ourselves hoarse, and I scored 97% on vocals for Black Hole Sun!! (It's all about the 'won't you cooooomeee's') Later, bf spun some house on decks placed on top of the new illuminated bar and we all watched episodes of Planet Earth on the new high-def TV. More ppl showed up (I KNEW the bf wouldn't be completely alone even though he swore he would attempt a quiet new years!) including one of our friends who is super gorgeous, super sweet, has super big boobs and also a good DJ (aka the type u'd like to hate but just can't because they're too nice). She spun some tracks too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the BF and I kicked everyone out and continued our New Years kiss from where we left off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall a great NYE and a super start to 08. Happy New Year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-8726765810187251845?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/8726765810187251845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=8726765810187251845' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/8726765810187251845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/8726765810187251845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2008/01/multitasking-multz-de-la-monde.html' title='Multitasking Multz-an de la Monde'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-2557374859294213987</id><published>2007-12-26T14:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T15:02:35.574-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate making titles. This is about Christmas, okay? Okay!</title><content type='html'>Christmas has been great! I have about 5 boxes of chocolates/cookies currently on the go. The latest edition, a 4 lb box of Belgium choc covered cookies that my mom gave to bf (the bf predicted I'd be the main consumer and what do you know.. self fulfilling prophesy!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had hotpot at my folks last night, and turkey dinner at boy's grandmas house the nite before. Boy's uncle commanded that boy make the same turkey every year. An aunt (the sweet quiet one that I like) ardently asked him for the recipes to everything, because her boys loved it so much. Also a hit were my mashed potatoes, his gravy, and his blood orange cranberry sauce, which made great smoothies after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my mom buys the weirdest gifts. ie. for my brother, she got, in this order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- a pen holder with folk art llamas on it (he doesnt have a desk job or care for llamas)&lt;br /&gt;- a medicine mask (no idea what for)&lt;br /&gt;- a hand-cranked flashlight with radio and personal alarm (the noise from hand-cranking is louder than the alarm, lol)&lt;br /&gt;- an emergency foil blanket &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.. and she got me a 72 hour emergency kit, so I think she's got a 6th sense the rest of us were born without.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family loved their gifts, especially my dad and his backpack and my bro and his Cdn Tire gc!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel pretty spoiled this year too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-2557374859294213987?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/2557374859294213987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=2557374859294213987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/2557374859294213987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/2557374859294213987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-hate-making-titles-this-is-about.html' title='I hate making titles. This is about Christmas, okay? Okay!'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-4406057033756252269</id><published>2007-12-23T01:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-23T01:32:03.158-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MERRY CHRISTMAS!</title><content type='html'>OMG HI I'M DRUKNK AND I'M SOBRING UP NOW AND MY BOY WAS SO GOOD TONIGHT.. HE DIDNT EVEN DRINK ONE DROP. I AM THE DURNK ONE, AND THE ROOM, IT IS SPPINGING! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HEE HEE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE HAD SUCH A GOOD TIME AT SERA'S PLACE. SHE MAD AWESEOME CHEESCEAKE! OMG AND I REALLYH AM AUTISTIC.. I TOOK THIS TEST THAT SHOWS I AM.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-4406057033756252269?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/4406057033756252269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=4406057033756252269' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/4406057033756252269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/4406057033756252269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/12/merry-christmas.html' title='MERRY CHRISTMAS!'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-7963109234578877283</id><published>2007-12-21T02:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T02:45:40.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Please may I be a bot again?</title><content type='html'>I applied for a boring / potentially stressful customer service desk job at a large company. The job would be similar to the one that nearly drove me mental from its boring, repetitive tasks before I left for Korea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck me.* The sole thing that would drive me on for two years though (the amount of time I'd like to remain in this position, ideally) would be the fact that I need to save about $70,000 for grad school. And it would also be nice to be able to afford real groceries again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Please disregard the language. Been watching too much Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares on the Food Network.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-7963109234578877283?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/7963109234578877283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=7963109234578877283' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/7963109234578877283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/7963109234578877283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/12/please-may-i-be-bot-again.html' title='Please may I be a bot again?'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-7789799366161896579</id><published>2007-12-21T02:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T02:31:43.272-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aha!</title><content type='html'>I know what causes drama in my life. In new social interactions, I rely on fact, rather than intuition. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This may be tied to the fact that I think I'm a tiny bit autistic, as I see traits in myself that are very similar to my father's (who sometimes states that he thinks HE is a tiny bit autistic).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who have a tiny bit of autism (ie. Asperger's Syndrome) often react based entirely on fact, and while they recognize body language and contextual clues, they for some reason often do not react based on those bits of info in an actual interaction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In retrospect, both for the teacher thing and the car thing, the warning signs were there, and I should have been able to gather data regarding each person's personality, their speech, the lack thereof, and so on, to gauge what kind of information I would in turn supply, when, and how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But because my responses were not finely tuned enough, because I was not perceptive enough regarding each individual, hell broke loose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't because I wasn't polite or PC enough. And I often find myself being overly polite and PC to compensate. It was just because I didn't contextualize my responses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I on to something here? Or maybe I'm just full of horse poo....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-7789799366161896579?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/7789799366161896579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=7789799366161896579' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/7789799366161896579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/7789799366161896579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/12/aha.html' title='Aha!'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-5461147687423918583</id><published>2007-12-21T01:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T02:21:12.498-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Got my car back.</title><content type='html'>The great exchange happened today. I handed a wad of $100 bills worth several grand to the Persian mafia in the parking lot at the local mall today. I made sure to dress sharp so they knew I meant business. He was very sullen and silent and reminded me of a baby who had just had a tantrum because their bottle had been yanked away, but had been returned the bottle. Very different from the irate and threatening person on Monday with whom I'd engaged in the most stressful verbal battle. I had to suppress a smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had envisioned having to engage in fisticuffs with the Persian mafia, bodies being thrown into trunks, a secret stash of strategically placed, muscular mafia friends grouped around the parking lot, ready to fight at the tap of a finger. The police being called, and Christmas shoppers throwing their presents in the air as they dashed away in surprise. All day I spent envisioning myself applying roundhouse kicks and swift uppercuts to the jugular. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas it was the most uneventful, smooth transaction I could ever ask for, and the resulting peace of mind is PRICELESS (My brother later told me he had kept a wrench in his pocket just in case they pulled anything stupid.. but they were as peaceful as swans). Thank God for the happy ending. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that no matter how careful or pleasant I try to be, drama seems to unfold around me often, whenever I interact with random people in society (ie. my teacher last semester). Do I lack some sort of social savoir faire? Do I not think through the repercussions of my choices throughly before acting? Am I naive? Do I not take enough initiative to prevent misunderstanding? Are the events I'm thinking about really nothing dramatic at all, but I just interpret them as such? Am I just a big DRAMA MAGNET? Probably a combo of all the above, and it is definitely part of the reason I tend to avoid new people, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Animals and plants are just so much easier to deal with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-5461147687423918583?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/5461147687423918583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=5461147687423918583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/5461147687423918583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/5461147687423918583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/12/got-my-car-back.html' title='Got my car back.'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-5363530821280928533</id><published>2007-12-20T03:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T03:40:10.334-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A life without clouds would mean sunburn.</title><content type='html'>When I was a teen, it was always like there was a big cloud over my life. I think I was mildly depressed in highschool, and I always felt grumpy.. but mostly just numb. I would actually throw my body to the ground in order to feel something, but I was even numb to pain. I hated those days of emptiness. After age 20, things reversed. That big cloud has been exchanged for sun. It's like anything is possible now and I can see there is a future that is potentially exciting and worth living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, instead of the big grey cloud covering the whole earth, there are little zippy black clouds that hang right over my head. I know they're temporary and I'd much rather feel the intense emotion they cause than the highschool numbness; however, they're annoying and bothersome nonetheless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of them is my dog - she's almost 16, getting old, and the living being I care most about in the world. I guess it's because she loves me unconditionally and she has no concept of being mean. When I go home my parents always remark how she knows I'm in the house because she acts totally different.. whining and prancing for attention (well as much as her old bones allow). Anyway, she's lost control of her bladder and sleeps in pee sometimes. Last night I cried for 3 hrs just thinking about her. To be honest I've cried a lot over the past few years, at night when I can't sleep.. 'advance grieving' I suppose, so that I don't have to grieve as much after she dies (YEAH right.. I'm going to be a COMPLETE AND UTTER BASKET CASE when that time comes). I can't even comprehend why this upsets me so much. Well I guess I sort of can.. she's been with me since I was a kid. She was the teddy bear I hugged and told all my problems to in grade 6 when I moved to a new school and had no friends. I was the only person who could comfort her when she had to ride the big scary plane over to BC. We're both scaredy cats. She's still a puppy inside. She's like my kid. Kids shouldn't die before parents. I will write more later about Lady. Maybe every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other one is my car. I thought I sold it, but the guy was very greedy and impatient and didn't even fill out his half of the icbc sellers form. I let him take it for a price much lower than what I originally asked for, and due to an oversight (lack of research) on his part, he called me back later wanting a refund. At first I said okay. Then, after advice from family and friends (brother, BF, and BF's friend all said 'tell him to go fuck himself' and that he had 'nothing on me legally'), I said no. Then he got extremely angry and threatened to call the police / sue me / get me a criminal record, etc. He's a big persian guy too and I had visions of the persian mafia shooting my house. Believe me, I had the most fitful, stressful sleep the other night. I don't handle stress like that very well, and basically just hibernated under the blankets all day and night. Despite that, I had the balls to tell him to 'go ahead' and call the police if he wanted, and hang up on him. Well he didn't, and a few days later we've come to an agreement to refund the car, and I keep $100. The exchange happens tomorrow. I'm a little nervous, but it will be in a public place, so I don't think he'll pull any stunts. Wish me luck. And wish me luck with selling the car in the future, because this car sure seems to stick to me like glue.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-5363530821280928533?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/5363530821280928533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=5363530821280928533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/5363530821280928533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/5363530821280928533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/12/life-without-clouds-would-mean-sunburn.html' title='A life without clouds would mean sunburn.'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-3665405361013258238</id><published>2007-12-10T18:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T18:36:56.712-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Books</title><content type='html'>Xmas gifts I ordered for le boi:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    * 1 of: The Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute&lt;br /&gt;      Sold by: Amazon.com, LLC&lt;br /&gt;    * 1 of: Controlling Your Drinking: Tools to Make Moderation Work for You&lt;br /&gt;      Sold by: Amazon.com, LLC&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gift note included with the first: "May you be the next Remy." (The cooking Rat from Ratatouille)&lt;br /&gt;Gift note included with the second: "May you not be the next Lindsay Lohan."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-3665405361013258238?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/3665405361013258238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=3665405361013258238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/3665405361013258238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/3665405361013258238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/12/books.html' title='Books'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-5506041967310645167</id><published>2007-12-09T13:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T13:10:09.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh and..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.the-planets.com/star-biography/Paul_Rudd_Biography_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.the-planets.com/star-biography/Paul_Rudd_Biography_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fabrice Deville would be the winter bf, Sawyer would be the summer one, and Paul Rudd would be for the spring and fall!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-5506041967310645167?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/5506041967310645167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=5506041967310645167' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/5506041967310645167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/5506041967310645167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/12/oh-and.html' title='Oh and..'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-1581647919885051857</id><published>2007-12-08T14:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-08T14:16:44.679-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh hotness!</title><content type='html'>Hey since Kat posted a pic of whats-his-name-with-the-light-eyes from Lost on her blog (and I have to agree he is hot and has stunning, sensitive eyes even though he is probably a pretty boy who minces around in tighty whities), I gotta say that Josh Holloway, his costar, is very fine too. Arguably hotter! Which is fine cuz then Kat can have light-eyes and I can have Josh and all will be right with the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bestof.provocateuse.com/images/photos/josh_holloway_97.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://bestof.provocateuse.com/images/photos/josh_holloway_97.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2006/startracks/061009/josh_holloway.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2006/startracks/061009/josh_holloway.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.channel4.com/entertainment/tv/media/L/lost/josh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.channel4.com/entertainment/tv/media/L/lost/josh.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while we're on this topic, some Fabrice Deville. Fabulous, gorgeous looking man. These photos do him no justice.. the movie Secret Things must be viewed for complete inspiration of awe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cineastentreff.de/teleschau/200633/1/200633_172438_2_024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.cineastentreff.de/teleschau/200633/1/200633_172438_2_024.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.fabricedeville.com/Book/files/page15-1002-full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.fabricedeville.com/Book/files/page15-1002-full.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.fabricedeville.com/Book/files/page15-1001-full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.fabricedeville.com/Book/files/page15-1001-full.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-1581647919885051857?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/1581647919885051857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=1581647919885051857' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/1581647919885051857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/1581647919885051857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/12/oh-hotness.html' title='Oh hotness!'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-4618448818183668913</id><published>2007-12-01T14:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T15:49:51.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowy Blind Date Day</title><content type='html'>It's December 1st today and the first day snow has stuck on the ground in my city! Went to school this morning and learned about protecting trees, from an arborist guest speaker. The lecture went overtime and my phone started ringing - it was two friends of mine who I'd set up on a blind date, calling to confirm the time and place. The guy is actually the boyfriend's friend and the girl is my friend, and we decided to send them off skating, which they are (hopefully!) doing right now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend had a longterm boyfriend for several years. Then, it was reduced to 'friends with benefits' because that's all he had time for. So my friend wanted to end it once and for all and she did. But when she recently mentioned it was getting hard to say 'no' whenever her ex happened to want sexy times, and that it was hard to get back into the dating scene, I decided to get together with the boyfriend and go through his long list of male friends (surprisingly, few are single).. and came up with three possible guys to send her on a date with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the plan is to send her on another date or two after this, just for fun. I think I'm more excited than they are.. lol.. and I definitely wish someone had set ME up on blind dates when I was  single!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other Christmasy news, I'm REALLY happy to have gotten half my Christmas shopping done already! And that I've been able to get exactly what I wanted at really good (read: cheap!) prices. I got my dad a backpack for hiking, my mom some slippers and crayola model magic (for her preschool students), my dog some treats, and the boyfriend's mom some leather gloves. The rest of my shopping will include a sweater for mom, lindt lindor for boyfriend's mom, and gift cert for brother (for either gas, Canadian Tire or eBay.. I can't decide..he likes car parts, etc). Also something for the boyfriend. And boyfriend will get his dad a karaoke mike with built-in songs. I'll make chocolate covered orange peels using this recipe: http://smittenkitchen.com/2006/11/candy-girl for anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boyfriend and I decorated his room with snowflakes, and we went hiking in the snow up a local mountain this past week. And I'm still busy lecturing him about his drinking habits. That reminds me, the other day I was awakened by a beeping noise but half-slept through it for a few hours. Then finally I woke up, searched for the offending device and after a long time, found the boyfriend's cellphone in some pants pocket. Since he was at work, I thought he might be texting me to bring him his cell.. so I checked the beeping message.. instead, it was the downstairs tenant (my ex-manager!) asking for 'a line.' (though I may not be hip, I'm privy to the lingo..and it doesn't mean fishing line!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew the boyfriend had hooked him up with the vile substance before (3 yrs ago, when I first met him) and after a stern lecture, the hookups ceased. After many other lectures and threats, the boyfriend has pretty much given up doing coke as well (which seems to be hard given he's fully immersed in the club scene). So I immediately asked the boy if he was still supplying drugs to his friend. He assured me that no, he wasn't and he wouldn't have had he been home. So that made me feel relieved, and now I can just continue occasional lectures about simpler vices, like alcohol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I started out talking about snow and ended up with blow.. how did that happen? In any case, this holiday season is shaping up to be a nice one, with lots of time off work, snow on the ground, a decorated room, big yet fun designing projects due at school, gifts that don't break the bank, and no pressure from the family to do certain things like cook a big meal or go to Christmas Eve service. My mom and boyfriend somehow already let the cat out of the bag regarding what they each got me for Christmas..and want to give me the gifts early.. which I find amusing, yet endearing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-4618448818183668913?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/4618448818183668913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=4618448818183668913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/4618448818183668913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/4618448818183668913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/12/snowy-blind-date-day.html' title='Snowy Blind Date Day'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-4701791654855178846</id><published>2007-11-16T21:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T21:39:04.442-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mo Hawk Less Problems</title><content type='html'>My brother just showed up at the door to pick up tickets, wearing a self-given mohawk and the same CONS shoes he wore in grade 3. Hightops. He was just as crazy about them back then. HA! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm deliberating over what to do with my hair. Boyfriend says grow it long. Beneficial friend says have some long bangs covering the eyes in a girly way. Both of them seem to like girly looks. Friend says au naturale waves. Beneficial friend says he doesn't care for au naturale waves. Boyfriend suggests various starlet cuts. Brother says SHAVE HEAD, or MULLET or MOHAWK. I would love a mullet-hawk. Friend says they are too much of a fad in Quebec. I say who cares. But my boss would not be pleased. Solution: hum and haw as my shaggy boring cut grows longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, meeting up with another member of this internet forum I frequent. We're meeting at a coffee house on Commercial to continue our online discussion about community projects involving gardening. I sent him a link to Patrick Blanc's vertical walls (check it out: http://www.verticalgardenpatrickblanc.com/ ) and he was floored. Which made me more excited. I have a few reservations because he seems quite gung-ho about starting things up with good intentions, without thinking about their overall ecological impact. I would prefer to get as much education as I can first, to ensure I don't eff up the environment. On the other hand I am eager to see his sketchbook, which I hear includes a self-cleaning waterfall made by situating a catch-basin under a roof, surrounded by native plants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have weird eating habits. Today I ate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast - Pringles Select, cheese and garlic flavor . One persimmon.&lt;br /&gt;Snack - granola bar and hot chocolate&lt;br /&gt;Dinner - A piece of bread and a big bowl of edamame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night's dinner: cheesecake with spinach leaves and a handful of carrots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need more iron in my diet; been way too sleepy. Will investigate iron supplements later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-4701791654855178846?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/4701791654855178846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=4701791654855178846' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/4701791654855178846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/4701791654855178846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/11/mo-hawk-less-problems.html' title='Mo Hawk Less Problems'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-1099752996523324424</id><published>2007-11-10T01:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T02:07:16.210-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Revival</title><content type='html'>I brought back the relationship post from a few days ago. I took it down because I thought it was too personal, and of course, I'd rather he didn't know. But it's nice to know others may identify with it. And isn't that what blogging is all about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway after that post, I had a two hour relationship talk with him. I'm the one who always initiates these 'talks.' We've had a lot of similar 'talks.' I addressed a lot of my concerns, even directed him to what websites have examples of the kind of sex I like (haha). Asked him probing questions about what turns HIM on. In the end, he suddenly ripped off my clothes and showed this aggressive side he never showed before. I was impressed, but it was a bit more funny than hot (I laughed a ton). And.. I secretly feel that my sexual and mental connection with my old fuckbuddy is better (ARGG!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the end, things are still the same. I learned a lot from the talk though. I wanted to know if he'd ever consider breaking up with me. He said no, he never meets other women who he has any connection with. I asked whether it would be a good idea if I moved out, to 'rekindle' our relationship. He said that may be good because then I'd seem more like a girlfriend and less like a nagging mother. But in the end he would prefer I stayed here, because he likes seeing me every day and being domestic and snuggly (as do I).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worst, I asked him if he ever wants to move out with me and he said no, he plans to live here with his parents as long as he can. He feels he is the glue who holds his folks together and he's afraid if he moves out, they'll divorce. See, his mom has a gambling addiction and is never home, and his dad is cheating on his mom because he feels neglected (A few weeks ago, I told the boyfriend his parents' relationship is kind of like ours but in reverse, but he didn't have anything to say in response. I think I may have perceived this as indifference and taken it as a green light/ used it as a salve for my conscience.. to go ahead and cheat). However, they do come home to eat my boy's home cooked meals and that's what keeps the family together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, it's hard to imagine myself and my boyfriend living with his parents when we're 60. Well.. he's out now, clubbing and drinking. And I'm home doing my drafting project. He gave me some pecan pie before he left. Yum. Domestic life continues..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-1099752996523324424?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/1099752996523324424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=1099752996523324424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/1099752996523324424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/1099752996523324424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/11/post-revival.html' title='Post Revival'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-8280269866974546537</id><published>2007-11-08T12:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T12:53:41.108-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ecologically Beneficial Outdoor Art Installation</title><content type='html'>There's nothing I'd be more interested in. Through my class, I have met some very interesting people with very interesting ideas and ongoing projects. The work done by artist types is often perceived as being flighty and impractical, and the work done by environment-saving types is often perceived as being boring, serious, and too practical. Why not combine both and make something that is not only interesting and beautiful to look at, but also *helps* the environment?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-8280269866974546537?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/8280269866974546537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=8280269866974546537' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/8280269866974546537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/8280269866974546537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/11/ecologically-beneficial-outdoor-art.html' title='Ecologically Beneficial Outdoor Art Installation'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-9178761255970172416</id><published>2007-11-06T21:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T01:37:08.494-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School Woos and Relationship Woes</title><content type='html'>I spent almost all day outside taking measurements on the house in south van. Yeah, we had to go back to get more measurements. Me and one other group member. Cherry tree leaves of yellow hues plip plopped down onto my shiny red car. Pretty contrast! Gonna go back tomorrow to measure even more. Sat in Starbucks drafting, and so many people seemed intrigued about our work. This one Kurdish guy even gave us his business card and told us his life story for half an hour. The time passed so quickly. Working outside and drafting are both calming and relaxing. My class includes many interesting people with very interesting botanical backgrounds and this group project has been so liberating, being able to talk to people who are passionate about the same things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I allowed my old fuckbuddy to hump me, and I'm still in a longterm relationship. Yeah, I lasted three years before giving in to the temptation. My first long-term relationship!  Le boyfriend of course doesn't know, or maybe he suspects, but I don't feel that bad about it. In fact I feel relieved to have broken that sexual tension that's been haunting me for three years. Why don't I feel bad? Well.. because quite frankly, this longterm relationship doesn't satisfy every need. And yet it satisfies enough to stay together. Although sometimes I doubt even that. I guess it's just nice to have someone to come home to each night. To snuggle and watch movies together. To help each other out. To miss each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he's so.. vanilla. And I like to act out rape scenerios. I love manly men, and my fuckbuddy is one. My boyfriend is the complete opposite. He has a hunch how far my sexuality extends, but he doesn't seem interested in trying new things. It makes me sad. Our hobbies and interests seem to grow farther apart. He likes house music, clubbing, drinking, drugs, watching any sport, cooking. I like cooking (but not as much), hiking, the great outdoors, plants, a variety of music, exploring and trying new things. I make an effort to do his activities with him, but he NEVER hikes with me or enjoys nature with me. I don't feel the deeper psychological connection I crave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, none of that warrants CHEATING. I'm bad. I did void his trust. But on the other hand, I don't fully believe in the stigma society attaches to having multiple unreported sexual relationships. Or at least not at this stage, where I feel the boyfriend and I are more 'snugglefriends' than boyfriend and girlfriend. I'll get my veggies at one place and carbs at another, to create a well rounded diet. Trouble is, I wish so much I could fulfill all these needs, and in turn, fulfill each of my partners' needs, all at one stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. He just came home drunk again and its a weeknight. :( His love of alcohol is just one of many things that I hate. I want to end this relationship, but &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) our life is so welded together in a marriage-like relationship it's so impossible to! breaking up with him would be like breaking up with his family, and splitting up our co-owned appliances, etc  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b) every time I start looking at new places to live, things seem to 'get better' and I feel like I should wait it out &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;c) I've been putting 110% effort into changing careers and the last thing I need is a big breakup and having to find a new roommate. i need to keep at least one aspect of my life fixed in this blur of activity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;d) I still love him. maybe not in the way people in healthy relationships should love each other, but i do love him. or at least care a lot about him, and i don't want to be the one who ends it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To conclude, I think the end is inevitable; it's just a matter of 'when.'  I just need to be patient but also proactive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. It feels so good to vent here. Thank goodness only two people read this blog! Or maybe it's just one? Hmm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-9178761255970172416?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/9178761255970172416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=9178761255970172416' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/9178761255970172416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/9178761255970172416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/11/school-woos-and-relationship-woes.html' title='School Woos and Relationship Woes'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-8903333508235635174</id><published>2007-11-01T23:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T00:00:02.938-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Black French President in Korea</title><content type='html'>I've had a couple weird dreams lately. From two nights ago:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was overseas.. in Korea, at an international convention regarding education. The President of France was there. He was of African American descent. I happened to poke my head into an empty classroom after the speeches were done. Or at least I thought it was empty. But the president was sitting around in the little child-sized chairs, talking to some Important People. I didn't know he was the President of France at the time.. I thought they were just guests. So I started saying something witty and mildly amusing. Then I somehow clued in about who he was.. and I mumbled a few embarassed words and left. Aw shucks, I thought, he must think I'm such an IDIOT, I thought! But not before I noticed a twinkle in his eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, it was time to fly back to Canadia. I was late. I was going to miss my flight. I had too much luggage. I kept trying to stuff multiple sleeping bags into cases that were too small. Check-in time passed. Everyone was on board but me. Suddenly, some Important People from the French Political Scene casually escorted me past customs and check-in. Straight up the stairs and onto the waiting plane. All the worrying had been in vain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plane was of the future. (Ok, wtf.. I just googled 'super jumbo jet' to post a pic and guess who is the first to comment in this BBC article: The ceremony was attended by European leaders including Tony Blair, Jacques Chirac and Gerhard Schroeder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;French President Jacques Chirac praised the A380 as the "crowning achievement of a human and industrial adventure", describing it as a "European success" http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/4183201.stm ) . Anyway, this plane was like a cruise ship on wings. I sat at the tail of the plane, and I remembered that the tail piece is the most likely to break off in an accident. But then I looked out the back window and it was totally worth it. The window was the size of a bedroom wall. We had a MAGNIFICENT view of the scenery below. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, an Important Person came for me. They took me to the Korean daycare that was on board the plane. She told me to look at all the kids and select the little boy who looked different, take him for a walk, play with him, give him a bath, and return him to the daycare. The toddlers were all crammed into a pretty small area. This was the only part of the plane that wasn't absolutely spacious. I found the toddler immediately.. he half black, and half white; a mulatto kid. He was also very cute and precocious. I did as I had been instructed and when I returned him, all the other kids and daycare workers were asleep. I tiptoed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, the Important Person handed me a letter. It was a double-sided letter on two sheets of yellow paper. It was a love letter, and it was sent from the President, who was sitting in a different part of the plane. He wrote that he had been smitten with me at first sight, and the child I had taken for a walk had been mine and his, from our future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-8903333508235635174?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/8903333508235635174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=8903333508235635174' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/8903333508235635174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/8903333508235635174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/11/black-french-president-in-korea.html' title='The Black French President in Korea'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-31831402368580223</id><published>2007-10-30T13:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T14:23:34.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>School</title><content type='html'>My class is chugging along. I'm not as inspired to go to it for two reasons. The first is the teacher. She is of a really err.. shall we say 'unique' disposition. She got REALLY angry when I asked her a question the first class, in front of the class, and since then, it has been walking on eggshells with her. I notice she's definitely trying to be nicer to me.. throwing out compliments here and there.. and I'm trying to act as yielding and non-confrontational as the lobotomized cat in the psych 11 texbook, but I still cannot bring myself to ask her anymore questions in front of the class from now on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which sucks, because we are doing math and graphics-related stuff now (the 2nd reason I'm not as inspired), which I find challenging. I want to learn more about plants and less about angles and measurements. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed last class, when other students asked her questions in front of the class, she ignored one question that politely questioned her information in more depth than she was willing to go, and to the other student, she just replied 'HUH?' and shook her head in a 'Are you speaking alien-talk?' way when he provided additional info she wasn't familiar with. How are students supposed to learn when their questions are responded to with such hostility? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of this adds up to me feeling rather miserable in the class, especially since I gave up 2/3rds of my income plus tuition to take the class. I guess maybe next time I will post questions on local discussion forums, asking people to PM me with info about the teacher and class, before registering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-31831402368580223?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/31831402368580223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=31831402368580223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/31831402368580223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/31831402368580223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/10/school.html' title='School'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-6919982497989498531</id><published>2007-10-30T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T13:54:20.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parade of Lost Souls</title><content type='html'>It was my third time attending this parade on Commercial Drive, and I went as No Face from Spirited Away. I think the character was perfect for me. I liked how I mystified people. I felt sneaky when everyone thought my eyes were looking out of the mask, instead of the hidden black mesh below it. I felt smug when big macho guys felt intimidated and came up close to make faces or 'playfully' punch me or shake my hand. Little babies chased me, SFU students recruited me for a film, Japanese girls screamed and grabbed 'gold' (Werther's candies!) out of my hands, and mothers pushed their ambivalent kids towards me to take pics. It was a blast getting into character.. bowing, offering gold, and basically not talking, save for a few 'uhs' when offering gold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most liberating part is being able to interact with society without caring what expression is on your face! I could be sticking my tongue out, walking with my eyes closed, being bored, and nobody could tell since all they saw was the face two feet above my head. I wish real life was like that.. I wish we could walk around all day and show our real emotions, without having to force fake laughs out of politeness, or contorting our faces in many ways to show things we don't really feel, or to communicate in ways our hands cannot. Every day, we wake up and put on our 'society masks.' And ironically, it is only in the putting of a physical Halloween mask over our faces that we can let our real emotions show. I wonder what the repercussions or benefits would be of taking off the societal mask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tomato cage on my shoulder, responsible for giving me an extra 2.5 feet of height, starting digging into my shoulder a bit, and my lower back was sore. But overall, everything stayed in place, and the pho we ate after was SO delicious and well-deserved! (My costume prevented me from eating or drinking anything from 5-10pm).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend and I both agreed that the costumes the previous year had been cooler. But I've been looking at some of the pics on Flickr, and it seems we missed several really good costumes.. like a walking bar, a Queen Victoria in a gorgeous hand-sewn dress, cat robot and penis that shot silly string. Good costumes we saw were a kid in a biohazard box on a stretcher pushed by white suited guys, an octopus, a can of Raid, Noah's Ark and a band of robots playing Daft Punk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-6919982497989498531?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/6919982497989498531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=6919982497989498531' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/6919982497989498531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/6919982497989498531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/10/parade-of-lost-souls.html' title='Parade of Lost Souls'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-4022711088805512756</id><published>2007-10-27T00:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T00:23:32.765-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On Kids</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I just love my kids (students)!! It totally depends on the kid, the class and my mood. I marvel at how different each personality is at such young ages, even between siblings. It makes me wonder.. just how much of a personality is determined by 'nurture?' 'Nature' seems to play a larger role. Some kids are brats and I can tell they don't get as much attention from their parents, who probably use videogames to babysit. I've noticed that other teachers like some of the students who I think are brats. So again, it's very subjective how one determines what their ideal kid would be like. I want to have kids ONLY if their personalities can be like those of my favorite students.. but how can I ensure this happens? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While other teachers value the lippy, talkative kids.. the ones who are in sync with pop culture, and can dish out quick witty barbs, I like the ones who are laid back and easygoing, who have no concept of what 'cool' is. And because they have no need to validate their existence with their peers, they are free to be whoever they want to be, and learn whatever they want to learn. Unfortunately I wasn't like that as a kid.. I cared too much about what others thought. I tried to fit in, and grew grumpy or snarky if I couldn't, often releasing this anger to my parents or in diaries. So if I can learn one thing from my students, it's to always be receptive to knowledge, don't even think about impressing society, don't stress, and be kind to everyone. Perhaps if I can BE that person, I could mould my own progeny into having the same character (if some day I do procreate).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-4022711088805512756?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/4022711088805512756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=4022711088805512756' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/4022711088805512756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/4022711088805512756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/10/on-kids.html' title='On Kids'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-4482781822136208141</id><published>2007-10-24T22:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T22:48:46.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall.</title><content type='html'>It's this time of year I miss Ontario the most. Every October, when the leaves start to change colour, I'm tempted to pack my bags and fly to Ontario, abandoning life as I know it in Vancouver. There is so much Vancouver is missing in terms of seasonal change. Sometimes, I feel like the year is one big season because each individual season is not properly separated from the next, and celebrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the fall, in Ontario, the sugar maples, which are twice as big as any maple here, slowly, slowly start to turn a majestic shade of deep crimson red in a few select spots. Like spectacular disease, the tree succumbs to this red, which grows and spreads. Other parts of the tree dance with yellow, orange and green. The leaves fall in torrents, creating piles a layer so thick, you can flop down on the ground and immediately disappear, never to be seen again. The leaves crackle and smell delicious.. like opening an old musty box filled with papers, or, as I recently discovered, like sipping Thai tea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Various seeds start to dry and pop out of their seed heads. The skies are perfectly clear and the sunsets spectacular for days on end. The sun is a deep golden yellow, still warm, and colours even the darkest knotty wood fence a friendly tone. The crisp air competes with the sun's warmth, and the resulting sensation is haunting. The dew turns to frost that crunches under foot.  Animals scurry about. Chickidees, squirrels, foxes, deer.. all trying to horde as much food as they can. Geese dot the horizon, grow larger, scream overhead, and then dot the horizon again. You wonder how the geese choose their lead goose. Does he just assume the position, or is he elected? The neighbours are busy grooming and training their prize cows to walk behind the tractor. Other tractors are busy baling hay (alfalfa) into huge round bales behind the house. The alfalfa smells sweet, sort of like marijuana. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With fall comes two of the most exciting events of the year. The first is the fall fair. The second is Halloween. I miss the fall fair more. Each town has it's own version of the fall fair. There are tractor pulling contests, workhorse pulling contests, dressage contests, barrel racing, horse and buggy contests, pumpkin growing contests, photography and art contests, baking contests, pet contests, .. basically a lot of contests, and being a competitive person, I'd try and enter as many as I could. Some of the coolest contests were the 'weirdest carrot shape' and 'biggest maple leaf.' If I was in Ontario I'd still be entering contests, and/or volunteering to set up so other kids could carry on the tradition. There were also numerous exhibitions put on by the local 4-H clubs, and farmers used the opportunity to show off their best livestock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;October. Plane ticket. Ontario. If it doesn't happen one of these years I'll be surprised at my restraint. And it might be a one-way ticket.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-4482781822136208141?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/4482781822136208141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=4482781822136208141' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/4482781822136208141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/4482781822136208141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/10/fall.html' title='Fall.'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2726150381625115073.post-8000881729847344603</id><published>2007-10-24T22:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T22:13:43.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There's life after 25.. and it's great!</title><content type='html'>I'm starting a new blog. I have a dozen of them already, but sometimes I just like to start over on a blank slate. I will continue to do this until blogging ceases to be in vogue (ie. the day we all communicate with ESP). The title? Because I turned 25 this year, and I hated the day. Then, the clouds cleared away and I realized that I have more options now than I've ever had my whole life. I'm finally choosing the career I want, and life is just GOOD. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom turned 60 a couple days ago and I called and asked her how it felt. "Old," she said. And that surprised me. People often say they still feel like a child. To be honest though, I think my mom grows more beautiful inside and out, with age. She has a bit more patience, she tries new things she wouldn't have considered years ago, she's less stressed out, her tastes are a bit more refined, and her garden is always improved. Plus she's more active than I am, running around dealing with 20 preschool kids each day. I wrote in her birthday card that when I look at her, I'm not afraid to age. I've finally embraced the fact that life is better when it's not eternal. And that's a liberating feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go post this now, and type more separate entries, because I like to compartmentalize my life (If the number of blogs I have wasn't already an indicator!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2726150381625115073-8000881729847344603?l=thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/feeds/8000881729847344603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2726150381625115073&amp;postID=8000881729847344603' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/8000881729847344603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2726150381625115073/posts/default/8000881729847344603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thereslifeafter25.blogspot.com/2007/10/theres-life-after-25-and-its-great.html' title='There&apos;s life after 25.. and it&apos;s great!'/><author><name>s</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
