<?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-2556069578745329184</id><updated>2011-07-07T14:12:40.374-07:00</updated><category term='fucking whatever'/><category term='motivation'/><category term='people'/><category term='our fucked up economy'/><category term='george bernard shaw'/><category term='superficial'/><category term='choices'/><category term='good people'/><category term='anger'/><category term='college'/><category term='last post'/><category term='philosophy'/><category term='goal'/><category term='australian wild fires animals wildlife'/><category term='rant'/><category term='Parallel Universes'/><category term='life'/><title type='text'>My Life...... With Typos.</title><subtitle type='html'>A peek into the enthralling life of Vesper McGee.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556069578745329184.post-4905046709465615356</id><published>2010-06-14T12:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T12:42:10.960-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='last post'/><title type='text'>Last</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;  It's been more than a year now since I've written in this blog. I've thought about coming back to it, but have either been too lazy to, or thought it better not to. A lot of the ugly from my life is in this blog. My life has changed a lot in the last three years. Rapidly, dramatically. It wasn't expected, really, no positive change was really expected. But, in that, I've gone against my own belief of the dawn coming after the storm. Storms still come and go, they always will, but that's just life I guess. I'm still sitting here, like I've always been, trying to figure out my life and what I'm supposed to do with it. It still scares me like hell, and I'm still really confused, but, thanks to a handful of people, I've been able to keep walking, stressed or not. But I'm still around, and I'm thankful for that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;  I think I might stop posting in this blog after this entry. I think it's time to move on from the part of my life that this blog contains. I'm ready to put it behind me, and leave it there. It took me three years to write that, and really make the final closing statement in my head, but at least it's happened. For anyone who reads this thing, sorry for always having been so crabby in here. haha. It's not the most pleasant sound of my voice resonating in this blog, I know. For that, I apologize. I started a new blog, one that I have made with the intention of tracking the happies in my life. I'm beginning to think it's probably really beneficial to reflect on the positive things in your life, that it will help keep you more happy. I've noticed that whenever I read over this fellow here, I only ever feel bad again. It's not a nice feeling really. I've called it "the.flip.side". The name sort of speaks for itself...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;  For anyone else who is still in this kind of place in their lives, I would like to say this: please don't stop moving forward. Always move forward, because no matter how long it takes and how bad it gets, I promise you, it will get better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;Catch you kids on the flip side. (No pun intended.)(Kind of.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;P.S. - Happy Birthday, my rubber ducky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-4905046709465615356?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/4905046709465615356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=4905046709465615356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/4905046709465615356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/4905046709465615356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2010/06/last.html' title='Last'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-4634281037484005360</id><published>2009-02-12T19:28:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T19:36:31.429-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='australian wild fires animals wildlife'/><title type='text'>Fires</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;It's so far said that the wildfires in Australia were intentionally set by an arson, some asshole. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;I just read an article in The Boston Globe about the animals that died in Victoria. In that same article, they reported that 181 humans have died. One hundred and eighty one humans, people, in a blazing inferno. Millions of animals more, who are even more so unable to escape something like an uncontainable fire. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;I can't understand why the hell someone would set off a fire like this, knowing full and well what kind of destruction it will cause. Why? Yeah, some people just want to watch the world burn. Maybe there are others who would like to see those people burn. I might be one of them, but I don't know yet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Does killing life mean nothing to you? It's one thing to try and do off with someone who is actually able to survive, and make it through. I'm not saying it's right at all, not in any way, but at least we as people are capable of getting out of those kinds of situations, somehow, even if the chances are minute. But living in Australia, you'd have to be the dumbest fuck out there to not know how much wildlife thrives in those woods. And to set all of that on fire, knowing that they can't help themselves even in the slightest, why would you do it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Some people are disgusting, and I can't fathom how or why they are still living on this planet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-4634281037484005360?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/4634281037484005360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=4634281037484005360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/4634281037484005360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/4634281037484005360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2009/02/fires.html' title='Fires'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-5525465515409607194</id><published>2008-11-22T19:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T14:09:27.424-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Color</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;I'm starting to wonder if I'm back at that bad place, and if things are going wrong again. I'm beginning to question why I feel hollow so suddenly, so unexpectedly. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;I think there's something wrong with me. Better yet, there is. I'm not your normal person, and I don't have a pretty little past. I'm partly your average Joe, partly your twisted teen. But more than that, and not in the middle, I'm nothing like the two, and I've put myself in some undefined space. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried to figure out who I am, and have only concluded that I know jack-shit. I've tried to find some place in life, only to realize it's not just too early, but that I end up where I started. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are near gray and black, and the multi-color's gone. The pictured frame is lacking shape, and I'm not sure where I'm at. This messy puddle has spilled over the brim, onto the floor surrounding all that is me. It is in this pool that I try to find myself, only to realize, I can't be freed. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;It's onto a new chapter, where I'm going to try again, to let things out, and let others in. If I can do it, I don't know, I'm not sure. Hopefully it will be done, because I won't stay here in this square. I've got things to do, and I'm going to get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;I'm tired of pencil, I'm going to use crayons, and color my little world with blue, green, and light. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;--V&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-5525465515409607194?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/5525465515409607194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=5525465515409607194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/5525465515409607194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/5525465515409607194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/11/color.html' title='Color'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-7728037396752978963</id><published>2008-08-30T17:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T19:39:00.807-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck You, Again.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;I wonder how many people in this world live the kind of life I live. I wonder how many people get flack from their teachers about their health, about not being smart enough, about not being capable of doing things. I wonder how many people know what it's like to be told by their parents that everyone in their child's pool of study is brighter than they are, or what it's like to be abused and not be allowed to talk about it for fear of what will happen. I wonder how many kids know what it's like to live in fear. I wonder how many truly know what it's like to be in a long distance relationship, to be in love with someone thousands of miles away, and not be able to hold and kiss them whenever you feel like it. I wonder how many kids my age have been put down their entire lives by everyone who surrounds them. I wonder how many of those kids still try to stand up at the end of the day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;I wonder how many have been stabbed in the back repeatedly by others who are supposed to be their best friends, in an endless cycle of friends who come and go. I wonder how many kids know what it feels like to be neglected by their parents, and grow up without them even when they're there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;I wonder how many kids really, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt; know what it feels like to be alone, and have no support from anyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;I wonder how many kids have been ripped apart, and forced to put themselves back together, by themselves, so no one can know that they are broken in the first place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;I wonder how many kids just wish that the rest of the world saw everyone for who they truly are, not the show they put on for others to see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;I wonder what's wrong with this world. What's wrong with me. What's wrong with you, and everyone around you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;--V&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-7728037396752978963?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/7728037396752978963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=7728037396752978963' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/7728037396752978963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/7728037396752978963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/08/fuck-you-again.html' title='Fuck You, Again.'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-5495878281202224796</id><published>2008-07-16T19:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T22:24:19.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The End.</title><content type='html'>What is with this constant take, and take, and take, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;no&lt;/span&gt; give?&lt;br /&gt;Who are you to think you can play this game with me? To think that you have some awe-some power that makes you so fucking great to take advantage of the person I am? You trot about whining and crying about all of your fucking problems, how people take advantage of you and how you hate it. But look at you, how are you ANY fucking different than them? A really well known quote goes as follows; 'You need to be the change you want to see in the world.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all of the time I have become aware of your existence, I have known you to be selfish. But when I first met you, I knew you not well enough to tell you so without seeming harsh or frank. Now, now I know you better than anyone else. I know the real you, what you are at your absolute worst, and how you are when you feel your best. I also know every single one of your in-betweens. For each, I have to unfortunately say, none of them are good, and that's what I can't understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before you had hit rock bottom, and before you subconsciously rearranged your entire structure, I knew your limbo's to have been better. I knew you to be genuine, and I defended that in front of the faces I fear and respect most. I did the opposite of what I stand to believe in their presence, I disrespected them in the worst possible way, to defend you and your petty self. And what for? What was any of that screaming, fighting, psychotisism good for? Absolutely nothing. Like many of the other things I thought I knew to be true about you, it all meant nothing. It's by far one of the biggest let-downs I have ever seen in the entirety of this semi-psuedo thing called friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps no rearranging had been done, maybe you never changed anything, and I have just been completely blind and naive to everything &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; have subconsciously known. Maybe it was my fault for ignoring the bland signs of nature, because I believe in second chances and finding the better in people. Maybe it's my own fault, for not really seeing you as you were when I had the chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from asking you who the fuck you think you are, I'd like to lay something down, something I should have done a long ass time ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this "friendship" means anything to you, you'll change from this self-absorbed bitch get-up you're so fucking sucked into. Really, get your head out of other people's asses and stop looking like and irresponsible idiot. I'm not your fucking mother, I'm done picking up this mess you've left behind, and I'm sure as hell done cleaning up after you. Learn to live the way you've made me live for more than a year now, learn to GET OVER SHIT &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;on your own&lt;/span&gt;, without the help of your friends, without someone there to constantly fucking baby you, like I've had to do for the past... how long? I'm done. I can't count anymore how many times I've told you 'Well, now you know how it feels.', and how many times it's traveled into one ear and out the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you know, I'm not fucking blind, and I'm sure as hell not stupid. I'm finished with people taking my hand for granted, and I'm done letting you feel all superior, and walk on me when you should be shaking my hand. Yeah, I know you've been through your share of shit. Open your eyes, you only know a fraction of the shit I've been going through &lt;i&gt;on top of&lt;/i&gt; dealing with the shit &lt;u&gt;you&lt;/u&gt; constantly throw at me, because you're too fucking busy being self-absorbed and selfish, doing nothing but looking for someone to cry your oh-so-terrible problems to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless you plan on changing and fixing shit sometime soon, as of right now, this friendship is done. I'm through fixing shit I shouldn't even care about. I'm not going to do my part AND yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Game Over.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Now, to hit 'Send'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-5495878281202224796?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/5495878281202224796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=5495878281202224796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/5495878281202224796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/5495878281202224796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/07/end.html' title='The End.'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-3731375018818917480</id><published>2008-07-02T08:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T19:39:30.786-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='our fucked up economy'/><title type='text'>Economy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;So, I just spent the last half hour talking to my mom about, basically, the economy. I came to find that neither of my parents have taken a pay check in over 6 months. We're living totally on savings my parents have kept in the past years. See, my parents run a shop. They make money off of what customers buy in the shop, but with the economy being such a butt fucker, people don't have money to spend. Without consumers having money to spend, vendors will receive no money, and so, make no profit because their products are still holding a literal shelf life. With those products still being on the shelf, those vendors obviously will have no literal or metaphorical bread and butter to bring home; even more so because the prices of food products are climbing on the daily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;My mom was saying that if we make it through this, then we'll turn out alright in the end. If the government can fix the problems of unemployment, and raise salaries overall, we wouldn't have these problems. But then I took a walk around the house, and was thinking 'How the hell are we supposed to do that? We're so fucked backwards in the ass that it's nearly impossible to fix this mess with everyone still getting what they want. Mostly, to fix this, there would have to be sacrifices in the area of oil and all major imports. But, no one would comply with that. Too many people get selfish over needing gas, but, can you blame them? They need that gas to get to work, where they will make a little bit of money, to bring home a little bit of bread and butter and get by." Then, I realized that we're all just dancing in circles. It seems almost pointless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Just yesterday, I was reading an article about how people have opportunities to become happy, but they don't seize them. One of the things the studies of the article found was that a person's happiness is greatly affected by their surrounding economy. America ranked the 16th happiest country in the world after studying patters of 52 countries from 1984 [82?] to 2008. I was surprised, I actually thought we'd be lower down the ladder. Maybe in a few years, we will be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;I find it difficult to understand how people can be happy after recognizing all events that affect their lives, and after acknowledging all of their responsibilities at this present time in life. Yes, it is easy to be happy. But, to do that right now, where we live, you'd basically have to force yourself to become ignorant of your surroundings so that you won't have to become aware of global issues that pertain to you directly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;That threat of there being a new war in Iran, it's going to kick the prices of barrels of oil through the ground [not the roof], and it's going to go so far as to end up on the other side of the world. They're estimated to reach $300 to $400 a barrel, if not more. This will make one gallon of gas more than $12, which will affect absolutely EVERYTHING. No one will commute to any place in some object that uses gas unless they are godly rich or totally desperate. Even vehicles of mass transport, like buses or trains, won't be used. Therefore, very few will get to work, very few will make money [and that will be very little money, keep in mind], the few that make a little money won't have enough to spend on essentials like food, so nothing will be bought in stores, so people who even show up to work in those stores will make little to no money and also have no money to spend, and so on and so forth, therefore completely crashing the whole economy into a rock solid wall. More circles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;You may be wondering why I'm even worrying about this, being the age I am and the state or place I'm in in life. Well, as of next year, I'm supposed to pack up and head off to college, where I'm supposed to spend $50 grand a year on tuition, and learn something over the course of anywhere between 4 years and a life time, so I can get a good job somewhere, buy a house, have a family, put food on the table, pay bills... all that jazz. Well, seeing as how fucked we currently are and how much more fucked we will be in the future, I'm probably not going to be able to accomplish anymore than 25% of what I just stated above. I don't know how my parents or I will pay for all of the college fees for that many years, and then afterwards, I really don't know how I'm going to get a job when no place can afford to hire people and pay them. Therefore, no house, no family for a long time, and in effect, not the whole shabang-feast either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Really, I know I live in the so-called Land of Opportunity, America the Great, Home of the Brave; but, honestly, look at us. As of right now, we pretty much suck. Yes, I know I should be appreciative to be living in a place like this, and don't get me wrong, I very much am, but I don't think I'm living in a place people make out to be the golden land. Shit is fucked up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;--V&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-3731375018818917480?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/3731375018818917480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=3731375018818917480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/3731375018818917480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/3731375018818917480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/07/economy.html' title='Economy'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-1880019264691472927</id><published>2008-05-17T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T18:53:30.879-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parallel Universes'/><title type='text'>Parallel Universes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;5.17.08&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Ok, so , I'm going to rant on a theory I have that is based on pretty much nothing except for Sci-Fi and out-there beliefs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;I was on WikiAnswers, and I saw someone ask the question of if there was time before the Big Bang. When I saw the question, my mind immediately said 'no', because time itself is purely a human concept. We created the so- called 'time' to keep things in order. There is no proof that time is an actual thing, so in fact, time does not exist anywhere except for in the mind of a human.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Anyway, [lol], I was reading the response to this person's question, and the responder mentioned something about the existence of parallel universes, and that the idea of them offers the possibility that 'not only time, but many other universes may exist very close to our own, but inaccessibly (at present) locked into dimensional warps.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Hmmm. Well.... I for one didn't even know that mainstream scientists were even investigating the possibility of parallel universes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Now, for the theory part. In my opinion, I think these parallel universes DO exist. I think this for a few reasons. One thing, how can someone say they don't exist? We have no way of knowing if they do or not, b/c we don't have advanced enough technology to step outside our own universe, and with it's constant rate of expansion being faster than our development of technology, we may never know. Secondly, this has been something that i have talked about with a close friend of mine;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;You know all those vivid oral stories that are passed down through handfuls of generations in a culture? The ones that talk about 3 headed monsters, or mermaids and fairies, or ones that talk about animals that can talk, or morphing beings? Or the rumors of dwarfs and elves, and Big Foot or the Lochness Monster? Who is to say that those stories aren;t real? They are birthed through the human imagination, yes, but, how they got there? That may be where the parallel universe steps in. In order for the human mind to think of something so splendid, the mind must be inflicted by some exterior happening. It's like with dreams. If you have a dream about a tiger, or a tiger is in your dream, some time throughout the previous day, you more than likely interacted with something that had to do with a tiger, whether it was something visual, audio, a thought, or touch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;In order for the people who came up with the fables, they had to have interacted with something that had to do with fairies or mermaids or minotaurs for those kinds of ideas to have been put in their mind in the first place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;If you want to argue that that is imagination, then step back for a second. Let's say 'God' put those ideas in your imagination. There are a few things I could say about that, but for now; Tell me, where is God? Not in space. Even though people call space 'the heavens', God is not up there sitting in a meditative state on some planet. Yet, people say he [or she] exists. So, what if he or she is in one of these parallel universes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;What about Deja Vu? Explain that. That could also be happening in a parallel universe. We could coincidentally be doing something in another universe that is an exact copy of our lives here in this universe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;So, where did those mythical creatures come from? Where did those fantastical ideas arise out of? It might sound stupid, but  I think that they may have come from those so-called parallel universes. ....Have any of you ever seen the movie The Last Mimzy? Think back to the part where they discover that Mimzy has technology more advanced than we could ever imagine. The same thing happens in The Transformers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;People theorize that aliens have technology that is much more advanced than our own, and that is how they come to earth, and that is how they interfere with military signals or whatever it is "they" 'do'.  How do you know if the 'things' in parallel universes don't have that same kind of advanced technology? How do we know if there isn't a parallel universe right next to us, filled with humans controlled by some Mega-monster dictator? Or if the parallel universe isn't filled with some conception of The Matrix, or of zombies?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;The answer is, we don't know. We can't know for a long time, and when that long time comes, who knows if we'll be advanced enough. Either way, it's still fun to wonder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;End opinion: I think parallel universes exist, and it's totally awesome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;----------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;7.10.08&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;So, I'm tweaked right now. I was just watching a documentary on the Science channel about parallel universes, and at the very end, one of the men being interviewed said that it seemed very possible to create a universe, which would create it's own space and splice itself from our universe without displacing anything in it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;This makes me think, what if we were created, just like how those scientists are working on creating a universe? I mean, we say that there are other life forms who have much more advanced technologies than us [i.e.- aliens, which I will discuss later], so, it's very possible that they have long since had the tech to make a universe. We're close enough, and they are all far ahead of us, so it's really probable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;That could be why we can't explain stuff, or why some say there's a God that created us. God, being, something to have been powerful enough to make us. That God could very well be some screwy scientist having fun in the lab making universes away, controlling what happens with laws of math and physics. Controlling how many particles and how much of a leakage of gravity would see into those multiple universes, or the multiverse itself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Moving on to the aliens, and parallel universes. Since I now know that the idea of parallel universes is widely accepted, and pretty provable, I'm going to feel free to say that this gives more reason to believe in life forms other than those which exist on this planet. I'm going to side track for a minute; one of [if not The One] the accepted theories on the creation of this universe is the Big Bang Theory. There are many theories on how the Big Bang happened, but the one I'm going to talk about is the theory that two universes collided. I think I mentioned this back in May, but the thought of two universes colliding is something I've long thought about before I ever watched this freakin' document, or even heard of the idea from somewhere else. [This actually makes me pretty mad. It took physicists 10 years to figure that out. I did in like.. 5 minutes. Yet, I still suck at the SAT and other stupid shit. How unfair. =(. There is also something else I read that also pisses me off, because it's something I thought about way before I read the article. haha.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Basically, we only know.. err... theorize that two universes may have collided to create a third. We don't know anything about other plausible universes or what is inside of them, we only know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;some&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt; of what is in our own, so we shouldn't bet on finding out about others any time soon. Saying this, we don't know for sure if there is some other life form in another universe, or what anything in that universe is like. It could be the same as ours, or completely opposite, or it could have it's own set of laws of physics that defy every law we know that is somehow correlated with forces we recognize such as gravity and matter. I wouldn't be surprised if aliens existed in a universe other than our own. It would explain why we rarely, but do, encounter them. I'd imagine it'd at least take them a few hours to get to Earth, even with advanced technology. Them being from some place else probably also explains why we don't recognize the 'technologies' of their 'UFO's'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;[I feel really silly for writing that^. haha.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Onto the other thing that made me mad. I read an interview that Discover magazine had with cosmologist, Max Tegmark. He apparently submitted a theory about there being multiple parallel universes, each one with a bunch of different you's. Correct me if I'm wrong, but, isn't that the same thing as what I wrote in May?? ......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;This guy has a PhD, went to Berkeley to get it, and was enrolled in two colleges in Sweden before coming to the US. I'm a 17 year old girl stuck in Old-People, Florida, and I don't even have a high school diploma yet. What does that say about having your PhD and being some famous scientist as opposed to being just some small town girl? There's no difference!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;End conclusion: I guess this wasn't just a rant based on Sci-Fi and out-there theories, scientists actually consider this. lol. Kooll.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;--V&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-1880019264691472927?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/1880019264691472927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=1880019264691472927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/1880019264691472927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/1880019264691472927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/05/parallel-universes.html' title='Parallel Universes'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-2251368448264762124</id><published>2008-04-06T17:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T13:43:12.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing in Particular.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"&gt;It's been pretty stormy weather for the past couple of days, but I'm happy to say that it does not reflect my mood. On one of the rare instances, I actually have felt pretty good for the past few days. More than likely, it's thanks to the week long spring break, and of course, all of the people I had been around for this week. I've had a warm and fuzzy feeling for a great part of the week thanks to someone, which has kept my chin up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"&gt;Of course, I'm still thinking about life. ...When am I not? I can't help but wonder why I do though, because I've always been one to say 'go with it', or 'don't question it or fight it; what happens, happens', so I wonder, why do I question life, and why do I question questioning life? haha. Who knows.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"&gt;[[Incomplete]]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"&gt;--V&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-2251368448264762124?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/2251368448264762124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=2251368448264762124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/2251368448264762124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/2251368448264762124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/04/nothing-in-particular.html' title='Nothing in Particular.'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-7028282712606329086</id><published>2008-04-01T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T21:45:30.846-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='superficial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='george bernard shaw'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good people'/><title type='text'>A Long Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;"Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;-George Bernard Shaw&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I was reading something a friend of mine wrote today on her ever-infamous Myspace. A few things she said really... intrigued me. I'll sort of restate some of what she said in what I say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    It really is hard to talk about yourself when you're just 16, and still have no idea who you are and what you're made of. It's somewhat difficult when life has just begun for you, and when you still have so many experiences to go through &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;even if you have been through a lot.&lt;/span&gt; I think some people forget that sometimes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    I think, even if we know it somewhere deep inside that &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;there are bigger things in life&lt;/span&gt;, people still get too caught up in the business of materialistic and superficial things. Right now, for instance, I am on my laptop, ranting about...life, on the internet, that probably no one will read. haha. That's aside from my point though. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    Another thing she had written was about how it was hard to just find good people now-a-days. "Someone who will just listen and not judge, someone who will just take you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;as you are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    I thought about this for a couple of minutes... she really is right, in my opinion. But, I think it goes a little deeper than just someone who will listen and not judge. I'm usually one to give people the benefit of the doubt, so I'm going to go ahead and say that I could pull any bum off of a bench in a park in NYC and get him to listen to my problems for an hour, and I can find a few people who won't judge me, too. But when you think about what genuinely makes someone a good person, an &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;actual&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;, good person, there's a lot more to it than just that. I'm not talking about perfection, or some all-out animal rights activist or anything in that sense...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    I can't think of many people who I know who aren't selfish or way too caught up in other people's business. I don't know many people who are really honest and loyal, who stay true to themselves and others, or someone who is courageous no matter what, who will stick up for what they believe in no matter what anybody says. I don't know many people who do their best to help others with 5 minutes of their day, or someone who still fully believes in chivalry and kindness even around strangers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    What I do see though,&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt; everyday&lt;/span&gt;, are people who forget the basics of common courtesy and respect. I know too many people who care too much about what others think, and who care so much about the dramatics of someone else's life. They can't see that all of that is so incredibly minuscule and insignificant to everything else that is still going to happen in that person's life. Honestly, I have to say that it really annoys the shit out of me that people have their heads shoved so far up some peoples asses that I'm not sure they can ever get their head's out. I hate that I'm surrounded by closed-minded teenagers who care about nothing but the melodramatic no-matter happenings of everyday life that aren't going to mean anything in 5 or 6 years. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    It's &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;so stupid&lt;/span&gt; to hear so often "Oh my god, I hate Jane Smith. Rebecca said she saw her at Megan's party last weekend smoking weed, and then Alyson told me that she saw her making out Ryan Dawson in Greg's truck. I can't believe it. That means Ryan is cheating on Ashley, and I hate that I have to be the one to tell her after this class. She's going to be heartbroken!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Seriously? &lt;/span&gt;Get the fuck over yourself. Who is Ryan? Are him and Ashley going to get married? Will you be living with Jane in 5 years? Are any of these people going to be a part of your life after high school unless you make some great effort to make them still be a part of your life? Which, by the way, if you do do that, it may mean that you have no life because you are obsessing with the idea of keeping old friends who did stupid things in the past that degraded your level of intelligence and limited your ability to grow as a person, who have most likely moved on themselves? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    I guess what I'm trying to say is that I also can't stand to know that some people cling to their pasts, and can't let go of things even though it probably is due time that they did. They keep themselves from growing as people, and they limit themselves to small-town lifestyles. Maybe some people are content with that, which is perfectly fine. But, if you're one of the people that I know who are always talking about how they are going to get out of this small town and go start somewhere new, and then never get out and do anything about it, &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;what does that make you??&lt;/span&gt; Pitiful? Incapable? Undetermined? What?? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    I find it hard to understand that humans would do such a thing to begin with since we are naturally curious creatures. I can't grip how people talk about growing and moving on, but then never do either. They stay myopic, they never change, and life never expands for them. They drive by the same shops and homes, same street signs and corners all of their lives, and it just makes me think... don't you ever get sick of it? Do you never want to explore and meet new kinds of people, who have different perspectives than you, who can open your eyes to worlds you never thought possible?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    That makes me think of something else.... do people never want to be exposed to the different kinds of real magic other people can show them? I'm not talking about card tricks or anything, I'm talking about things like... love, or understanding, learning, or new experiences. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;    To make sense of all of this, I guess I should say that.... by all of this, I'm meaning to say that... in order to find good people, you have to be around well-rounded people, but, how can you do that if you are surrounded by people who refuse to become well-rounded, and who refuse to face the music or learn the lessons of life? How can there be good people if there are only people who &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;obsess&lt;/span&gt; with the materialistic and insignificant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now... I'm going to continue thinking without writing about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Vesper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-7028282712606329086?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/7028282712606329086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=7028282712606329086' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/7028282712606329086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/7028282712606329086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/04/life-isnt-about-finding-yourself.html' title='A Long Post'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-9133297943601074163</id><published>2008-03-29T21:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T22:26:48.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;So.... I have a blog that any teenager could relate to for once. It is mostly just going to consist of useless information, but, who cares. This is a blog, which, I'm pretty sure, almost no one reads but me. haha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;Last night, I had a chorus concert that went really well. I was apparently viewed as a 'star' from the audiences perspective because I was involved in so many of the performances. I did a trio with two friends of mine to the song "No One" by Alicia Keys, and the entire audience got into it at the end with all of the 'oh's'. haha. I had a lot of fun, but I was definitely nervous. Like always.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;And today, one of the boys in chorus told me that he has loved me since the 6th grade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;.........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;That... was a new experience. I'm not so sure I've enjoyed this new experience, because I have no idea what I'm going to do or say. And since this boy and I aren't really close, I'm pretty sure he has no idea what he is talking about. He knows nothing about me, and I know nothing about him, so I'm thinking that he is in lust, not love. Also, I definitely do not love him and I am not in love with him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;I don't get how people can just throw around the word love so easily. Not the "Omg, I love youu!!!" but to actually say I love you or I'm in love with you or something. It makes me want to slap someone and call them an ignorant ignoramus. I have to say, I actually have come to find that I find it very unattractive for someone to say it so.... nonchalantly. To say it really bitterly, it's almost sickening. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;Um.... yeah. That's all for now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;--V&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-9133297943601074163?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/9133297943601074163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=9133297943601074163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/9133297943601074163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/9133297943601074163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/03/for-today.html' title='For Today'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-5688656392415368115</id><published>2008-03-29T21:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T21:35:49.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March 9th 2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Here's some thoughts from a few weeks ago that I had saved to an e-mail draft instead of posting as a blog. lol. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;So... all day today, I've been putting in some hard thought to my future, and what I want to do. As I already know, I want to major in astrophysics, so I've been doing research on that and reading on it for a big chunk of the day. I have to say, I'm pretty freakin' intimidated by it, but, regardless, I still want to study it. Everything I've read so far keeps saying that there is a lot of math involved with this major, and so, that worries me. I don;t want to be one of those people who drop out of their majors because it's too hard or they don't understand. Because I know that the math will be difficult and challenging, I've been thinking a few things. One, I should go back and relearn ALL of my basic math skills, and work through them until I really understand, because not only will that help me with the remainder of high school, but later on with college and with life. The other thing I was thinking was about if [hopefully and mostly, yes] I major in this field, and if I have trouble with the math, I can always contact people I know who have experience with some of the stuff and whatnot. So far, I have thought of a few people; Shishir Kaka, Mike DiChiaro, Mrs. Bertram, and of course, Ronak, and also, Binal. Two of the five work for NASA, one is an excellent math teacher, one is taking a physics course, and the other, well, he is just damn smart and picks up anything in five seconds because he loves math. haha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;As I was reading various articles on astrophysics, I was reading the advice that current students of the major were giving. They said that one of the key things you needed to succeed in this major was a love of astronomy. You had to love and be able to just sit there looking at the sky for hours even if you didn't see anything. This, I have. I am fascinated by all of the theories that surround space, by the theories of dimensions, by stars, galaxies and black holes. I absolutely love looking at ANY picture of space, I love staring at the stars, I love wondering how it all started, what it is made of, where it came from. I do believe that this sole passion is enough to get me through the hard times, and because of that, I don't want to flake out. I don't want to run away in fear of things that seem intimidating, I want to follow through and work through it all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Do you think I can do it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;-V&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-5688656392415368115?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/5688656392415368115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=5688656392415368115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/5688656392415368115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/5688656392415368115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/03/march-9th-2008.html' title='March 9th 2008'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-4500254372979666240</id><published>2008-03-22T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T21:22:56.588-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fucking whatever'/><title type='text'>You don't think I am serious.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;So, I love how my parents don't think I'm serious about California. They don't seem to understand that I do not possess even the smallest, most thin strand of sarcasm in my words when I say that that is where I am going to go for college. I don't care if they don't give me any money, I will take out student loans and save what I can for other expenses. I will get a damn job if I have to and I will study my fucking ass off. I do not care if it sounds impossible, I will do it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;The other funny thing is that my mom keeps saying "we [speaking for the three of us; herself, my dad, and I] don't want to send you that far or have you study that far away from home." When she said that earlier today, I pointed out that she was saying that because they want to be able to visit me and she said yes. Then I said that going to college was not about visiting and pow-wowing with my freaking family, it was about getting a good education and a setting up a solid career. I was like "I understand that it is important and relevant to see your family every once in a while, but that is not the point of college. You guys need to learn to let go of your children when you need to. I can live with seeing you guys just 4 or 5 times a year." And thens he was talking about how it would be easier to see me if I went to school in Boston or PA or something, and I said no, because it would ony be a matter of a few hours more to come see me in California. And then we got onto the point of finances for college. She pointed out that in the end, money didn't matter whether I went to school on the northern east coast or wet coast, because they ended up equaling each other. The tuition is more in PA or Boston, and tickets are cheaper, whereas the tuition is less in CA but the tickets are more, and I said that that didn't matter, because if I went to school in CA and got the job I wanted under NASA, then all of that money would come back to her and my dad in the end. She also said that them not wanting me to go to CA had nothing to do with money, and I said that she was wrong because my dad still uses that as a reason. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;I don't understand why they cannot let me live and lead my own life when they have already lived and lead theirs. I told my dad the other day that he cannot be the puppaterr of my life afer high school, and that he could just try to control it and me, and he goes "I will. Haha. Watch me, I will." And I just sat there and looked at him and gave a sardonic laugh. I can't understand why they can't grasp that this is not about what THEY want, it's about ME, and MY LIFE. If that sounds selfish, then I honestly don't fucking care, and if they think that this is about what they want, then that is TOO FUCKING BAD. They really think that I won't up-and-out if they try to tell me that I will not school in California if I get accepted. I swear to every god of every religion, the only thing holding me back is the factor of money. I don't have money, therefore, I am unable to just leave. I don't need my phone, and I only a car to get me to some other car. I know how to hot wire most common cars like Toyotas, Hondas, and Dodges. That has more to do with running away than just leaving though. If I had some cash though, then I would just walk out of the front door and not look back for years. I can live without talking to my fucking asshole family for a while. Trust me, it wouldn't be all too hard. Yes, I am aware that that sounds excessively bitter and naive, but after a number of years of being ignored, not taken seriously, over-protected, controlled, and of having nobody care about what the hell &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt; want, it is seriously NOT hard to not want to talk to your family for a really long time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;I was just thinking the other day; if my parents really don't give me money for tuition for going to school in CA, then that will make me want to work even harder and succeed. And when I do succeed greatly, and when I do own nice cars and a nice house with a good family and whatnot, I will call my father and tell him "Well, gee, look where I am now. And I got here without your help. I did this all on my own from the day I left to now. And you used to tell me that I would never get past anything but a fucking Community College." Well, fuck you, is basically how I feel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Lately, I have been wishing and thinking that right now would be a prime time to be able to go back to being 5 years old, when I could just scream "I HATE YOU" and turn away without looking back for the rest of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not done with this post, but I'm getting sleepy, so, this is all for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Whatever...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;--V.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-4500254372979666240?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/4500254372979666240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=4500254372979666240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/4500254372979666240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/4500254372979666240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/03/you-dont-think-i-am-serious.html' title='You don&apos;t think I am serious.'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-3918388885659009564</id><published>2008-02-18T18:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T23:41:47.675-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='choices'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motivation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='goal'/><title type='text'>Rant</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;I feel a little bit better than I did in my last post. That doesn't mean that life has gotten any better, I've just taken a new outlook on things and how I should do them if I really am going to get out of here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;The thing that disappoints me though, is that I still don't feel motivated enough. I still feel like I need some big, fat push.... someone to give me one last shove into it and say 'do it or leave it, it's your life.' The odd thing is that this feeling of not caring has only been recent, maybe reaching into the past couple of months. Before, I never used to be so unmotivated. If I said I was going to do something, I did it, no matter what it was. I don;t know if overall this is a good or bad thing, but for this particular situation, it's bad, because I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; want to get out of here. Because of that, I keep saying to myself 'PROVE IT', and yet still, I'm not proving anything. It makes me think that something inside of me doesn't want it as bad as I thought.... but how can that be true if all of this moves me to tears? If I can feel it in my heart, then I do want it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;My personal declaration: I'm doing it for me, I'm doing it for love. That in itself should keep me going for a very long time. And I won't take no for an answer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;I've recently realized that I need to come up with a back-up plan in case things don't go the way I wanted them to with UC Berkeley or UCLA. But what? I need to come up with such a solid reason. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;..Hmm...... off to thinking. I'll write again either when I'm pissed, bored, or really happy. Till then, peace easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--V&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-3918388885659009564?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/3918388885659009564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=3918388885659009564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/3918388885659009564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/3918388885659009564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-feel-little-bit-better-than-i-did-in.html' title='Rant'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-3882040257220257697</id><published>2008-02-07T17:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T18:00:57.198-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Get Me Out of Here.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;I'm so tired of everyone always telling me I can't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;I' so sick of hearing that I can't handle it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;You all always tell me the way my life should be run,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;yet here i am trying to make my own choices, for me, for my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;i want to, need to, get out of here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;please, someone, take me away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;please, someone, don't make me stay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;if there is anything i can't handle anymore, it is all of you who constantly put me down, who push me and pull me, make me drown. these five million tears that have run down my cheeks, past my nose and onto my lips, that salt i taste is because of you. the pain i feel is because of you. after one more year, i won;t put up with any of you lying hypocrites, and when i've got it good, i'll make sure you hear of it. you'll see that i' better, than you and your lies. you'll see that i'm smarter than you had perceived.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;i try so hard to just forget about it, just put it behind me, but so many times, i am betrayed and these things follow me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;can no one see that i'm screaming inside?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;i'm so done with listening to all of you who call me weak. i am not weak. i am not weak. you keep telling me i need to be stronger, how much stronger do you want me to be??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;yu all expect me to carry the weight of all of the people that surround me. you expect me to hold the world on my shoulders like i'm superman, and when i try, it isn;t good enough. i'm never good enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;holding those bodies on top of my skin makes me split into twenty different pieces. what do you all want from me? what do you all want for me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;you push me to let out my feelings, yet you won;t allow me to spill out my problems to my friends, and you expect me to keep sane, when all that has happened in this past year of my life has consisted of nothing but straight up pain. how can you want me to stay happy, smiling, when all that surrounds me has been agony from the start?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;i'm doing this for me, not for you, so don;t feel flattered and think you made a difference. when i'm at the top with the rest of the big dogs, you'll be the ones looking up, i'll make sure you applaud. i'll be looking down on you, but i won;t say a word, because unlike you, i'm not selfishly unnerved. i'll smile at you simply and say 'look where i am now.' i'll see where you're standing, i'll see you frown.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;'you need to get focused.' 'you're so stupid.' 'get on top of your work' 'forget your friends, you need to detach yourself from them.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;fuck you all. i won;t let you have it your way. fuck you for trying to control me. i hate each one of you that pulls me down. i won;t hear i'm not strong, go tell it to someone who's weak enough to let it sink in. once i'm done with this, i'll be so far away. try and stop me, i'll pick up and run. don;t say i didn't warn you, i've told you time and time again. you tell me i can't, i know i can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--V&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-3882040257220257697?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/3882040257220257697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=3882040257220257697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/3882040257220257697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/3882040257220257697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/02/get-me-out-of-here.html' title='Get Me Out of Here.'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-8557484208593163563</id><published>2008-01-25T17:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T23:41:11.819-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='choices'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Choices.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;The time for me to move on to college is nearing. In about one year, I'll start packing up for a university.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;This is one thing that I will not let my family run my life on. I want more than anything to scream that it's my life, and that they can't choose how it will be run for me. Especially not here. College is what will set me up for the rest of my life, and I'm not going to let my family get in the way because they are over controlling and want everything to go their way. I already feel the fires coming on, and my psychotic uncle is already being an asshole.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I'll start at the top. Since about a year and a half ago, I've had my sights set on the University of California at Berkeley, because I aspire to major in astrophysics and also have a liking for neurological surgery and general neurology. I live on the other side of the country, and as I previously told you, I am very sick. My uncle says my dad will not let me go there so I should just forget about it and that I'm wasting my time, and my dad has also poked on the lines of not letting me go that far, but his [my dad's] reasons are that the family that is over there will be too busy to take care of me if I get really sick or something. My unlces reasons are because of the boy that is over there that I have also already mentioned. He acts like an asshole about it. He keeps asking me why I want to go all the way to Berkeley, and I always have said that it is because that is how my career will be well set, and Berkeley is a place that I want to go to. It has the actual major of astrophysics and the study of neurology as well. It's a science school that I can get in to, is not out of my reach, and that will allow me to work at NASA one day. And he asks what the real reasons are for me wanting to go. My uncle, being the asshole that he is, believes that I'm going there solely because of a friend that I have. This friend, obviously, is Ronak. Since this is a blog, and I don't think or care if anyone, including my uncle, reads this, I'm going to say, yes, he is one of the biggest reasons I further want to go to UC Berkeley. Even still, it is not the primary reason. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Before he and I had ever started talking, I had my heart set on Berkeley because I have a passion for astronomy and physics. They both absolutely fascinate and captivate me to the fullest extent and for me to study the two for the rest of my life makes my heart skip a beat. I've wanted to go to Berkeley for almost two years now [a bit over a year and a half], whereas Ronak and I had begun talking half way through last year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I will not let my family control this, because I have to do what I have to do to get where I want to be the right way. I will not let them prevent me from going where I want to go, and I will not my my freaking uncle decide for me. If he chooses to be upset with me once I have made my decision, so be it. That's too bad and I will be just fine not speaking to him for whatever time period it may extend over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;And just for the record, I regret ever telling my uncle that Ronak was my friend. I should have known better and known that he would be a total asshole about it, and that that wouldn't change. He acts like a jerk and thinks that I will follow in the footsteps of making the mistakes my other family members made. He should know me better, but I guess he doesn't. He believes that I don't know how to handle myself or my life, and that I have no idea as to what I am doing, and he greatly underestimates me. If he is appalled the day I disprove him, too bad. Get over yourself because I'm moving forward &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;the way &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt; want to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;--Vesper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-8557484208593163563?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/8557484208593163563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=8557484208593163563' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/8557484208593163563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/8557484208593163563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2008/01/choices.html' title='Choices.'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-7097866153218488967</id><published>2007-12-20T22:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T17:40:52.226-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowflakes Are Less Than Three.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;    Life has gotten slightly better since my last post. Mostly because today was the last day of school before winter break. Me being back to the reallyy bright orange is making a statement, hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   I have a few things to be happy about, to be honest. I'll start with the most recent I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I Am Legend&lt;br /&gt;       Not the best thing to be happy about, but it was an amazing movie. As one of my friends put it, it was scary, sad, and humorous all at the same time. I have to say, I found it to be very, very creepy, but maybe because that's just me. haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gotta jet, but I'll post as soon as possible. Let's see how life rolls out from here.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-7097866153218488967?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/7097866153218488967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=7097866153218488967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/7097866153218488967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/7097866153218488967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2007/12/snowflakes-are-less-than-three.html' title='Snowflakes Are Less Than Three.'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-3767086797184486529</id><published>2007-12-11T12:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T21:12:10.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So Sick of it All.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Life lately has not been good. At all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best friend is on the brink of suicide, my grades are falling out completely, my illness, which anyone who reads this blog knows nothing of, is getting worse, I'm not sure if the boy I love loves me back, my father is becoming an overbearing asshole, my choral director has turned into a complete bitch, the accompanist for the chorus has been sexually inappropriate towards me, and I'm ready to pound in every single underclassmen that goes to my school, and the list just goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part about it is that I have no one to talk to about how I feel. Initially, that is why I made this blog. And it still is the main reason that I have it. I can dish out on here without having to worry about anything. I guess I just want someone to listen, or to just get it &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; out somewhere, anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder to myself sometimes, what would my friends do if they lived my life? Would they have already killed themselves? Why haven't I done that yet, I wonder sometimes. It's funny. I've never once 'cut' myself or drank or done drugs to 'make my problems go away', and the problems I have in my life personally are pretty damn messed up. Yet, my friends, who have your everyday problems, feel the need to get drunk, cut and hurt themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be strong. I don't want to fortify myself against everything. I can't cry anymore, but that is all I want to do sometimes, but I just can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Agh, I don't have time to finish this. I have way too much work to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later,&lt;br /&gt;Vesper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-3767086797184486529?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/3767086797184486529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=3767086797184486529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/3767086797184486529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/3767086797184486529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2007/12/so-sick-of-it-all.html' title='So Sick of it All.'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-1679579301344845426</id><published>2007-11-11T11:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T15:06:13.079-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Being Creepy Much?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;    I wrote this a couple of weeks ago while watching a Nostradamus documentary on the History channel. It's kind of creepy, and I'm not done with it, but I don't when I'll finish it, if I finish it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;---And for all of you Indians out there, Happy Bhai Beech, Saal Mubarak, and Happy Diwali!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Nostradamus:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;How does he do it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;we are in the middle of a change of the ages. the beginning of a new era and peoples. this new age, is composed of nothing but bitter hatred and war. the cries of children and women rape the face of every continent. the voices of bullets piercing the hearts of men&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt; can be heard around the corner in almost any major city, anywhere in the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;it is unfair that our fates shall meet us so soon. that we shall all burn in the midst of a hellish chaos? when will it come? who will be struck first?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;the number of extremists rising is unmatched. the future war that is coming on is luminous with black candles and flames. slashed swords strike every body, every body an evil snake. he who strikes, bears a face no different. we are all the victims of martyrs alike, we will all burn under the tree of life. fearing the one symbol, unheard of, we cringe at the very image, shivers down our spines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Told you it was creepy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I'm out. Got LOTSS of work to do. I don;t think I'll finish it all either. I need a savior today. BLahhhhHHHHHH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-1679579301344845426?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/1679579301344845426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=1679579301344845426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/1679579301344845426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/1679579301344845426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2007/11/being-creepy-much.html' title='Being Creepy Much?'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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-2556069578745329184.post-5359514101585825466</id><published>2007-11-10T12:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T13:00:11.062-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:130%;" &gt;हेल्लो&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;hello.&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^Hello.&lt;br /&gt;So, this is my first blog. Duh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure what exactly I'll write in here, but it will most likely be stuff that I either would like to rant about, or stuff that is semi to very important to me, or what is around me. [Haha, that sounds conceited... sorry. =/]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My guess, for now, is that I'm going to remain anonymous on here, so that I can be free with what I write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No worries, I'm not going to leash out with death threats and racism. Haha.. wow..... that would be badd. I'm thinking it will be more along the lines of me giving you my life story without you knowing who I actually am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, time to run with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Peace easy~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/hello.&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556069578745329184-5359514101585825466?l=vesperslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/feeds/5359514101585825466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556069578745329184&amp;postID=5359514101585825466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/5359514101585825466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556069578745329184/posts/default/5359514101585825466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vesperslife.blogspot.com/2007/11/hi.html' title='Hi.'/><author><name>Vesper</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13822988924028312978</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></feed>
