<?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-6897980516955040523</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:21:36.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Under the Blood Moon</title><subtitle type='html'>Musings of no particular importance</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6897980516955040523.post-4915775774199496993</id><published>2008-10-28T15:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T15:37:21.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love conquers all...</title><content type='html'>So you two who read this blog know the background to this already.  No point in explaining it again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always been a huge believer in the concept that sometimes love isn't enough.  Sometimes people can truly love each other, but internal issues or external circumstances can pull them apart regardless.  Now I'm not so sure.  After this weekend and all the tears I've cried and all the heart-wrenching agony and decision-making... I was sitting next to Brian at the airport, looking at him, feeling scared for the next month but confident in us, and I suddenly realized fully that we love each other.  We freaking love each other!  And that means that we put the other person's happiness above our own.  It means we trust each other to the ends of the earth.  It means we'd go through a heck of a lot for the other person.  And if that's true... if the feeling and trust and sacrifice is mutual, how could we not last through anything as long as we fight for it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still not 100% sure what I'm going to do.  Well, actually, I am.  I'm going to seek God's will and pray and focus on him through this.  I'm going to use this time to learn independence... emotional independence from anyone- parents, boyfriend, etc.  I'm going to lean on God and myself instead of other people.  And whatever the outcome, I'm going to get through this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God promised me once that I was going to be happy.  Not all the time, of course, and it's not like he promised me an easy life.  But he promised me contentment and joy.  I don't know... is it possible that God gives us decisions in our lives where there isn't a right answer?  Where either choice we make will lead to our eventual good, just by a different path?  And could those decisions be something as potentially huge as whether or not to break up with a boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm rambling now.  It's hard not to when I've got so many thoughts swirling around of which I am trying to make sense.  I guess, in conclusion, I think I may have underestimated the power of love.  I guess time will tell, really.  Time will tell.  Overall, I feel at peace that things will, in the very long run, turn out well for Brian and I, together or separately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for now, I'm still so scared.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-4915775774199496993?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4915775774199496993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=4915775774199496993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4915775774199496993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4915775774199496993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/10/love-conquers-all.html' title='Love conquers all...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-6162630102229216381</id><published>2008-09-04T19:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T19:38:25.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best Day.</title><content type='html'>You know, I've never had a "best day of my life" before.  I've had great times, great memories, all that stuff, but when I thought about what day would be the "best," nothing came specifically to mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't until yesterday that I realized that I finally have one... and I honestly don't think that it will be replaced for a long time.  I won't explain it all... too much of it was perfect to fit in a blog post.  But yeah, talking while sitting next to him on the dock with our feet in the water when it hit me that I just wanted to be where I was forever.  And then when I scraped the mayonnaise off his chicken sandwiches... which for some reason just made him so happy.  And then just sitting next to him at the pool, eating sunflower seeds, talking sporadically but mostly just sitting there.  And then, of course, later in the night when I told him I loved him and knew for absolute certainty that I meant what I said 100%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yeah, it was the best day ever.  Straight up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-6162630102229216381?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6162630102229216381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=6162630102229216381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/6162630102229216381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/6162630102229216381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/09/best-day.html' title='The Best Day.'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-7849382542021761451</id><published>2008-07-20T22:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T22:20:39.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams and the Subconscious</title><content type='html'>Don't worry.  I'm not going to "Freud."  (That was an example of a name being used as a verb, by the way.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All right, I do think that examining one's dreams can be helpful.  No, dreaming about a Roman centurion does not mean that you are dealing with resentment due to an overprotective father.  But I do feel like dreams shouldn't be immediately dismissed.  Dreams are your mind with no filter, and I think sometimes by dreaming you can discover things you never would have allowed yourself to discover otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I had a dream today, when I was half awake and half asleep... I dreamt that Brian was with another girl.  We must have broken up or something, and he was telling her all the nice things he's told me.  And I knew that he meant them and that she was better for him than I was and made him more happy than I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was weird.  It's still bothering me just because, upon thinking about it, I realized that it completely embodied my fears of what will happen... that I will just be the next girl that won't work out for him and that when he moves on he won't remember me as anything special.  And I still feel this despite the times he's told me in all sincerity differently (not that we'll never break up or anything creepy like that, just so you know).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it all boils down to trust.  That's an interesting thought.  Maybe the reason I have this fear is because I haven't totally put my trust in him yet.  And trust is the most important part of a relationship, so maybe I need to work on that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-7849382542021761451?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7849382542021761451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=7849382542021761451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/7849382542021761451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/7849382542021761451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/07/dreams-and-subconscious.html' title='Dreams and the Subconscious'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-7892662067641356048</id><published>2008-06-14T23:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T23:04:02.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two side notes</title><content type='html'>a) That got really long really fast.  That's what she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b) Will I ever learn that stalking and snooping is a bad idea?  Or rather, will I ever let the lesson I've learned multiple times keep me from doing the same thing over and over again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-7892662067641356048?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/7892662067641356048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=7892662067641356048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/7892662067641356048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/7892662067641356048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/06/two-side-notes.html' title='Two side notes'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-2991028352474096396</id><published>2008-06-14T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T22:44:03.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Because this is how I work things out</title><content type='html'>I’m scared.  I’m terrified.  To begin, you’ve got to understand something about me.  I’m very careful about what I say.  People who know me will immediately disagree because I have no filter.  That’s true.  Perhaps I should reword my claim.  When it comes to those things in life that matter, I’m very careful about what I say.  All you have to do to see that that’s true is consider that I dated a guy that I was crazy about for nine months and never said “I love you” because I wasn’t sure.  Turns out, I never was in love.  And I’m glad I held off on saying it because I would have been a lot more hurt.  There’s one thing I never want to do… I never want to be the girl who “loves” a guy, and when she breaks up with him and gets another boyfriend says, “Oh, I thought I loved *blank* but I didn’t even know what love was.  I really love *new guy*.”  And then the cycle would repeat.  I don’t want to say “I love you” unless I will look back on the relationship thirty years later and say, “Yes, I did love him.”  And it’s not just the phrase “I love you.”  It’s other phrases of importance too, even back in the day it was “I like you.”  When I told Tom after Christmas Break that I would always care about him, it was true.  I still care about him.  I always will.  I feel like making sure I mean what I say is a duty I have both to myself and to others.  If I say things I’m not sure I mean, when they turn out to be untrue, everyone is hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He’s not like me.  I trust that what he says reflects how he feels.  I’m just not sure that what he feels represents the truth.  I don’t trust that what he feels is anchored on something solid.  I get the feeling sometimes that his emotions cloud his reason and his judgment.  I’ve been hurt before by people saying things they didn’t mean.  Maybe that’s why I’m more sensitive to being hurt now.  But how can I trust that I’m his best friend like he says or that I’m the best thing that ever happened to him if he’s said things like this to other girls as well?  I feel the need to be differentiated from the people of his past, but what if there’s nothing left that he can say or do for me that hasn’t already been done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it’s too early to want to feel special.  No, not maybe.  It is too early to expect to feel special, to expect to feel like I’ve somehow already lifted myself above the others.  I guess maybe the reason that I’m worrying about this right now is because… well, because I’m falling for him.  I feel so at ease around him… far more so than I do with all but my closest friends.  He makes me laugh and smile more than pretty much anyone ever has.  And anything is fun when he’s around.  I’m hitting that point.  When it comes to boys and me, things tend to work as follows:  a boy starts to like me, and seemingly likes me a lot.  I’m a bit more stand-offish.  But then, in turn, I start to like them.  I start to like them a lot.  I start to like them more than they like me.  And then they lose interest.  And I think I’ve hit the point where the stand-offishness goes to hell and I fall hard.  And, of course, if the past repeats itself, this is the point where he will slowly lose interest and I will lose even the hope and illusion that maybe there was something different about me.  I don’t want to screw this up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what makes me different from others to whom he’s said all that he’s said to me and more?  I honestly don’t know.  Nothing maybe.  But I’ve got to risk it.  And I don’t know if it’s because I’m a sick masochist or if it’s because I think this might potentially be a really good thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-2991028352474096396?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2991028352474096396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=2991028352474096396' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/2991028352474096396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/2991028352474096396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/06/because-this-is-how-i-work-things-out.html' title='Because this is how I work things out'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6897980516955040523.post-6726616838537591948</id><published>2008-05-11T15:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T15:32:20.927-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What can you do?</title><content type='html'>What do you do when someone your pretty sure you still care about is making decisions in his life that you think will end up badly for him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easy answer.  Okay, now add the fact that he will assume you're giving him advice for the wrong reasons?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what if you're not even sure yourself what your intentions would be in telling him what you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You stay silent and realize it's not your life.  And I guess you pray for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a related note, something is bothering me, and I don't know what it is.  It could be any one or combination of a few things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-6726616838537591948?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6726616838537591948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=6726616838537591948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/6726616838537591948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/6726616838537591948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/05/what-can-you-do.html' title='What can you do?'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-8777855433633561509</id><published>2008-05-10T23:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T23:57:33.259-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An amazing quote...</title><content type='html'>There is a line in W.H. Auden's "September 1, 1939" which states, "We must love one another or die."  That in itself is a hugely powerful quote.  Just think about the importance that places on the both incredibly simple yet incomprehensible act of love... if we didn't love one another, that lack of connection with another human being would be enough to kill us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, Auden later changed the quote because he considered it dishonest.  A single changed word turns a powerful quote into an unforgettable one.  "We must love one another and die."  Loving each other will not keep us from our ultimate fate.  Love will not save us like so many people seem to believe.  Love is not a magical emotion that extends our life indefinitely.  Love does not make us immortal.  However, it's something we &lt;em&gt;must&lt;/em&gt; do.  As certain as death is love.  Death is the one thing that unites humans.  Despite all our differences, we must die.  But Auden adds another certainty, another connection.  Not only must we die, but we must love.  Love is as inevitable and as natural to the human condition as death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just think about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-8777855433633561509?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8777855433633561509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=8777855433633561509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8777855433633561509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8777855433633561509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/05/amazing-quote.html' title='An amazing quote...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-2111546278898247192</id><published>2008-05-03T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T23:02:06.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For no other reason...</title><content type='html'>...than the fact that I'm bored.  I suppose I'll begin by sharing some random revelations I've had lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I exist.  I stood up a few days ago and this concept suddenly passed through my head.  The next thought that ran through my head is that I am bad at existing and tend to waste a lot of said existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Recently, I was feeling a little whore-ish for really kind of liking a guy because Tom and I didn't break up that long ago.  Then I realized it's been over three months.  That's a pretty long time ago.  It's not like I'm going to rush out and start dating people, but I realized that I legitimately could if I wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'm really bad at homework.  Like, really bad.  I've been putting so much of it off.  Finals week is going to annihilate me.  Luckily I have a lot of leeway in most of my classes.  Hopefully it's enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The door next to us slams entirely too much.  Enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, I had surprisingly little to say.  That's interesting in itself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-2111546278898247192?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2111546278898247192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=2111546278898247192' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/2111546278898247192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/2111546278898247192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/05/for-no-other-reason.html' title='For no other reason...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-8500781667430725638</id><published>2008-04-30T16:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T16:15:43.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For the seventh time...</title><content type='html'>I just finished reading Lord of the Rings for the seventh time, I think.  Every time I read it through, I notice something different.  This is the first time I've read it since "The Return of the King" movie came out, and I think that fact influenced what I really noticed during this reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind was just blown by how important a part "The Scouring of the Shire" is to the story and most of all, to the characters.  I still understood why Peter Jackson left it out, so I won't rag on him... about that, anyway... I've got bigger bones to pick with him (like Faramir).  My argument for "The Scouring of the Shire" has always been that it really portrays the pervasiveness of evil-- that nothing can escape its taint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, though, I realized how important the final episode was to the character of each of the hobbits.  Throughout the story, they all change and grow, and you see that happening, but the scouring basically serves as a before-and-after picture.  You can see the early Frodo/Sam/Merry/Pippin in the hobbits of the Shire... their fear and uncertainty.  But after the adventure, they have such a greater understanding of everything, from logistical things like raising armies to internal things like the importance of courage and standing up for what is right.  Their growth is really made obvious by the final chapters of the story... that's what makes "The Scouring of the Shire" so darn great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-8500781667430725638?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8500781667430725638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=8500781667430725638' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8500781667430725638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8500781667430725638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/04/for-seventh-time.html' title='For the seventh time...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-8619611946467087582</id><published>2008-04-28T19:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T19:13:56.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trivial Pursuit</title><content type='html'>It puts everything into perspective... I think about the things that were bugging me two days ago and then think about Dan and his family and the guys in the car with him and what this whole campus is facing now, and I realize how trivial the other stuff is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weird thing is, even now life goes on.  Kids are playing frisbee in the Loop.  I celebrated my A on the paper.  Even Collin who was in the car was in class today.  The world doesn't stop... not that it should, or anything.  It's just interesting to think that something this huge happens, and the river of life has to flow around it-- a rock interrupting the flow, changing the course of the river, but not stopping it at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you say?  What do you do?  I saw Justin (who was also in the wreck) today in passing, and I just said, "I'm really glad to see you're okay... I'm praying for you guys."  And that's all I can do.  There's a different kind of solidity to this problem than the trivial ones.  What I do does affect my grades, my relationships, my silly little problems, but this is set in stone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's interesting that this incident has relieved my worry about everything.  I'm sad and distressed, yes, but the worry I've had recently about tests and papers and track has dissipated I suppose because life has been brought into perspective again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this is all just a bunch of ramblings that should have been a comment but will instead become a post.  I guess I'm just trying to work my way through what happened, which is never a bad thing to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-8619611946467087582?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8619611946467087582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=8619611946467087582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8619611946467087582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8619611946467087582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/04/trivial-pursuit.html' title='Trivial Pursuit'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-1202410877278940094</id><published>2008-04-28T12:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T12:51:28.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's not fair.</title><content type='html'>I hate the phrase "It's not fair."  It's stupid.  It doesn't solve anything.  Of course life isn't fair, but somehow we only comment upon the unfairness when it works against us.  I try my best to not use it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can't do anything else in this case.  One of the guys who got in the wreck died this morning.  It was the guy I didn't know, but I'm still crying.  And I just think of him and his youth and his family and how it's not fair.  And I feel like I can't even comprehend what has just happened... it just doesn't make logical sense.  And I feel so bad for my friends who were close to him... in the car with him... and I realize that it could have been them that died... and I would be in the position that they are in now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's not fair.  And life isn't fair.  And life doesn't make sense.  And sometimes I wonder if it ever will.  But then I realize it can't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-1202410877278940094?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1202410877278940094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=1202410877278940094' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/1202410877278940094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/1202410877278940094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-not-fair.html' title='It&apos;s not fair.'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-611702460865650355</id><published>2008-04-27T02:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T02:12:34.809-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Frailty of Human Life</title><content type='html'>They are all okay (well, alive and going to stay that way, though there were some bad injuries), but some of my friends got into a bad car wreck this weekend.  One of my pretty good friends, one guy that I know through track, one guy that I just met recently but really think is awesome, one guy that I know a little, and one guy that I've never met... it's scary to think how close it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an e-mail from a mutual acquaintance of ours telling us about their wreck... each of the guys' condition was listed there, and my stomach just sank when I read the words "wreck" and realized that it was people that I knew.  I almost started crying even as I just scanned the e-mail looking for information on if they were okay.  As I found each of their names, I just got more and more scared about the rest of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were going to Montana to brand cattle at one of the guy's grandparents' farm.  And yesterday I waved to them and said, "Bye guys!  Have fun at the farm!"  That could have been the last thing I ever said to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just keep thanking God over and over again that they're all right.  I'm pretty sure I'm going to freak out when I see Collin and just start spouting out how glad I am that he's alive.  Also, I'll probably force him to give me a hug.  I may request a hug from Ben and Justin too, when I run into them next.  Geez, the nerve of those boys going around and scaring me like that... heh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-611702460865650355?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/611702460865650355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=611702460865650355' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/611702460865650355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/611702460865650355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/04/frailty-of-human-life.html' title='The Frailty of Human Life'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-5223072695673090590</id><published>2008-04-12T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T08:37:31.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't want to...</title><content type='html'>-Write my Brit Lit paper&lt;br /&gt;-Write my Tolkien paper&lt;br /&gt;-Do my reading for Critical Strategy&lt;br /&gt;-Work out today&lt;br /&gt;-Work out ever again&lt;br /&gt;-Do track anymore&lt;br /&gt;-See anyone from track anymore (with the exception of about three people)&lt;br /&gt;-Be in college&lt;br /&gt;-Work hard&lt;br /&gt;-Care about anything anymore&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-5223072695673090590?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5223072695673090590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=5223072695673090590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/5223072695673090590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/5223072695673090590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-dont-want-to.html' title='I don&apos;t want to...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-4227422858150756285</id><published>2008-04-04T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T22:21:02.102-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Motivation</title><content type='html'>During practice today, Toby asked us what motivates us.  And I couldn't come up with one thing.  The funny thing is, he asked us the same question last year.  And I had an answer.  And I remember the answer.  And it seems like this year the answer just doesn't fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year my motivation to work my hardest all the times was the fact that I knew I should try my hardest at what I did for God and stuff.  This year... well, I guess I intellectually know that, but I just don't feel it.  I don't care about anything (people excluded, of course).  The only reason I work at anything is out of habit.  I just don't give a crap anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's just the time of year.  I certainly hope so, because when I realized how little anything I was doing meant to me, I was rather distressed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-4227422858150756285?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4227422858150756285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=4227422858150756285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4227422858150756285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4227422858150756285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/04/motivation.html' title='Motivation'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-459643384859831115</id><published>2008-03-28T01:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T01:47:19.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Note to Self:</title><content type='html'>I'm making this note now in case I need to look be reminded of this in the future.  Better to act unneccessarily ahead of time than to screw up by not acting soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTE:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've made some mistakes before, but they're worth it because you learned from them.  Don't make the same mistake again or you risk nullifying the value of those previous mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think.  Not too hard, but remember that when your brain and emotions disagree, your brain is probably right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't blind yourself from the similarities between the past and present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a smart girl.  Remember that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, remember Sartre.  Live in good faith.  Take control of your decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have fun!  Not everything is as big of a deal as you may make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be satisfied where you are at the moment.  Don't think too hard about the uncontrollable aspects of the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;END OF NOTE&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-459643384859831115?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/459643384859831115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=459643384859831115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/459643384859831115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/459643384859831115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/03/note-to-self.html' title='Note to Self:'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-4218566743850334795</id><published>2008-03-18T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T01:04:13.891-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Self-reflection in the Light of Current Situations</title><content type='html'>I decided now was a good time to document things that I learned in my past relationship.  I’m far enough away from it that I can look at it objectively, but it’s still close enough to remember well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I’m terrified of being “that girl.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not high maintenance.  I’m low key.  But I was always scared to demand anything because I was afraid that I would be “that girl,” the high maintenance, clingy one.  I’ve seen so many other relationships from the sideline that I’ve sort of invented an image of what I need to do to be a good girlfriend.  Sometimes it’s bad like when I got a ride home from the airport with a stranger instead of telling him that he had to pick me up at the airport.  But sometimes it’s good.  It kept me from being “that girl” that stays in an unhealthy relationship just because she’s too scared to be on her own.  I think I learned a good deal about telling which is which.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Why I lash out…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have noticed a phenomenon in my reaction to events.  I can just take things in stride without ever getting mad for a long time.  Then, something totally tiny happens that is completely insignificant and I yell and get angry and then apologize for being a freak.  I finally understand why this is.  I think that I take things and take things and the reason I then freak out over something small is because it’s safe.  I can get my anger out, I can get my feelings out without having to face the consequences of actually owning up to them.  If I yell about something ridiculous, I can always just say, “I don’t know why I did that… I was just in a really bad mood for some reason.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I don’t express myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is along the lines of the other two.  I didn’t say anything about the problems we had until it was a make or break deal.  I didn’t say anything about how he was treating me until I couldn’t live like that anymore.  If I had said something sooner, before the issue had snowballed in my mind, then it would have been far easier to work things out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I need to make decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Partly from reading Tess and reading about her lack of decision making, I’ve realized that sometimes I just need to man up and make a choice.  Sitting in indecision forever won’t get me anywhere.  All I ever wanted to do was see if he still wanted to work things out.  I always wanted to put off relationship decisions for as long as possible.  And in the end, that just caused me a lot of undue stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I can have a break-up and not be bitter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nice to discover this.  I don’t hate him.  I realized around Christmas Break that no matter what happened between us I would always care about him.  And I still do.  And I still believe I always will.  I’m glad to be single, my quality of life went up a lot after we broke up, he hurt me a lot, but I’m not mad at him.  Right now I’m at the point where I believe he has a good heart but is very immature and doesn’t know how to deal with life.  I honestly hope he grows up and learns what he wants and ends up happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, a list of things that I learned because of this relationship/break-up.  And my general opinion is that an experience is worth the pain it causes if you can take at least one lesson from it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-4218566743850334795?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4218566743850334795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=4218566743850334795' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4218566743850334795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4218566743850334795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/03/self-reflection-in-light-of-current.html' title='Self-reflection in the Light of Current Situations'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-580737949461890408</id><published>2008-03-17T23:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-17T23:16:35.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is this the real life?  Is this just fantasy?</title><content type='html'>I had the oddest experience earlier today.  A little background info is required, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of months ago, I had a dream that I was in class.  In the midst of class, I remembered that I was supposed to be on vacation and that I was certain I had gone to sleep in my bed at home the night before.  This dream still felt 100% real, but the only way I could explain the strange turn of events was that I was, in fact, dreaming.  I turned to a girl in my class and told her this.  She looked at me like I was crazy and I felt a little crazy myself considering I still felt like I was awake.  Then I closed my eyes really tight and forced myself awake.  Lo and behold, I woke up in my bed at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I was taking a test… a very long test that had me spaced out entirely and in a bit of a dream world.  I circled the wrong answer (with my pencil… pencil kicks pen’s butt anytime), but when I went to erase it, it wouldn’t erase.  I tried my eraser on other pencil marks and that worked just fine.  I was about to just move on when I had the exact same realization that I had a couple of months ago.  The only way to explain pencil marks that WON’T erase seemed to be that I was dreaming.  So I sat there for a few moments with no idea if I was awake or asleep.  I thought about asking someone, but in addition to not wanting to embarrass myself if I was awake, it wouldn’t have done any good if I was asleep.  After performing a couple of reality checks (trying to wake up, seeing if I could rearrange letters on a page, etc.)  I determined that I must be awake.  And I was.  But for probably half an hour after, I still had a weird, nagging feeling that perhaps I was asleep after all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-580737949461890408?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/580737949461890408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=580737949461890408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/580737949461890408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/580737949461890408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/03/is-this-real-life-is-this-just-fantasy.html' title='Is this the real life?  Is this just fantasy?'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-6831159256350474002</id><published>2008-03-02T13:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T13:53:11.480-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Good Man is Hard to Find</title><content type='html'>Actually, I'm not lamenting about men.  I've done that enough recently.  I'm lamenting about the paper I have to write about Flannery O'Conner's short story "A Good Man is Hard to Find."  And actually, this might fit more under the category of "procrastination" as opposed to "lamentation."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to start this paper on the bus ride home yesterday.  I had seven hours.  I wrote "A Good Man is Hard to Find" at the top of a page.  I did do some other homework, but nothing that was due on Monday like this paper is.  Oops.  I got back to the dorm at midnight, got to bed at 1:30, and set my alarm for 5:30 this morning so I could get up and do it before church.  I ended up getting up at 7:30.  Oops again.  I have a busy day today which is why I was going to get up early.  I go to Sunday School now so church lasts from 9:30 to 12:00.  I have track from 3:00 to 5:00.  I have to talk to Tom sometime this evening.  And I have small group from 8:00 to 9:00.  So yeah, I really should be working on this paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm done with two of the four pages, so I have a good start.  If each of my paragraphs is one half a page long, I'll end up with three.  In other words, I need to make sure that all of my paragraphs are slightly longer than one half a page.  I'm doing pretty well with that aspect so far.  In fact, I'm right on pace.  But yeah, I really don't want to do any more of this silly paper.  All I want to do today is take a nap... a very long nap.  I almost fell asleep in church today.  and I may not get much sleep tonight due to the whole "I'm doing a blog post instead of writing a paper" thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess maybe I should go and do the whole paper thing now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-6831159256350474002?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6831159256350474002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=6831159256350474002' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/6831159256350474002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/6831159256350474002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/03/good-man-is-hard-to-find.html' title='A Good Man is Hard to Find'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-6114372432596780219</id><published>2008-03-02T01:16:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T01:16:39.257-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Text</title><content type='html'>"When you get back could we talk?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-6114372432596780219?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/6114372432596780219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=6114372432596780219' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/6114372432596780219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/6114372432596780219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/03/text.html' title='A Text'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-9084192032409998570</id><published>2008-02-20T07:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T07:50:35.085-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's interesting.</title><content type='html'>It's interesting how I can invest nine months of my life in him-- give up a whole day helping him with a paper he put off, go to all of his home swim meets, quiz him on anatomy and physiology, meet his family, be there to listen to him and talk to him-- and then suddenly we don't even make eye contact or say hello when we cross paths so close to each other that we nearly run into each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like I know him less now than when we started going out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-9084192032409998570?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/9084192032409998570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=9084192032409998570' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/9084192032409998570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/9084192032409998570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/02/its-interesting.html' title='It&apos;s interesting.'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-4237413822886206942</id><published>2008-02-19T19:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T19:41:30.387-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A poem for class</title><content type='html'>This may be too sentimental and sappy.  I don't know.  We're supposed to write a poem focused on an object.&lt;br /&gt;_________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Borrowed Time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s not a particularly nice hat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It needs to be washed.&lt;br /&gt;There’s a man embroidered with faded red&lt;br /&gt;thread on the front who looks like he’s&lt;br /&gt;burning.  You say you got it from church camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t see the connection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I borrowed it and never remembered&lt;br /&gt;to give it back.  Then I started&lt;br /&gt;forgetting on purpose.  You never&lt;br /&gt;asked, and now I’m thankful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for our forgetfulness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m hungry, but as I open the door&lt;br /&gt;to leave my house, car keys&lt;br /&gt;in hand, hat pulled down low&lt;br /&gt;over my eyes, I stop, scared&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that you will see me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wearing the hat.  Scared&lt;br /&gt;that you will demand it back.&lt;br /&gt;I close the door again.  I have&lt;br /&gt;leftovers.  You belong to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;someone else now, but this small piece&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of you, this insignificant portion&lt;br /&gt;of your past that you forgot&lt;br /&gt;I borrowed&lt;br /&gt;is mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe someday you’ll remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-4237413822886206942?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4237413822886206942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=4237413822886206942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4237413822886206942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4237413822886206942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/02/poem-for-class.html' title='A poem for class'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-5733758110951682452</id><published>2008-02-15T12:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T12:27:46.215-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not moving on yet, but moving forward</title><content type='html'>I talked to my mom last night... and I feel a lot better now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, just knowing that I made it through a ridiculously awful day is uplifting.  If I could make it through yesterday, I can make it through any one day that this situation is going to cause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, my mom told me that God promised her that I would be better by Easter.  Easter is on March 23 this year.  Ironically, Lent just started.  Some people give up chocolate for Lent... looks like I'm giving up happiness.  Although I knew that I would start feeling better eventually, having a time frame in which that is going to happen takes a huge burden off of me.  I'm no longer staring blankly into a void wondering how long I'll have to wander through the darkness before I reach the end.  There's something that I can work towards, a visible goal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still sad.  I'm sure I haven't cried for the last time.  I still like him... a lot.  And I still feel sad when I think that this will be just a blip in the radar of my life because that means that he himself will just be a blip in my life and I'll just be a blip in his, worthy of no more than a sentence or two story to my possible future kids when they ask about my first boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know that I'll be better.  And I know that as hard as things are right now, it's worth it.  I know I made the rightd decision.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-5733758110951682452?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5733758110951682452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=5733758110951682452' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/5733758110951682452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/5733758110951682452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/02/not-moving-on-yet-but-moving-forward.html' title='Not moving on yet, but moving forward'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-4650670987365733232</id><published>2008-02-14T06:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T06:59:29.502-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What the WTF?</title><content type='html'>I feel sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was doing homework early this morning... got bored... checked my Facebook... decided to stalk him (hey, I stalk everyone else too, right?)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wrote "Happy Valentine's Day" on some girl's wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pissed.  And sad.  And pissed that I'm sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-4650670987365733232?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4650670987365733232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=4650670987365733232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4650670987365733232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4650670987365733232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/02/what-wtf.html' title='What the WTF?'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-49962717530471867</id><published>2008-02-02T14:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T14:53:06.074-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep... who needs it?</title><content type='html'>I just tried to take a nap.  It didn't work.  Every time I try to fall asleep, I start crying instead.  Now I remember why I stayed up until two or three in the morning every night for the first two thirds of senior year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-49962717530471867?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/49962717530471867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=49962717530471867' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/49962717530471867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/49962717530471867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/02/sleep-who-needs-it.html' title='Sleep... who needs it?'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-8304215049751052032</id><published>2008-01-31T23:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T23:28:23.388-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I wonder.</title><content type='html'>How can I fully know that a certain decision is what is best for me and still feel miserable?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I feel things so deeply?  Will I ever even be able to function in the world when everything hurts so much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of thought it would get easier.  Now I'm scared that it will be just as hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to know.  It's going to be a miserable two days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate that this is affecting me so much.  It makes me feel weak.  It makes me feel out of control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday in church we sang my favorite song.  I'm not usually one for posting lyrics, but this hymn is just a beautiful promise.  I'll type out the second verse because it's my favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many times Satan whispered,&lt;br /&gt;"There is no need to try,&lt;br /&gt;For there's no end to sorrow,&lt;br /&gt;There's no hope by and by."&lt;br /&gt;But I know thou art with me&lt;br /&gt;And tomorrow I'll rise&lt;br /&gt;Where the storm never darkens the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till the storm passes over,&lt;br /&gt;Till the thunder sounds no more,&lt;br /&gt;Till the clouds roll forever from the sky.&lt;br /&gt;Hold me fast, let me stand&lt;br /&gt;In the hollow of thy hand,&lt;br /&gt;Keep me safe till the storm passes by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's nice to know that no matter how much things suck, they will get better and that until then God himself is protecting us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-8304215049751052032?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8304215049751052032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=8304215049751052032' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8304215049751052032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8304215049751052032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-wonder.html' title='I wonder.'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-8048408093403789068</id><published>2007-12-31T23:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-31T23:50:17.461-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcoming in the New Year!</title><content type='html'>Well, it's a new year, and before I look into the future (my views of which will inevitably be wrong), I'm going to look into the past year a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you had told me my future last year this time, I never would have believed you that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. A year later I would have a boyfriend of eight months.  In fact, I'm still not sure I believe this myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I would get a stress fracture to interrupt that track season and mono to interrupt this one (well... actually... knowing my luck I might have taken your word on this topic).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I would spend the next summer dealing with an algae-infested pool with dead rats in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Laura would start hurdling and completely own my times after a few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Within the year, I would become surrounded by my friends' tangled web of drama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Jordan and I would stop hating each other (or rather, that our "friend/enemy" relationship would start focusing more on the friend aspect).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I would actually have the guts to share my creative writing with an entire class of peers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I would actually enjoy Core 250.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how have I changed over the year?  It's a little hard to just pinpoint it... I think I've learned a lot about dealing with stressful situations in a manner that helps solve them.  I've learned that sometimes just making it through isn't enough.  I have to consciously make an effort to improve things; I can't just hide from my problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned I'm a lot more like my older sister than I thought.  We're not polar opposites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned I have a fear of rejection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've continued to confirm what I've suspected and feared for awhile-- I'm growing calloused to the pain of others because I don't want to feel it.  But also, I know that I still possess empathy because I've felt pain for others even when I don't want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned I'm really quite easy-going when it comes to getting along with other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned I'm obsessive about schoolwork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that I've lost my passion for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned that it's harder for me to follow God in the good times than in the bad times when I really have to lean on him for my very survival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, New Year's Resolutions?  Well, knowing full well I can't keep any of them, I'll come up with a few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Write more.  Plan out a novel, or write one, or start with short stories.&lt;br /&gt;2. Find a passion.  Whether it be rediscovering one or finding something different, get excited about something.&lt;br /&gt;3. Deal with my insecurity.  If I'm not 100% confident a relationship is right, why should I get hurt when the other party isn't sure either?&lt;br /&gt;4. Chillax.  I gave myself mono this semester, and I don't want to get in this situation again.&lt;br /&gt;5. Be more serious about my devotions and relationship with God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In general, then, I guess I want to stop being lame.  It won't happen, but with any luck, I will get at least slightly less lame.  And life's a journey... if I was rid of all my problems, it'd be over and there'd be nothing left for which I could strive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-8048408093403789068?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8048408093403789068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=8048408093403789068' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8048408093403789068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8048408093403789068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/12/welcoming-in-new-year.html' title='Welcoming in the New Year!'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-1675293495216986861</id><published>2007-12-28T00:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T00:25:49.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'>For serious, yo.</title><content type='html'>I need to stop theorizing.  Geez, I take one philosophy class and suddenly place it upon myself to figure out love, of all things.  How presumptuous and arrogant!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-1675293495216986861?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1675293495216986861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=1675293495216986861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/1675293495216986861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/1675293495216986861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/12/for-serious-yo.html' title='For serious, yo.'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-5351768872694660629</id><published>2007-12-27T23:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T00:13:56.015-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One last time...</title><content type='html'>Okay, this is the last time I'll ponder about love because I think I've got it figured out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's true!  I actually think I've decided what I believe about love and how a current certain someone fits into that description.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that there are three parts to true (romantic) love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Attraction:  This includes things like personality as well as physical appearance.  This is why you think their random quirks and silly personality traits are cute.  This is why I like that he walks like a duck, this is why I hug him so much, this is why I like it that he says his m's like n's.  And yeah, this is what tends to fade as a relationship ages, but (and maybe this is idealistic) I don't think you should ever completely stop getting that kind of joy from a significant other.  I think there should always be things about them that make you smile and say, "Awwww...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caring: This is one of the parts that takes a while to develop, and can basically be described in terms of Christian love, Corinthians 13.  You're willing to give things up to help them.  You truly desire them to be happy and you feel the pain that they're going through.  Enough has been said about this by multitudes of people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Commitment:  Honestly, I think that this is the part of "romantic love" that I would add on that maybe other people wouldn't.  Some would, of course, but I think a lot of people just use the first two which is why the word "love" is thrown around so much these days (and, of course, some people just base it on the first, which is crazy).  I guess the question I would ask myself here is, "Can I see myself with this person for my whole life?"  I guess this requires some practical application, and for me this is where my emotions and reason come into conflict.  There are still some things about him that make me doubt if we are a good match long term.  He's pretty darn addicted to video games.  He doesn't take correction well at all.  I'll never be able to have philospohical or literary conversations with him.  Sometimes when he talks to his family, he can be very harsh; I don't want someone talking like that to me years down the road.  He skips church pretty often even though he knows how important it is to me.  Will he be able to graduate from college and get a job?  This is where I run into problems.  I &lt;em&gt;like&lt;/em&gt; him, I &lt;em&gt;care&lt;/em&gt; about him.  The uncertainty about commitment is what lets me know that I don't love him and gives me doubts as to whether I will ever be able to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-5351768872694660629?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5351768872694660629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=5351768872694660629' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/5351768872694660629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/5351768872694660629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/12/one-last-time.html' title='One last time...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-4104646374139507358</id><published>2007-12-09T23:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T00:15:44.938-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's everywhere!</title><content type='html'>So, um... Brit Lit before 1800 is stalking me.  Today I went to a church I hadn't been to before.  The pastor speaking was named Faust.  Not only that, but he talked about Mystery Plays at the beginning of the service.  I kept turning to my friend and saying, "I know about this!  They had plays from all the major Bible stories!  They would perform them all year long!  They had a special order!"  I got weird looks.  Anyway, the whole sermon was then about the fall of man, and the whole time I was thinking, "CONVULTED SYNTAX!!!  The fall of man equals the fall of reason!  Paradise Lost!"  It was sad.  I went to church and studied for Brit Lit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-4104646374139507358?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4104646374139507358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=4104646374139507358' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4104646374139507358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4104646374139507358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/12/its-everywhere.html' title='It&apos;s everywhere!'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-86187160144299563</id><published>2007-12-08T00:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-08T01:07:44.969-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What is love, love...</title><content type='html'>Baby, don't hurt me... don't hurt me no more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll discuss a topic about which I have no authority because I can.  Due to a couple of events lately (that were entirely my fault with consequences that I fully deserve to deal with), I've been wondering about love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are in love, can you ever truly stop loving that person?  As much as things may change, as much as the relationship might go south, as much as the other person could do to hurt you, do you always have some love for the person, even if it's just for the person they used to be or even just the person you used to think they were?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not entirely sure this makes sense.  But what if you love someone, and they hurt you so badly you can't deal with it any longer?  And then you have to stop loving them, so it turns into resentment.  (What if emotions never go away?  What if they only change form?  Never mind...).  Is there a part of you that still loves them?  Is the resentment just love expressed differently to dull the pain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it interesting to think that if your relationship with someone ended after treating them to the best of your ability and truly caring about them, you would be only a blip on the radar of life, easily forgotten and ignored, where someone else from their past who treated them unfairly, unkindly, and showed no concern for them at all will still influence their life drastically because that someone "loved" them?  Maybe they still do, but it just hurts too much to admit it.  It all really depends on how one would answer the above questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because I still loved you..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-86187160144299563?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/86187160144299563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=86187160144299563' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/86187160144299563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/86187160144299563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/12/what-is-love-love.html' title='What is love, love...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-5260689080503134065</id><published>2007-12-04T14:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T14:46:39.616-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fortunate mistakes</title><content type='html'>So I wrote a poem on the topic of love in business class today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Tangent: I feel rather hypocritical writing about anything related to romantic love, because I've never been in love... I feel like if I don't understand something or at least know what it is like, I have no authority writing about it.  In fact, I've actually written a poem about not understanding love, in a way.  But this new poem, I suppose, was my interpretation of the events that happened to another person which is ever worse, I'd say, because I'm claiming to understand their experience and love, both things I know that I don't fully comprehend... ack.  I am far too tangental...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I got done with said poem and I thought, "I'll count the lines, and maybe I can adjust line breaks if it works."  Well, I counted the lines and there was no need.  Fourteen lines without even trying... that's a sonnet, baby!  BOOYAH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-5260689080503134065?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5260689080503134065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=5260689080503134065' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/5260689080503134065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/5260689080503134065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/12/fortunate-mistakes.html' title='Fortunate mistakes'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-1388078508174191301</id><published>2007-12-03T00:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T00:04:22.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy crap.</title><content type='html'>I write too much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-1388078508174191301?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1388078508174191301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=1388078508174191301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/1388078508174191301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/1388078508174191301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/12/holy-crap.html' title='Holy crap.'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-1323955141118781289</id><published>2007-12-02T22:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T23:05:36.265-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, the past...</title><content type='html'>So I've been thinking about the past lately. Not specific events, necessarily, but overarching themes and how my reactions to previous situations have determined my present. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I feel like I need to delve into it a little, so bear with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've decided that, as much as I agree with existentialism, you can't escape your past. As much as you decide not to let it affect you, it still will. Just by choosing to "not let it determine you" you are using your past as a litmus test for your actions. And there's a good reason that you can't escape your past. As soon as something happens, as soon as you make a decision, it becomes a part of you. You will now forever have to take that into account in future decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if I like it. I like to look back on hard times and unfair situations and think, "I'm over it. It's finished, I've grown stronger, the end." Well, I'm right on two accounts. It is finished, and I have grown stronger, but I can't ever be over it, and it's never the end. Whatever happens, my past will always be there. It won't end. I can look at my life at this very moment and see how past events are shaping me right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I dislike this so much? It's actually a pleasing idea... that bad experiences can shape us positively. But it's not, and I think there are two reasons. One... I don't want to remember them. I value the lessons that I've learned, but I want to retain the lessons while forgetting the pain involved in learning them. But I know that's impossible. If I forget the pain, it's only a matter of time before I forget the lesson as well. Two... sometimes I think I still let the past affect me negatively. Sometimes I think that, though I honestly don't think about it that much, that I let it define me and control me, not influence and guide me. I feel like it's unescapable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This all brings me to one final topic (almost done, really... got homework to do). Sometimes, well, maybe a little more than that, I think about what would have happened if things in my life had gone differently. I wonder where I would be now. What if I had decided to do winter track instead of basketball my senior year? What if I had said no when a certain boy asked me to a banquet? What if I had gone to George Fox? What if something had happened between me and a different certain boy I liked? What if I had decided that it was stupid to start something a month before summer? And then to the future. What if I decide to go to Ireland? What if I stopped being a heptathlete? What if I were to screw the Brit Lit final and just wing it? Each of these decisions will be like the ones in the past and will affect me for the rest of my life, and that's scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to deal with it. I see why people live for only the present. The past is depressing and the future is terrifying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-1323955141118781289?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1323955141118781289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=1323955141118781289' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/1323955141118781289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/1323955141118781289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/12/oh-past.html' title='Oh, the past...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-3898952187211789590</id><published>2007-11-27T23:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T23:27:17.895-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings of my relatively unstable mind.</title><content type='html'>I find it interesting that with all the things that have been flying through my head lately that I have nothing to say.  It's almost like I can't quite verbalize what I'm thinking.  Or maybe I just don't want to.  Maybe I'm starting to think things that I'm not ready to consider, let alone accept, right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I'm wondering/worrying about a lot of things.  How does one make decisions?  I like Kierkegaard's concept where you choose to believe something and then make a leap of faith in acting on that belief, but I don't know how to choose what to believe.  There are so many decisions in my life that I'm facing right now, and I just don't know what to do.  I'm afraid if I don't start deciding to DO things, I'll simply keep rejecting things because "I'm just not sure" and I'll end up never accomplishing anything and all alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School is stressing me out.  Yesterday in Core, the prof talked about a phenomenon that occurs when women go to college.  They lose confidence in their scholastic ability.  And it's true.  That's what happened to me.  I constantly feel like a terrible student, even if I'm getting all &lt;em&gt;A&lt;/em&gt;s.  Why is that?  Why am I constantly plagued by feelings of inadequacy?  I know that I'm not inadequate.  For goodness' sake, I run track in college, I have a 3.9+ GPA, I have great friends... why the heck to I feel this way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that's been bugging me, even though I know it shouldn't... it almost feels like, even though I am really close to my friends, that they don't feel comfortable confiding in me.  They all seem closer to each other.  It makes sense because they all live around here, but sometimes I'll just feel out of the loop.  Kate talks to Jeska, Jeska talks to Kate, Brian talks to them both, Waldo talks to Kate, but I'm the one no one confides in.  And the thing is, I think it's my fault.  According to Interpersonal Communications, if you self-disclose, then others are likely to self-disclose in return.  And I don't do that.  I don't self-disclose except to a very short list of people.  In fact, right now, I can only think of three that I would feel comfortable &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; pouring out my troubles to.  None of them are here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm feeling creatively unfulfilled.  I want to do stuff that I really care about.  I want to come up with a theory that vampirism is caused by prions.  I want to make a Princess Zelda costume, I want to find out what happens at the end of a fantasy novel I started a couple years ago, I want to write &lt;em&gt;Keeper of Magic and Memories&lt;/em&gt;.  I don't want to write about the way different writers portray lust.  I don't want to write a scene from my childhood.  I don't want to learn about business.  I want to create something with meaning for myself.  Maybe I like stock horror books.  Maybe I like modern fantasy.  Maybe I can't think of anything more fun than creating a story line for the next Zelda game or reading a short story by Stephen King.  Maybe that's how I become creative instead of through other means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, looks like I had quite a bit to say after all.  And I'm feeling much better for writing it.  I suppose the only thing I need to remember is that, whether I pass or fail, whether I'm happy or unhappy, tomorrow will come, the sun will rise, and life will go on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-3898952187211789590?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/3898952187211789590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=3898952187211789590' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/3898952187211789590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/3898952187211789590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/11/ramblings-of-my-relatively-unstable.html' title='Ramblings of my relatively unstable mind.'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-4040680513768889142</id><published>2007-11-20T00:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T01:05:58.283-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am the worst person.</title><content type='html'>During Core 250, we talked about Jean-Paul Sartre.  We had to write ourselves a letter from him stating his opinion on our career choice.  Basically, Sartre focuses on the concept of human choice and how often humans give away that choice by letting society define them.  Instead of making authentic decisions, he says, humans will simply make decisions that society views as safe, good, acceptable, etc. as a way to keep from having to take responsibility of our actions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, Sartre told me that I was being unauthentic and letting society define me by giving up on my former career choice of being a writer.  (What can I say?  I realized I was in no way good enough AT ALL...)  He told me that I am choosing contentment over creativity and am not reaching outside of myself to make myself as good as I can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the thing is, he's right.  He's so right that it's almost painful to think about.  I'm scared, I don't want to be the only one responsible for my success/failure so I'm lying to myself and giving away my God-given freedom (of course, he was an atheist, so he wouldn't agree with that) to society.  And the really sad thing... the thing I most wish was untrue but cannot deny... is that I honestly don't care.  I would rather give up my freedom than face the nausea of acknowledging its existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's worse... a person who does not see the truth or a person who sees the truth and actively makes the decision to forget it again?  I'm pretty sure that answer is obvious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-4040680513768889142?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4040680513768889142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=4040680513768889142' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4040680513768889142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4040680513768889142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-am-worst-person.html' title='I am the worst person.'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-5346413950150712003</id><published>2007-11-14T22:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T22:53:30.408-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eric, you bore me!</title><content type='html'>So, apparently the life of a recovering alcoholic is lame and boring.   What should happen to Eric now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story so far... Eric was an alcoholic, his wife left him.  He met an ex-priest, ex-convict who provides some interesting anecdotes and insight.  He falls off the wagon, drives drunk, gets caught, and now has to do community service.  He meets a girl there, but nothing is going to happen between them because after two minutes I knew they just didn't jive.  They can be friends, though.  She has a past, but I don't know what yet.  His ex-wife is pregnant, and his former mother-in-law had a stroke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me what to do next!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-5346413950150712003?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/5346413950150712003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=5346413950150712003' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/5346413950150712003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/5346413950150712003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/11/eric-you-bore-me.html' title='Eric, you bore me!'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-4226614616243001612</id><published>2007-11-12T08:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T08:46:39.382-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Home Stretch</title><content type='html'>I'm at that point where I'm just trying to make it through to Thanksgiving.  One more full week.  I don't even want to think about after Thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling a lot better than I did this weekend.  I finally got a good, deep night's sleep.  I finally don't feel sick today.  I'm finally feeling like I might be able to make it to Thanksgiving.  Still, though, I don't know if I can face the stretch to Christmas Break.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-4226614616243001612?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/4226614616243001612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=4226614616243001612' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4226614616243001612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/4226614616243001612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/11/home-stretch.html' title='The Home Stretch'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-2124952576731898442</id><published>2007-11-08T21:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T21:37:51.734-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Northern Ireland!!!</title><content type='html'>So, I talked to the lady in charge of students studying abroad and such today and told her that I would be interested in studying abroad first semester next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have to pay my regular tuition, the plane flight, $315 application fee, and $50 a month for insurance, which isn't a bad deal... except for the Whitworth tuition part, but I've become resigned to that.   One of the universities I could study at is in Northern Ireland where my grandpa is from.  Apparently I still even have relatives there!  (Of course, they don't know me, but they actually know my mom!)  It would be really cool, but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, there's a few things.  First, it's so far away.  I went to Whitworth for a reason.  It's still sort of close to home.  If anything goes terribly wrong (stress fracture, say) my mom or dad can come up and help me.  Second, track.  I could still do track, but I feel like I'd be missing out on a lot of good work in the fall semester if I was gone.  Third, for some ridiculous reason, their first semester doesn't end at Christmas.  Finals are &lt;em&gt;after&lt;/em&gt; Christmas break, and the college closes over Christmas.  I wouldn't be able to have Christmas with my family AND I really wouldn't have a place to stay during Christmas, would I?  And fourth, due to that, I would have to give up not only one semester away but a Jan Term as well... can my four-year plan manage that?  Fifth... well, I'm a little strange, and this may sound paranoid, but what if everyone there hated me and I had a miserable semester alone, doing homework and not much else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sounds really cool... the classes I could take sound awesome, and when would I get the chance to stay in Ireland again, in the land of my ancestors?  I've always said studying abroad sounds like fun, but it's a little more difficult when it comes to making the decision.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-2124952576731898442?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2124952576731898442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=2124952576731898442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/2124952576731898442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/2124952576731898442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/11/northern-ireland.html' title='Northern Ireland!!!'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-2705638562621540450</id><published>2007-11-07T13:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T13:40:30.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Determinism vs. Existentialism</title><content type='html'>So this summer I struggled with the concept of whether or not people could really change, and it's been brought up again because of Eric (in my novel) and the fact that we are talking about determinisn and existentialism in Core 250, so I feel the need to revisit the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to me that people generally don't change.  Someone behaves in a certain way, and they stay that way.  People don't just get "nice" all of a sudden.  A leopard can't change his stripes, a "former alcoholic" is just an alcoholic waiting for an excuse to go back.  And so my intial thought it that people can't change.  A sad fact of human nature is that you can't go back and change your life.  It doesn't work that way.  It all felt rather cynical to me, and I liked it that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, there is always the exception.  There is always the person with the troubled past, with the bad mistakes, who uses those mistakes to learn and grow and become a better person, not devoid of the past, not forgetting it, but constantly aware of it and using it as a reminder of what used to be and of what should not be returned to.  And I realized that people can change.  Isn't that the whole point of Christianity?  With God's help we can live a new life, free from the sin we were once entrapped in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, what about my original observation?  That people who did an undesireable activity always turned back to it?  Even after they promised to change, it always drew them back, and they fell under it again? How could that be accounted for if people are free to change?  And then it hit me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People CAN change.  They can leave behind the past, use it to learn, become a better person, do good instead of evil.  They can.  But they don't.  Every day you're alive, every day I'm alive is an opportunity to change for the better.  It's all there to reach up and grasp.  People CAN change, but they DON'T.  Even though it's so simple (notice I didn't say 'easy') they choose instead day after to day to remain the same.  And I think (though some have disagreed) that this idea is far more depressing than the first.  It's not that we CAN'T change that makes me wonder about the decency of humans, it's actually that we CAN.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-2705638562621540450?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/2705638562621540450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=2705638562621540450' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/2705638562621540450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/2705638562621540450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/11/determinism-vs-existentialism.html' title='Determinism vs. Existentialism'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-494982280961234450</id><published>2007-11-06T18:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T18:48:05.987-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A poem I wrote awhile ago...</title><content type='html'>This is a poem I wrote during the poetry section of Creative Writing when I was basically churning out a poem a day...  I like the sound of it, despite the fact that I'm not 100% sure what it means...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try to Remember (please don’t forget)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feet hardened and calloused, walking&lt;br /&gt;(somewhere)&lt;br /&gt;stick worn smooth where the hand has grasped it while&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;traveling over rocky terrain.&lt;br /&gt;(was it rocky?  or muddy?)&lt;br /&gt;An endless cycle of backdrops scrolls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;past as traveling feet grow more and more heavy.&lt;br /&gt;(oh for the time before weariness!)&lt;br /&gt;Deep lines etched into the brow from years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of constantly narrowed eyes,&lt;br /&gt;(thinking, trying to remember)&lt;br /&gt;looking into the sun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and searching for something&lt;br /&gt;(forgotten now what it was)&lt;br /&gt;that will be recognized when found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A journey, no end in sight,&lt;br /&gt;(when was the beginning?)&lt;br /&gt;following the one command still remembered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Go west in morning,&lt;br /&gt;East in evening to keep your&lt;br /&gt;Shadow behind you.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-494982280961234450?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/494982280961234450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=494982280961234450' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/494982280961234450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/494982280961234450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/11/poem-i-wrote-awhile-ago.html' title='A poem I wrote awhile ago...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-8850184816989544416</id><published>2007-11-06T10:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T10:31:28.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Change in pace...</title><content type='html'>So, those of you that know me (which is anyone who would read this...) know that during November I always participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) where you write a novel in a month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This month, I was going to write about a group who starts a revolution just for the heck of it.  It was going to be an interesting study on society, change, apathy, and groupthink.  Instead, it just turned quite quickly into crap.  And five days in, I already hated it more than anything else.  It was worse than my novel in a day.  So I decided to start over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One problem.  Zero ideas.  I knew I needed to start over, but I had no idea what to do.  So I was going to the bathroom when suddenly I had a character and a starting scene in my mind.  He even came with a name.  Eric was drunk and being thrown out of a bar because they wouldn't serve drunks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I took it and ran.  I'm only 1775 words into this new story, but so far, Eric is an alcoholic who can't find a good job and is trying to support his wife.  He goes home, they get into an argument, he shoves her, and she tells him that she's pregnant and leaving.  Poor Eric!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, I'm liking this story a lot better.  Eric is a lot more in depth than any of the characters from my other novel.  Anna, Peter, Edward, and Carleigh, you guys can just rot!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-8850184816989544416?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/8850184816989544416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=8850184816989544416' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8850184816989544416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/8850184816989544416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/11/change-in-pace.html' title='Change in pace...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-1541052577334936717</id><published>2007-11-04T23:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T23:08:09.759-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My first societal rant...</title><content type='html'>What is it with society today?  It thinks of one of the worst things it does as a service. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids, teenagers, and even adults are bombarded with the idea that you can do anything if you try hard enough.  A boy who loves basketball says he wants to be in the NBA when he grows up, and his teacher says, “Well, just keep on practicing, and maybe you will be someday.”  And it’s a lie.  The teacher is outright lying to a little boy who doesn’t know better than to believe him.  The kid is short, scrawny, not all that athletic, and he is being told he can be the best of the best.  Just wait till he hits freshman year of high school and gets cut from the team.  What will that do to him?  It will crush him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at least he was forced to face reality before some people.  What about the kid who dreams of being a doctor only to go to college for it and realize he’s not smart enough?  What about the kid who dreams of being a writer only to realize that in this case, it’s not about trying harder, it’s about giving up because he really doesn't have the talent? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adults think they’re helping their kids to achieve greatness when they urge them to chase their dreams.  But do you know what they’re doing?  They’re contributing to the millions of depressed adults and teenagers who have realized that they aren’t all they ever dreamed of, the people who have finally been forced by circumstance to accept the true nature of reality.  They’re forcing young people to come up with hopes and dreams for the sole purpose of being disappointed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can’t be whatever you want to be.  I can't be whatever I want to be.  No one can be what they want to be.  The American Dream is a lie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-1541052577334936717?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/1541052577334936717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=1541052577334936717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/1541052577334936717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/1541052577334936717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-first-societal-rant.html' title='My first societal rant...'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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-6897980516955040523.post-916579115214132915</id><published>2007-11-04T21:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T21:22:31.149-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So, what's up with the title?</title><content type='html'>I know it's a bit random, but I saw a blood moon one night, and my little sister and I decided that I needed to write a story or poem called "Under the Blood Moon."  Of course, I suck at that kind of thing, so I decided to name my blog that instead.  So yeah, that's where the title came from.  It's just so catchy I had to use it somewhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6897980516955040523-916579115214132915?l=underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/feeds/916579115214132915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6897980516955040523&amp;postID=916579115214132915' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/916579115214132915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6897980516955040523/posts/default/916579115214132915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://underthebloodmoon.blogspot.com/2007/11/so-whats-up-with-title.html' title='So, what&apos;s up with the title?'/><author><name>KTP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06926209609588218134</uri><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>
