<?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-3373803040449878708</id><updated>2012-02-16T01:02:17.806-08:00</updated><category term='Loves'/><category term='Reflections'/><title type='text'>The Lost Arts</title><subtitle type='html'>A place where I can rest a few odds and ends of the deluge of thoughts that wash over me every passing second.  Diary, lifelog, and soapbox...I hope i can strike to the web all my thoughts that would otherwise be lost to time.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Ghost Of Christmas Past</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13917341622305941148</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAL7zMmlBKI/AAAAAAAAAQc/UZQEvMnpFRE/S220/DSC00528a.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3373803040449878708.post-2926400521405497887</id><published>2010-05-30T17:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T18:04:46.619-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reflections'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;"We'll soon find out, wont we"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;I hope to God that supplement manufacturers &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat;"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; utter those words. As in I hope that generally they know what &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat;"&gt;thier&lt;/span&gt; doing when they release things for people to try. It confounds me how a company could cross reference or test a product against every other substance a people could possibly ingest to know that &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat;"&gt;thier&lt;/span&gt; supplement is safe given the myriad of combinations &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat;"&gt;thier&lt;/span&gt; supplement could be taken with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAMAG5yT23I/AAAAAAAAARM/v_yGKZ9OfN0/s1600/cellucor-m5-front-b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477221690403707762" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAMAG5yT23I/AAAAAAAAARM/v_yGKZ9OfN0/s200/cellucor-m5-front-b.jpg" style="cursor: hand; height: 200px; width: 200px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAMAHI1p78I/AAAAAAAAARU/dYei4EJB0xE/s1600/l_bj-1018.bmp"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477221694444269506" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAMAHI1p78I/AAAAAAAAARU/dYei4EJB0xE/s200/l_bj-1018.bmp" style="cursor: hand; height: 200px; width: 90px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Much to my dismay I'm not a chemist. I don't posses the natural mathematical talent to fathom it. But lets say I consume M5 by &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;Cellucor&lt;/span&gt; before my workout as a &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;preworkout&lt;/span&gt; enhancer. And then later in the day I consume Chlorophyll by Bernard Jensen as a holistic cleanser and blood purifier, and system &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;alkalizer&lt;/span&gt;. Both manipulate and effect the blood. One adds acids and one neutralizes. The way I see it the properties of the Chlorophyll could only help since muscle tissue repair is hindered by free radicals. And all the acids that go into inducing muscle building and scaled back at the end of the day to keep a nice &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word"&gt;antinflamitory&lt;/span&gt; state.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But being that I'm not all knowing, I cant be certain. But I can have faith in educated assertions. So what to do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, we'll soon find out wont we. ;D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A thinker sees his own actions as experiments and questions as attempts to find out something. Success and failure are for him answers above all."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friedrich Nietzsche &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3373803040449878708-2926400521405497887?l=thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/2926400521405497887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/2926400521405497887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/2010/05/well-soon-find-out-wont-we-i-hope-to.html' title=''/><author><name>The Ghost Of Christmas Past</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13917341622305941148</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAL7zMmlBKI/AAAAAAAAAQc/UZQEvMnpFRE/S220/DSC00528a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAMAG5yT23I/AAAAAAAAARM/v_yGKZ9OfN0/s72-c/cellucor-m5-front-b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3373803040449878708.post-4401964817014888024</id><published>2010-03-10T21:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T03:16:41.377-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/S5iVU8_Xk0I/AAAAAAAAAQU/LMjV5RJ0Now/s1600-h/dreams_default.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447267936506450754" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/S5iVU8_Xk0I/AAAAAAAAAQU/LMjV5RJ0Now/s400/dreams_default.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;"Hell is not somewhere you go if your not a Christian, it's the failure of your life's greatest ambition." - Immortal Technique&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams are too important to be subject of life's inevitable slide to realism. Not everyone will achieve &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; dreams in grand fashion. Not &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;every one's&lt;/span&gt; story will read like Gabby &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Sidibe's&lt;/span&gt; on a amazing alignment of circumstance. Not &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;everyone&lt;/span&gt; will find a golden ticket, or be afforded an easy path to achieve &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;happiness&lt;/span&gt;. Not everyone will anointed with the providence of luck. However dreams, no matter how difficult or &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;impeded&lt;/span&gt; should never be let go of. They should never wither through the ageing of time. For dreams are the lifeblood of purpose. Some know not &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; dreams until it is far too late, some never the moment to realize them. That is why if you have a will, if you have a spark, if you have a foundation to begin the lay the blocks of your dreams you must start laying. Lay not requirement, ultimatum, or foreshadowing in front of or &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;behind&lt;/span&gt; them. Lay no excuse. They must exist only as what they are and not have &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;susceptibilities&lt;/span&gt;. Dreams &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; lay upon contingency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They like children are pure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's is easy to become jaded by life. Positivity and altruism are traded for realism and an accepted dejection, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;pessimism&lt;/span&gt;. Even the tiniest doubts will &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;accidentally&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;slowly&lt;/span&gt; poison our zest, until it renders us &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;faraway&lt;/span&gt;. But our happiness and dreams must like children not be let go of. Clutch to them &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;foolhardily&lt;/span&gt;. For only a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;perceived&lt;/span&gt; fool knows the love to not care of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;obstacles&lt;/span&gt;. Its is our realism that keeps old and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;purposeful&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;obstacles&lt;/span&gt; in place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if you move and inch everyday you still trek towards purpose. The inchworm will never find a new continent, however the inchworm knows it's purpose and even it's smallest journey "is". It becomes its path. In the words of a great teacher, to travel down the path you must become the path. Meaning we may never arrive at the footsteps of our greatest dreams specific i&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nvisionment&lt;/span&gt;, but while we &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;pursued&lt;/span&gt; it, we become the dream. And so what if we cannot have them handed to us, if we never move because of the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;impossibility&lt;/span&gt; of it, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;therein&lt;/span&gt; will lie the only failure. And sometimes when we keep moving our feet towards our great impossibles, we put &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;ourselves&lt;/span&gt; in the position to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;receive&lt;/span&gt; those bits of luck, providence, and circumstance that bless those that move and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;actualize&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Alex, you say, you live with your head in the clouds. Life &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; work that way. And you know what? Your right. If you &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; that. And that belief is a choice. Choose dreams, choose happiness even if it &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_29" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; seem to fit, or make sense. And give it time. Once those &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_30" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;neuropathways&lt;/span&gt; open up to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_31" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;possibility&lt;/span&gt; of that which we &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_32" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know, life and reality unfurls differently. And all of a sudden happiness and hope are no longer tangible, they become stronger in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_33" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; permanent &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_34" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;intangibility&lt;/span&gt;, as our souls and love are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold your dreams close and impervious. And do what you can. A true dream cannot be cracked by the hard nature of life. Do these things, shift your understandings, move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am welcoming myself back to the thinkers abbey, to which i have vacated for what seems too long. My mind, is my home away from home. If i could manifest it i can tell you what it looks like. And i will. But for now I am just thrilled to be back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3373803040449878708-4401964817014888024?l=thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/feeds/4401964817014888024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3373803040449878708&amp;postID=4401964817014888024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/4401964817014888024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/4401964817014888024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/2010/03/hell-is-not-somewhere-you-go-if-your.html' title=''/><author><name>The Ghost Of Christmas Past</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13917341622305941148</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAL7zMmlBKI/AAAAAAAAAQc/UZQEvMnpFRE/S220/DSC00528a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/S5iVU8_Xk0I/AAAAAAAAAQU/LMjV5RJ0Now/s72-c/dreams_default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3373803040449878708.post-5490382341788960999</id><published>2008-09-02T01:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T02:03:58.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best Speech Ever Given</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZ0gxF869NE"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241340064207653634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SLz7BMIeywI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Q64cDjTbEp0/s400/55598f30-15ba-4140-8373-8556c6f3ec85.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Despite how complex our ideas, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;perspectives&lt;/span&gt;, and passions may be, one thing I know to be certain. That &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;conviction&lt;/span&gt;, when genuine, stands alone and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;indestructible&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I for some time now after much research and deliberation have been tired and trod upon by where our country is going, and how we are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;slowly&lt;/span&gt; poisoning ourselves, and our perceptions. I have become tired of what my research has shown me. That our country has been hijacked, not by terrorists, but by interests that will bleed and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ultimately&lt;/span&gt; destroy this country if to control and profit only but for a moment to satisfy the most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;wretched&lt;/span&gt; of urges. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My jaded perceptions were calmed, if only but for a moment, when i heard this man speak. Most of anyone will say that my calm is an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;absurd&lt;/span&gt; emotion and that i am just another fish hooked by great sounding promises. And if you believe that you very well might be right. However, if just for a moment, I could be blissfully ignorant, I found solace in this man's words. This man had the audacity to speak ideals, these ideals that the grownups try and rob us of when we turn the corner of maturity.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;On August 28&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; 2008, on a cool night in the state where I was born, this man spoke to a nation. In his speech, thankfully, I had the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;audacity&lt;/span&gt; to hope.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3373803040449878708-5490382341788960999?l=thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/feeds/5490382341788960999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3373803040449878708&amp;postID=5490382341788960999' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/5490382341788960999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/5490382341788960999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/2008/09/best-speech-ever-given.html' title='The Best Speech Ever Given'/><author><name>The Ghost Of Christmas Past</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13917341622305941148</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAL7zMmlBKI/AAAAAAAAAQc/UZQEvMnpFRE/S220/DSC00528a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SLz7BMIeywI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Q64cDjTbEp0/s72-c/55598f30-15ba-4140-8373-8556c6f3ec85.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3373803040449878708.post-7510549134839361647</id><published>2008-08-13T22:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T23:26:36.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun with Astrology!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I was having a quick laugh to myself whilst perusing the an astrology article by MSN. The article's name was "What drives you nuts?" And i read mine which is of course Sagittarius, and was only half satisfied with the answer. Basically I feel I only have 3 things that upset me and those are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Callousness&lt;br /&gt;2. Apathy&lt;br /&gt;3. Bravado&lt;br /&gt;4. Shit talking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so there is a fourth. I wont try and expound upon these cause I may find more and I'm trying to keep my hindrances low. I actually don't even like identifying what it is i like and dislike because it makes me less pliable. And plus i cant stand people who prattle on and on about their peeves. However being dissatisfied with my sign's dislikes i decided to search the other signs dislikes and found a few that we a little more close to home as far as things in don't like. Ok, sick of seeing (dis) in every other word. Without further ado, here they are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Libra:Contrary to popular opinion, your specialty, Libra, is not "balance" itself, it's restoring balance to unbalanced situations. So what you can't stand, more than anything else, is seeing lopsided, prejudiced, unfair, or discriminatory conditions. It brings out the cruise director, mediator, and judge in you. In other words, you put your own feelings aside to become whatever it takes to make things "nice" again. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scorpio:Your sign is famous for its love of depth, intensity, and digging below the surface. So what makes you crazier than anything is meeting up with someone who goes out of his way to be shallow, cavalier about important issues (especially the ones you feel most strongly about) and superficial. It makes you wonder what he or she is really up to - and wondering is what keeps you from getting a decent night's sleep.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sagittarius:You love to learn, travel, and have fun with interesting others. In short, if it's new, uncharted territory, if you feel that you're boldly going where no one has gone before - yourself in particular - then you're game. (&lt;/em&gt;What you can't stand - what you absolutely cannot and will not tolerate, no matter what - is boredom.&lt;em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;WRONG, I don't carry a standard of boredom, personally I have a peeve against people who are always bored, I know it's wrong, but something irks me about people always needing something new, fresh, and fun. Maybe its my own self loathing about NOT being new fresh and fun? People who are never satisfied, it bugs me because if you can be happy even in the boredom of life, then when something cool comes around you can know magic. Or maybe I still see magic in the everything, everyday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; That's your #1 Pet Peeve. A close second? Someone who dares to tell you "no," regardless of why.&lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;[Now this one is right on the money!!! Immensely, i know it's terrible.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Pisces:Your specialty, Pisces, is emotions, maybe even more so than sentimental Cancer. You're comfortable sniffling and dabbing at your eyes during a sad movie (or a commercial, for that matter) and rather - no, extremely - proud of your ability to sense what's wrong with a loved one before they even realize it themselves. So what makes you most irritated is when someone tells you you're being "overly emotional." After all, in your eyes (which is what matters), can you ever be too emotional?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea, so there it is. I had to try hard to avoid massive tangents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look,....ducks!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3373803040449878708-7510549134839361647?l=thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/feeds/7510549134839361647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3373803040449878708&amp;postID=7510549134839361647' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/7510549134839361647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/7510549134839361647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/2008/08/fun-with-astrology.html' title='Fun with Astrology!'/><author><name>The Ghost Of Christmas Past</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13917341622305941148</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAL7zMmlBKI/AAAAAAAAAQc/UZQEvMnpFRE/S220/DSC00528a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3373803040449878708.post-5784129998246414141</id><published>2008-07-02T02:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T11:36:36.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SKCGd6d89hI/AAAAAAAAAFE/xdzk8V6Icug/s1600-h/odfhq2_(38).bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233330615473731090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SKCGd6d89hI/AAAAAAAAAFE/xdzk8V6Icug/s400/odfhq2_%252838%2529.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Face it, Petunia! Our boy has gone yumpy!"&lt;br /&gt;The best word in recent history.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3373803040449878708-5784129998246414141?l=thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/feeds/5784129998246414141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3373803040449878708&amp;postID=5784129998246414141' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/5784129998246414141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/5784129998246414141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/2008/07/revenge.html' title='4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey'/><author><name>The Ghost Of Christmas Past</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13917341622305941148</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAL7zMmlBKI/AAAAAAAAAQc/UZQEvMnpFRE/S220/DSC00528a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SKCGd6d89hI/AAAAAAAAAFE/xdzk8V6Icug/s72-c/odfhq2_%252838%2529.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3373803040449878708.post-4809830083611071998</id><published>2008-05-27T01:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T03:13:33.904-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Abandoned</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SDvMPxbSjMI/AAAAAAAAADc/eZEAYkq60ew/s1600-h/alone_full.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204978365694643394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SDvMPxbSjMI/AAAAAAAAADc/eZEAYkq60ew/s400/alone_full.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I am starting to loose faith in peoples capacities of comprehension. Like the ability to comprehend the radical concept how they treat people when times get tough. Everyone knows how to treat people when things are good, but how many people endeavour to remain decent when things get shitty. The measure of a person in my humble opinion is not how good of a friend, lover, or family member you can be when the weather is fair, but when the climate is nasty, how well can a person hold &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; composure when they feel terrible. It is the human excuse time and time again to glorify the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;fair weather&lt;/span&gt; days, and excuse the misdeeds of the bad days and off moments. But when can people take &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;responsibility&lt;/span&gt; for themselves when they are at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; worst? We should remember most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;closely&lt;/span&gt; the good days, but examine and take &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;responsibility&lt;/span&gt; for the bad ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe people have it backwards. And what this backwards thinking lends itself to is people not correcting some of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; undesirable attributes. Because they have no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;accountability&lt;/span&gt; to themselves or to others of how they act and treat others when they are in a bad mentality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this realization of mine leaves me feeling very alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike many, but similar to a few, I examine the struggles of people, and my own very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;closely&lt;/span&gt;. And i keep adapting my ways to account for the holes i see in human communication. And the more i think get better, the further away from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;improvements&lt;/span&gt; i feel i slide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this adverse reaction makes me feel more alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;beginning&lt;/span&gt; to think that in human struggles, whether the conflict of nations and churches, or the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;quarrels&lt;/span&gt; of lovers and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;friends&lt;/span&gt;, uncomfortable communications renders people myopic and crude. It seems like only one out of thirty encounters yields a honest and quick remedy of disclosure and reconciliation. But most people succumb to quick and crude reactions to defend bad behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reality leaves me feeling alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i know i am wrong, and trust me i have a vast understanding of what i am capable in being wrong, I am true to myself, and I make it easy for another to feel validated. Because no matter how abstract i can be, and how judiciously i can argue a point or defend myself, i have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;infallible&lt;/span&gt; sense of what is wrong of my actions. And people &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;receive&lt;/span&gt; this from me. It is my unspoken gift to those I share words with to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;receive&lt;/span&gt; a clear acknowledgment of validation. That they are getting a person undiluted by my own motives. But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; afraid when it comes to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;receiving&lt;/span&gt; this from others, the golden rule tends to vanish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am trying to to create myself in the likeliness of what i desire. Fair, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;sensible&lt;/span&gt;, honest, and open. I am trying to mitigate myself and others against the pitfalls of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;opposite&lt;/span&gt; sided perspectives. I am trying to show myself the nature of my own worst qualities and the misgivings in others to people so that they and I can heal, and learn how to get right with each other. But the more i study and tweak i just seem to get more uglier results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it that people are unwilling to drop their egos? Or is it that we sometimes have uncompromisable defense mechanisms that cannot be shut down in order to take a better look at ourselves? Perhaps the science of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;introspecting &lt;/span&gt;is too vast, and renders people hostile to its meanings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have not yet had a confrontation where anyone but myself can pull themselves out of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; ass to see reason. This blind defense is agonizing for me to watch. Its like people are forever shackled to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;perceptions&lt;/span&gt; and this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;unbudging&lt;/span&gt; method creates a psychotic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;dysfunction&lt;/span&gt; that defies every plea and adjustment for reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These conclusions make me feel alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that in the end this reflection is all a bunch of nothing. Like a seed that cannot sprout roots remains &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;unfruitful&lt;/span&gt;, these concepts are lost to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;unthoughtful&lt;/span&gt;, and scoffed at by the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;oversimplifiers&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But feeling more and more alone especially when you feel you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;shouldn't&lt;/span&gt; have to leaves me feeling abandoned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want be be alone or feel abandoned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either I am going to have to back to the drawing board with myself, or I am going to have to learn to have more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;patience&lt;/span&gt; in the midst of these reflections.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3373803040449878708-4809830083611071998?l=thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/feeds/4809830083611071998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3373803040449878708&amp;postID=4809830083611071998' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/4809830083611071998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/4809830083611071998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/2008/05/abandoned.html' title='Abandoned'/><author><name>The Ghost Of Christmas Past</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13917341622305941148</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAL7zMmlBKI/AAAAAAAAAQc/UZQEvMnpFRE/S220/DSC00528a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SDvMPxbSjMI/AAAAAAAAADc/eZEAYkq60ew/s72-c/alone_full.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3373803040449878708.post-7506937483523920505</id><published>2008-05-03T15:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T01:27:27.200-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loves'/><title type='text'>To risk ones hand.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SBzlhsFEqiI/AAAAAAAAAB8/VBmO_UUG1OQ/s1600-h/DSC03098.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196280437009590818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SBzlhsFEqiI/AAAAAAAAAB8/VBmO_UUG1OQ/s320/DSC03098.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well, this moment certainly was fun. Many years previous to this picture i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;remember&lt;/span&gt; as a boy growing up i was always around fireworks. It was a yearly tradition around the 4t&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;h&lt;/span&gt; of July and New Years. I have fond memories of my Grandpa bringing home a big bag of fireworks, or my Dad bringing me home some. Little firecrackers, spinners, rockets, blooms, snakes, even those little tanks that spit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; sparks and rolled around. Ah yes and the sparklers, the smell of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;barbecue&lt;/span&gt; with hint of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;phosphorus&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;sulfur&lt;/span&gt; lingering in the air. But now days, due to many careless users who injure themselves and others or start fires, many cities and safety focus groups are making it illegal to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;possess fireworks, and even the safe and sane ones. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SB5pusFEqrI/AAAAAAAAADE/1br4QuxvWbs/s1600-h/Black+Cat+1b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196707270859467442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SB5pusFEqrI/AAAAAAAAADE/1br4QuxvWbs/s400/Black+Cat+1b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hmmmph&lt;/span&gt;, i say to that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;It's the same thing like when i was in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Chemistry&lt;/span&gt; class. Because of sue happy parents, teachers can no longer perform chemical reactions and other cool stuff that our parents got to experience.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know what it is inside me but there something so cool about fireworks. I guess its the sound and the presentation. Maybe its nostalgia. Who knows? I hope wherever i have my family it will be legal to enjoy them on the holidays, yes yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3373803040449878708-7506937483523920505?l=thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/feeds/7506937483523920505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3373803040449878708&amp;postID=7506937483523920505' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/7506937483523920505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/7506937483523920505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/2008/05/to-risk-ones-hand.html' title='To risk ones hand.'/><author><name>The Ghost Of Christmas Past</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13917341622305941148</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAL7zMmlBKI/AAAAAAAAAQc/UZQEvMnpFRE/S220/DSC00528a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SBzlhsFEqiI/AAAAAAAAAB8/VBmO_UUG1OQ/s72-c/DSC03098.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3373803040449878708.post-525202290484243885</id><published>2008-05-03T02:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T03:13:06.348-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loves'/><title type='text'>A Night At The Theater.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SBw31MFEqdI/AAAAAAAAABQ/Rls4RsxJj5A/s1600-h/DSC02634.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196089456993806802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SBw31MFEqdI/AAAAAAAAABQ/Rls4RsxJj5A/s320/DSC02634.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I love the theater. Though I have many loves, the theater is one of my favorites. It was Maite that told me that old cinema, or theater the best stuff available. The ablity to act, sing, and sometimes dance all at once was a true measure of peformance talent. And i now know this to be true. I think that watching musical theater is slowly becoming lost on people, sad truly. While people are lost in the soup of Dancing With The Stars, American Idol (hides from Natali), and Keeping Up with the Fucking Kardashians, there are real people, dancing, singing, and portraying in ways cosmically better. Who the fuck cares about the Kardashians anywa....nevermind, i digress. I guess some would say, who the fuck cares about my blog, good point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my blog, i win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here it is my, first real post. =D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3373803040449878708-525202290484243885?l=thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/feeds/525202290484243885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3373803040449878708&amp;postID=525202290484243885' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/525202290484243885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/525202290484243885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-love-theater.html' title='A Night At The Theater.'/><author><name>The Ghost Of Christmas Past</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13917341622305941148</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAL7zMmlBKI/AAAAAAAAAQc/UZQEvMnpFRE/S220/DSC00528a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/SBw31MFEqdI/AAAAAAAAABQ/Rls4RsxJj5A/s72-c/DSC02634.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3373803040449878708.post-1435154000996080152</id><published>2008-04-29T02:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T02:10:50.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The first words...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Well those of you whom I've told about my blog you are in the right place.  Come in and sit a spell.  Theres not much to look at right now, but soon there will be much to poke around in.   I just need to get some thoughts in order and get the look just right.   You know, blogs are nothing new any more, but man just to think.  What a curious speck of time we inhabit.   Well, come back soon.  I hope to update weekly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3373803040449878708-1435154000996080152?l=thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/feeds/1435154000996080152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3373803040449878708&amp;postID=1435154000996080152' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/1435154000996080152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3373803040449878708/posts/default/1435154000996080152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethinkersabbey.blogspot.com/2008/04/first-words.html' title='The first words...'/><author><name>The Ghost Of Christmas Past</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13917341622305941148</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PLC_g28BdKQ/TAL7zMmlBKI/AAAAAAAAAQc/UZQEvMnpFRE/S220/DSC00528a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
