<?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-8515876024282559917</id><updated>2012-02-16T00:11:41.885-08:00</updated><category term='really random'/><category term='death by trash'/><category term='boring'/><category term='education'/><category term='Life'/><category term='doomsday'/><category term='reflection'/><category term='Military'/><category term='MC Hammer'/><category term='muckraking'/><category term='movies'/><category term='showchoir'/><category term='society'/><category term='outdoors'/><category term='Not good'/><category term='random'/><category term='hunting'/><category term='fishing'/><category term='music'/><category term='bass'/><category term='school'/><category term='turkeys'/><category term='whitetails'/><category term='Books'/><title type='text'>Life Outside the Womb</title><subtitle type='html'>Is the poster child for false advertisement.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>73</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-44617450167751680</id><published>2009-05-25T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T17:23:42.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking Back</title><content type='html'>When I was told at the beginning of the year that I was going to be blogging, I freaked out. I was less mature at that point, and more than a little stressed out. I didn't even really know what a blog was, and I had to do one. Standing where I am at the end of the year, however, I'm really glad that I was require to make and maintain a blog. It really did help me as a writer to have to write about stuff on a weekly basis. I'm sure that I picked up some bad habits along the way, but they don't transfer into my formal writing. There is a line for me, between blogging and writing papers for school. I know when I have to stop doing one and start doing the other.There are just thing you can do in a blog that you can't in a paper, and the other way around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than all of that too, is how I've changed because of blogging. I bet Mr. Ayers didn't expect this, but blogging has made me into a fuller person. I'm always watching for thing to blog about, and as a result of that, I guess you could call it a happy accident, I've learned so much more about the world, life , and myself. Blogging has helped me to shape the person I want to become. Helped me find where I want to fit in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogging was always there if I needed to reflect on something that happened in my life, to kind of be my online guidance counselor.  This whole year I've slowly become more aware of things that I was previously unconcerned about. World affairs used to not pertain to me, because they didn't affect me personally. Now I have opinions of my own, instead of listening to the news or my parents and having their opinions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some problems with blogging though, and some of these might be unavoidable, but deadlines. I now it's three a week, but sometimes things just come up, and you don't have the time or resources to get in that weeks blogs, and then they pile up, not a fun thing to have to deal with. Just tell us when you're going to check them in. Word count. Now I realize that you have to have a word count for all of the people who wouldn't do the blogs, but it's just hard sometimes to fill the word requirement, and let's face it, the people who don't want to do the blogs, won't. Just think about that, because, I always tried to get as many words as possible, but sometimes what you have to say doesn't take a lot of words. I actually think you should do it the same way you did it this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that's left to say now is, thanks Mr. Ayers, you're a great teacher and your class helped me a lot. Have a great summer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-44617450167751680?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/44617450167751680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=44617450167751680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/44617450167751680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/44617450167751680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/05/looking-back.html' title='Looking Back'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2562385153236884594</id><published>2009-05-25T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T16:59:10.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life in Slow Motion</title><content type='html'>Have you ever wondered what life would be like if some people lived in slow motion, and others lived in fast forward. It would be crazy! the slow motion and fast forwards would have to live in different societies, because the fast forwards wouldn't have any patients at all. But putting a twist on it, the slow motions are more advanced, because they think things trough and have made many more technological advances that the fast forwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we have the fast forwards living on the ground in theirs formula one fast cars, while the slow motions live up in the sky on their state of the art hover crafts and their cities in the clouds. The fast forwards are jealous too. Whenever a slow motion lands on the ground. Fast forwards attack him and steal his hovercraft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After doing this for several years they finally have enough hovercrafts to take their people up to the cities in the sky. But the slow motions had seen what they were doing, and they're ready. They've built guns that slow the fast motions down to their speed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An epic slow motion battle ensues. The fast forwards, not being accustomed to moving in slow motion, get dominated by the slow motions. Then the slow motions who had been missing solid ground, move back down to land, and fill the planet with their slow motion-ness. The End.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow that was super random, but it's just supposed to be a stupid story to maybe make some people laugh. So if you laughed thank you, if not, your name is probably Mr. Ayers, and no I'm not high. Just really bored...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2562385153236884594?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2562385153236884594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2562385153236884594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2562385153236884594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2562385153236884594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/05/life-in-slow-motion.html' title='Life in Slow Motion'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-703242171426453736</id><published>2009-05-25T16:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T16:42:43.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking Forward</title><content type='html'>With all of the grad parties, and all of my friends leaving for college or the military, I've really started to think of my own venture out in to the real world. It's a scary thing to think about for me. Everything that has held me down, and more or less controlled my life will be gone in a year. Sometimes I try to picture myself after college, and I can't do it. Who knows what I'll go through, and what kind of person I'll be because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how I'll handle not having all of the rules to follow that I do now. What if I can't handle it? What if I get into bad stuff? So many what ifs fill my head that it's hard to think straight anymore. I'm reasoning with myself that I'll do fine. I'll have plenty of studying to do to fill my time. Also I know that I won't get in with the wrong crowd, because I've never been one to try to fit in by doing the wrong thing, or changing who I am to make others like me. I'm morally opposed to drugs and alcohol so I don't think that that will be a problem either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all of the things that worry me make way for the more positive things, I'm really excited for college. It's a new chapter in my life. The beginning of me becoming a contributing member of society. I don't know for sure what I want to be yet, but I have time. I was talking to my cousin in law the other day, and he told me that he changed his major three times while he was in college. So when I hear things like that I know that I'll be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading this if you did. It was more for me to put all of it down somewhere to better understand it, so sorry if it's confusing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-703242171426453736?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/703242171426453736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=703242171426453736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/703242171426453736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/703242171426453736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/05/looking-forward.html' title='Looking Forward'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-983872863492341945</id><published>2009-05-25T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T16:11:14.346-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>A Very Hectic Weekend</title><content type='html'>So much stuff to do so little time. Memorial Day weekend is supposed to be the weekend when you kick back and just go with the flow. Unfortunately I had a different direction to go then where the flow was taking me. I had a ton of grad parties to go to, and all of my end of the year homework that still isn't done. This is when time management really comes in handy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all of this stuff going on I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm missing something. I go through every day with this constant nagging at the back of my mind. I really can't figure it out. When I'm doing stuff actually I'm fine, but when I'm just sitting at a grad party or at home, my mind fills with this feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really can't even describe it. It's a feeling of being overwhelmed and a feeling of total helplessness. That's another reason school needs to get over, because I think school is somehow at the bottom of this feeling I have. If I have to deal with this much longer I think I might go insane. I'm afraid that this week I'm just going to have a meltdown, and it's not going to be pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm done complaining now. I'll just continue to bottle it up. No, just kidding, I think the technical term for it is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Senioritis&lt;/span&gt;, and I have it bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-983872863492341945?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/983872863492341945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=983872863492341945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/983872863492341945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/983872863492341945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/05/very-hectic-weekend.html' title='A Very Hectic Weekend'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-6223057369656851240</id><published>2009-05-25T12:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T12:21:55.115-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><title type='text'>End of Year Drag</title><content type='html'>It's the end of the school year. You know it's funny, I thought that the end of the year meant less stuff to do. Just a coast into summer, but it seems my teachers have a different idea about what the end of the year is supposed to be about. End of the school year to them means teach more in the last two weeks of school then they have all year. To them it's let's try to make the kids' heads explode, so that their summers suck ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so maybe that's not what they're thinking, but it sure seems like it. I have more homework now at the very end of the year than I've had all year at one time. It really sucks, because I have all of this homework, but absolutely no motivation to do it. Take these blog for instance, sorry Ayers, but that's why I waited until last minute to do them, is because I don't want to sit in my stuffy old basement when I could be outside enjoying a beautiful day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't get it. Do teachers not understand that kids' focus goes out the window this time of year? I'll probably never understand will I? Whatever I don't even care then. Peace out sukkas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-6223057369656851240?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/6223057369656851240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=6223057369656851240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6223057369656851240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6223057369656851240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/05/end-of.html' title='End of Year Drag'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-3121189123382730184</id><published>2009-05-25T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T12:10:31.406-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflection'/><title type='text'>Heroes</title><content type='html'>Why do we love heroes so much? I think the most obvious answer is envy. We envy the things they can do. We wish we were them and that's why we love them. I do not think that this is the real reason we love them so much. Sure it might be a big part of it, but there has to be something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all of the superhero movies coming out it started me thinking. What is it about them that so intrigues the human race? What I started to think of when I thought superheroes were not the heroes themselves, but rather the bad guys. Every superhero has one. Without and arch enemy, what is a hero besides someone that can fly or punch things?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all know that the bad guys in the movies never win, but sometimes I find myself rooting for them just a little. They really are the underdog, and people like an underdog to root for, even if that same underdog happens to be doing things that we are morally against.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a human addiction to danger that drives us to love them so much. We love to put ourselves in the spot of the hero and ask: what would I do in that situation? You can argue and say all you want about why we love them, but I'm saying it's all about the bad guys and the danger. We really are a twisted race of beings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-3121189123382730184?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/3121189123382730184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=3121189123382730184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3121189123382730184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3121189123382730184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/05/heroes.html' title='Heroes'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-7184768825129248508</id><published>2009-05-05T07:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T07:41:07.532-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death by trash'/><title type='text'>Wallowing in Our Own Filth</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SgBLJlJen-I/AAAAAAAAADo/6izM-ZvNyO4/s1600-h/landfill.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332344586769440738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SgBLJlJen-I/AAAAAAAAADo/6izM-ZvNyO4/s320/landfill.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Everyone knows that there is no escaping death or taxes in their lives, but there is something else they can't escape, waste. Waste is the byproduct of life, you can't live without producing waste. The problem comes when the waste starts to pile up and we run out of clever ways to dispose of it. Landfills were a good idea back when everything we threw out was decomposable, but now that we have all of these artificial products that take years and years to decompose they're becoming a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who wants to live next to that? They smell and they aren't fun to look at. I wouldn't want to look out my window everyday and see someone else's trash in my backyard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SgBMrZz3CmI/AAAAAAAAADw/WfD3R4um6mg/s1600-h/corn-4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332346267353156194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 278px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SgBMrZz3CmI/AAAAAAAAADw/WfD3R4um6mg/s320/corn-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And how do we know that these landfills are safe? How do we know that chemicals from our trash aren't seeping into the soil of the plot of land nest to the landfill, which just happens to be a farmers land that he grows his crops on. He harvest those crops and sends them to the store to be consumed by all of us. Sounds appetizing doesn't it? I mean you don't know what kinds of chemicals there are in the colorful wrappers of junk foods, but you might be consuming them on a daily basis.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We can't burn trash either. That harms the atmosphere. Sure it's an effective way to get rid of it, &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SgBPxr9teiI/AAAAAAAAAEA/zMLMqpln4Ik/s1600-h/farm_pile_corn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332349673840409122" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SgBPxr9teiI/AAAAAAAAAEA/zMLMqpln4Ik/s320/farm_pile_corn.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;but it turns out it's also an effective way to get rid of us. We need an answer soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SgBOr3Zi0kI/AAAAAAAAAD4/NRgZEv4ld1A/s1600-h/Litter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332348474319098434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SgBOr3Zi0kI/AAAAAAAAAD4/NRgZEv4ld1A/s320/Litter.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We have so much trash that it spills over into other places. People don't even care anymore they just throw there trash anywhere they want, just chuck it on the ground someone will get it, or not, whatever. It's ridiculous we're ruining our planet. Where the hell are we going to go when this one is gone? People you're bringing your own end. We're all going to drown in waste.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/8515876024282559917-7184768825129248508?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/7184768825129248508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=7184768825129248508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7184768825129248508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7184768825129248508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/05/wallowing-in-our-own-filth.html' title='Wallowing in Our Own Filth'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SgBLJlJen-I/AAAAAAAAADo/6izM-ZvNyO4/s72-c/landfill.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-8429607474856467747</id><published>2009-05-01T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T07:59:33.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scamdemic</title><content type='html'>Swine flu. Is it really something to be feared?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The big thing with swine flu is just that it is another form of the flu, only this strain has killed people. It has killed people in areas where there is insufficient medical care for the residents, and that is why they are dying. Not because this particular flu is more deadly than other kinds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year a quarter of a million people die of the flu.  And how many people have died of swine flu so far? Well give or take a few, there are about a hundred. I'm starting to get a little suspicious of this whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Egypt they started killing every pig in the country, places with a large pig population have been cut off from the world, Mexico, where it all started is quarantined. There isn't even any proof that people can get it from pigs, I know stupid right? We should have just called it rainbow flu or flower flu, because then people would be a lot less afraid of this flu that has only killed a fraction of what the flu does every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just another example of the media looking for ratings. If they scare you into believing that you're going to get swine flu and die, you'll watch their news cast to get all of the updates. Hope you don't die from swine flu America. Peace out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-8429607474856467747?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/8429607474856467747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=8429607474856467747' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/8429607474856467747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/8429607474856467747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/05/scamdemic.html' title='Scamdemic'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-1298792820434297228</id><published>2009-04-30T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T20:06:03.847-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends</title><content type='html'>I have to think of the right way to say this so that it doesn't sound weird and get me into trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently my friend had his first experience with drugs, pot to be specific. Everyone tries these things in their life I get it, but I also understand that drugs are illegal for a reason. Him and I have been going through some rough patches &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lately&lt;/span&gt;, and I don't think that he understands that I really do care about what he thinks of me and that I care about his well being. And no if he happens to be reading this, I'm not gay, and I'm not going to pull a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MF&lt;/span&gt; (you know who that is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways I get that you want to try new things, expand your boundaries, whatever, but can you please try to do it in another way. These things are illegal for a reason you know, and I'm sure your counter &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt; is that you won't get hooked, or it's just once, but how do you think junkies started out? Do you think they planned on getting hooked on their respective drugs? I bet they didn't, and I bet you don't either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a good life, why would you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;jeopardize&lt;/span&gt; that just so you can trip out for a few hours? You want to be a doctor. That's a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;competitive&lt;/span&gt; field you know. You have to keep your grades up. I'm sure you remember the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;stoner&lt;/span&gt; kid you always used to tell me about, who never tried and didn't care. Do you want to turn out like that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just scared for you is all. I'm being 120% genuine here. We've been friends since the crib for God's sake. I know it seems like we always have these &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;arguments&lt;/span&gt; were we don't seem to talk for a while, and I know most of the time it's my fault. You put up with my shit, and for that I thank you. Now try to take my advice. Much love...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-1298792820434297228?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/1298792820434297228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=1298792820434297228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1298792820434297228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1298792820434297228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/friends.html' title='Friends'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-8163130200576991955</id><published>2009-04-26T18:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T18:54:46.154-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Why Do We Do It?</title><content type='html'>When you think about it, life is a lot like golf. Most of the time you suck at it, and you convince yourself that you'll never play again, because of this intense hate you've found for the game. But then you hit a shot that make the whole day of bad golf worth it. There is a saying: Those are the shots that keep you coming back to the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that this quote can be applied to life as well. If you really think about it, and are completely honest with yourself, you spend most of your life troubled. I mean let's face it the bad things are what make the whole experience. Would you want to spend your whole life having everything you every wanted? No, of course you don't, because then you would have nothing to be proud of, nothing that you accomplished, nothing you could look at and say to the guy next to you, "Do you see that? Well I made that." The struggles believe it or not are the selling points of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all of the bad going on in life it's the good things that keep you going. They're the shots that keep ya &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;comin&lt;/span&gt;' back for more. When life has got you down and you think that things will never look up, life tends to find a way to break the mean steak. It hand you something and says: "Here you go, you deserve this more than anyone else." Those are the moments we witness, when a grown man has faced adversity his whole life to the point of being emotionally immune. But when the nurse brings in his new born son he's brought to tears by the shear joy of this new life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I do believe in a divine spirit, and I know a lot of people don't, but when you witness something like this it's hard to believe that there isn't something or someone up there smiling down on us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My uncle who was in Vietnam, recently professed his love for his wife in front of an entire congregation at his church. I was lucky enough to have been there to see it. They say that the young men who were in Vietnam are now incapable of showing emotion, but they didn't see my uncle pouring his heart out in front of all of these people, weeping tears of joy. That day he brought all of the people there watching to tears with him, it was truly a spiritually eye opening event for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why we live our lives, for moments like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-8163130200576991955?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/8163130200576991955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=8163130200576991955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/8163130200576991955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/8163130200576991955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/why-do-we-do-it.html' title='Why Do We Do It?'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-5960296059995499227</id><published>2009-04-26T18:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T18:38:12.813-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><title type='text'>Find a Place With No Windows</title><content type='html'>I'm blogging right now during the most intense thunderstorm this year, and it's so cool!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love thunderstorms so much. Ever since I was a kid, my family and I went out onto our porch when the sirens went off instead of heading for the basement like sane people do. I was scared a little when I was a kid, but I've grown to love them. On some occasions I even take walks in them. I almost always go drive in them, and it's always being a dream of mine to see a tornado in real life. I think they're fascinating, and I hope to see a lot of them in my life time, or just one, depending on how the first encounter goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what it is about them I like so much. I think it goes with the whole adrenaline thing, I get such a rush being in the middle of a storm that I've become addicted to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm seriously having a hard time finishing this one because the storm is being so distracting , every lighting strike is another reason for me to stop blogging and to start watching the storm again. this is truly the meaning of getting high on life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-5960296059995499227?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/5960296059995499227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=5960296059995499227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5960296059995499227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5960296059995499227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/find-place-with-no-windows.html' title='Find a Place With No Windows'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-3414982623983827093</id><published>2009-04-26T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T18:09:48.190-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doomsday'/><title type='text'>Where Will Earth Be?</title><content type='html'>Where will Earth be when humans all die off? Or when we all decide to up and leave the planet? Scientists are always talking about the ecosystem and how it can be severely damaged if one element is removed, but what about humans? Where do we fit in the delicate balance of nature? We just seem to be messing things up. We're guests on this beautiful planet and we're trashing it. All of these things that are happening, all the natural disasters, are because of us. Scientists are talking about how human technology in the twentieth century sped up the natural cycle so much that now the planet is in chaos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people say that all of these things happening are just part of the natural cycle that has been going on since the Earth took its present shape, and maybe they're right too, who knows? All I know is, humans aren't going to be around forever. Species die out everyday, it's the way of life, and we spend so much of our time trying to save all of the dying species, but what about us? Our population may be growing, but for how much longer. The Earth is only so big. You can only fill a balloon with so much air before it bursts. Well that's what we're doing right now, filling the Earth with so many humans and the other animals that we're saving that it's bound to burst.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not a question of if, it's a question of when, seriously you guys, the planet can only take so much and when we die, things will go back to normal again. The Earth will grow over our structures and paved roads, hiding them as if in shame. The Earth is ashamed of us. We've over stayed our welcome and now it's time to leave or be fumigated. The choice is ours, but seeing as how we're a stubborn race, I'm going to go with the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy doomsday everyone=)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-3414982623983827093?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/3414982623983827093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=3414982623983827093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3414982623983827093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3414982623983827093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/where-will-earth-be.html' title='Where Will Earth Be?'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2693107366847057642</id><published>2009-04-26T17:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T17:32:07.054-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><title type='text'>What's Wrong With Us?</title><content type='html'>You can't go a week without hearing about one, I'm talking about lawsuits. These days it's our answer to everything. My little girl was made fun of on the playground, I'll sue the school for not being strict enough on bullies. I put my kid on the back of my motorcycle and he fell off and died, since there wasn't a warning on the bike saying he could fall off I'll sue the dealership. People think that money somehow fills all voids, but it doesn't. I'm sorry, but if your kid dies because you were stupid enough to take him out on it in the first place, and you sue the dealership, it's not for "damages," it's you trying to drown your guilt in money, because you know that you shouldn't have taken him out on the damn thing in the first place, he was too young!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure I'm offending a ton of people by writing this but come on, it has to be said. It's our answer to absolutely everything, sue, sue, sue. We're trigger happy, money lovers. I understand that you're sad or mad or whatever it is when you sue, but what you don't think about is that you could be potentially ruining someone else's life. Is that really what you want? Your life temporarily inconvenienced, so you want to ruin someone else's life to make up for that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I'm saying is that it's getting ridiculous. For the stupidest things too. I heard one where a woman sued a furniture store because she broke her ankle when she tripped over her own son who was running through the store. She was awarded $780,000.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get a life. People like that deserve to be shot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2693107366847057642?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2693107366847057642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2693107366847057642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2693107366847057642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2693107366847057642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/whats-wrong-with-us.html' title='What&apos;s Wrong With Us?'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2224279489817186591</id><published>2009-04-25T18:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T17:05:09.797-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>One Giant Puzzle</title><content type='html'>Society is one giant puzzle, and all of the people are the pieces. I always thought that I was lucky because I knew what I wanted to do when I got older. You see, when I was in seventh grade I broke my neck, and because of that and because of all the things I went through during that time I decided to become a physical therapist. Until recently I had no reason to waver from the path  I was on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things began to change for me, all of my ideals were being challenged and I didn't know what to think any more. I starting reading, but not the kind of reading I was used to. I was reading magazine articles, books and and other things about current events so that I could begin to shape the person I'm going to become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess you could trace it back to the election. I wasn't old enough to vote, but I was taking an interest in the campaigns of all the major candidates. My parents disagree on the political playing field. My mom is a right wing conservative, while my dad is an independent who tends to side with the liberal agenda. Now before this election I really had no reason to be interested in politics, because, well let's face it when you're that young you have better things to do. Well this election was different, i wanted to have an opinion, I wanted to get involved, but where could I get one? I could go with my dad I thought, but that just didn't appeal to me so I decided to form my own opinion completely free of both parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when it happened I guess. I would read an article about what one candidate thought on an issue, and I would click on the various links and read those articles as well. It turned into one giant mold that I was trying to fill with all of my ideals and to eventually become my own person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sounds like a cliché, that everyone wants to know where they fit in the world, but I've come to realize that it's a big question you have to ask yourself when you're ready to experience the world. Who am I and where do I fit in the world?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still searching for my future self, I'm going to take it one book, article, and lecture at a time until I meet the man I will become. It's something that I feel very strongly about, and I want to know if any one else is going through what I am, comment if you are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2224279489817186591?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2224279489817186591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2224279489817186591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2224279489817186591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2224279489817186591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-giant-puzzle.html' title='One Giant Puzzle'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-4877152213748126167</id><published>2009-04-12T18:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T17:17:13.276-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Military'/><title type='text'>One Bullet Away</title><content type='html'>Nathaniel &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Fick&lt;/span&gt; was in the Marine Corps, during which time he was stationed in both Afghanistan and Iraq. In his book, &lt;em&gt;One Bullet Away, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Fick&lt;/span&gt; tells us about all of the things he experienced as a Marine officer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Fick&lt;/span&gt; went to college before joining the Corps, a situation that people don't really consider. People think that the military is a way for young punks to straighten out their troubled lives, they rarely if ever consider the possibility of a college graduate student being in the military. Well &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Fick&lt;/span&gt; tells us that his decision wasn't all that hard to make. He remembered a time when his house was broken into when he was standing right there, and the burglars just looked at him and laughed when he tried to stop them. He says that he'll never forget the look his dad gave him. He joined the Marines to become a man,to discover who he was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He takes us through the training he had to do to become an officer. To become an officer is a little different than becoming an enlisted Marine.  First off the requirements are a lot more strict, the military doesn't want it's enlisted men to be in the hands of a bunch of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;dumbasses&lt;/span&gt;. Second the training is different. They learn how to lead men. Enlisted men spend their training being taught to follow orders and obey their seniors, not so with the officers. Yes they are taught to follow the orders of their seniors, but they are also taught to give orders, how to get the respect of their men, and to stay calm in the face of danger to give them confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After completing training &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Fick&lt;/span&gt; was deployed on what was basically a practice tour. He sails with a company of men to get accumulated to commanding. The terrorist attacks of 9/11 happened during his deployment in the South Pacific, and his company was used as the first troops into Afghanistan so America could extract her revenge. He describes being proud that he was the one who got to retaliate against these men in the place of every American. He spent the remainder of his deployment on the ground in Afghanistan and when he returned home he transferred to First Recon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The majority of his book is based on his experiences while commanding in First Reconnaissance division. He conveys the stupidity of the way things were handled, the incompetence of the senior officers, and the overall experience of combat. Most of the problem lay in that the senior officers were there. Normally in Recon the highest ranking man on the ground are the sergeants, these teams within the platoons are trained and able to function as independent killing machines, and when you throw the seniors in there with them it inhibits the ability of the team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Fick&lt;/span&gt; gives us all of the details of combat and of his experiences in Iraq, good and bad. It's an excellent book and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;recommend&lt;/span&gt; it to all who want to learn more about what we're doing over there. He lays out the military &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;hierarchy&lt;/span&gt; in a way that is easily understood by even those who are completely ignorant of the military. Have fun reading it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-4877152213748126167?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/4877152213748126167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=4877152213748126167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/4877152213748126167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/4877152213748126167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-bullet-away.html' title='One Bullet Away'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-7595117207418958650</id><published>2009-04-11T20:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T20:31:46.455-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='society'/><title type='text'>Calm Before The Storm</title><content type='html'>The storm is coming people. Relatively speaking this is a quiet time historically. Forget that there is a war going on (get used to it, the U.S. will be in a war until she dies), and think for a moment. In the past the nation has always been more or less a constant progressive position. Not a decade went by where there wasn't something the public was willing to fight and die for, but for the past twenty years or so all has been quiet. Do not be fooled, I believe the fire of change is simmering beneath the surface of the youth waiting to break free and change the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are going to change believe me, and I plan on playing a key part in whatever it is. Maybe it'll be the war. People will get absolutely tired of our soldiers dying and fight the government with every last breath to end it. Maybe it'll be the economy. Picture the entire nation boycotting big corporations, not spending a dime of their money at monopoly stores, and instead buying from the little guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere, someone has a new idea on the way the country needs to be run. I mean you can't even comprehend what this person is thinking because it's just so revolutionary that it's going to shake the country all the way down to the foundation. Capitalism will be utterly destroyed by this new form of government designed to give everyone a fair chance or whatever it's going to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The school system too. What are we going to do about it? It can't stay the way it is. Today's school system was established back during the industrial revolution. Well we as a nation are far more than an industrial society today, so the schools will catch up or be forced by change to catch up. What do our schools do? They teach us how to take tests. Having book smarts is good and all, but what are we gonna do when out in the real world everything our books told us when we were in school is wrong? We'll be totally screwed. Because very rarely is anything that is taught in a book what ends up translating into reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever it is I hope it's big, and shakes up the establishment. The baby boomer generation that dug the grave we're now sitting in needs to be dethroned, and it's not even a question of if, it's a question of when. We've been calm and quiet for long enough, it's time for a progressive revolution.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-7595117207418958650?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/7595117207418958650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=7595117207418958650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7595117207418958650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7595117207418958650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/calm-before-storm.html' title='Calm Before The Storm'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-507224292457667058</id><published>2009-04-09T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T07:16:15.642-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='society'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><title type='text'>Why Americans Fail</title><content type='html'>Americans love to eat. McDonald's hamburgers have taken the place of the bald eagle as the nation's mascot. When I was in New York, I couldn't walk four blocks without seeing a McDonald's. We have created a system of excess. A system so large that even our lower classes have sunken into obesity. We eat our to our hearts content while an ocean away we have children dying everyday do to malnourishment. I know, change the record right. Everyone has heard this so many times they've become numb to it, and that's unfortunate. Even more unfortunate is that the problem is not likely to be fixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The population is growing, while food production is staying at a constant rate, in some places even being downsized. Does anyone else see a problem with this? If we don't do something, and fast the problem will just spread to include, not only third world countries, but the leading nations as well. When people are finally starving in America do you think we'll notice it then? No, because here's a news flash: PEOPLE ARE STARVING IN AMERICA!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our system of excess creates problems at home as well. Do you think that in third world countries they have teens with eating disorders? Hell no they don't because kids over there would give almost anything to eat as much as we do. We have all of these disorders and diseases that are only found in countries where luxuries are easy to come by. So while we're over here wallowing in our money and food thinking we have it made, we don't really. Our country is just as bad as some of those third world countries, we just have different problems that need fixing. But do we fix them? Of course not we just keep feeding our problems so they get bigger and bigger until eventually they'll become uncontrollable, and wreak havoc on our society. I just hope I'm not around when that day comes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a country we live in huh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-507224292457667058?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/507224292457667058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=507224292457667058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/507224292457667058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/507224292457667058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/why-americans-fail.html' title='Why Americans Fail'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-3718810688097634670</id><published>2009-04-09T07:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T07:15:59.582-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='society'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><title type='text'>Why Our Government Fails</title><content type='html'>Why do people work? You could argue for any number of reasons, but bottom line is, people work for money. I work for money, my parents work for money, and most of my friends work for money. Now when you work for money it's not unreasonable to think its yours, right? Wrong. The money that you have in your possession at the moment is considered the governments, you're just borrowing it for the time being. I don't know about you but this is starting to sound a little like Communism. You don't think so? Well what is Communism? A communist government owns everything in the country, from the cars to the businesses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In America we're under the false notion that we lead lives that belong to us. The government controls everything we do whether you want to believe it or not. The penalty for defacing money in the U.S. can range from a fine to a lengthy term in prison. Defacing &lt;em&gt;government&lt;/em&gt; property it's called. Sure the money is yours until you damage it, and then the government can send you to prison for five years. Yea, I know, ridiculous right? Isn't freedom wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another example. The house you live in. Is technically yours, until the government decides it needs to build a highway through your bedroom, and then all they have to do is pay you the minimum market worth and it's all theirs. Picture waking up one day, and there's a government official at your door with a check. Sure they'll give you time to "think" about it, but the house is theirs don't fight it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Communism and Capitalism are cousins. They might not be very close cousins, but don't let the checks and balances fool you. All forms of governments are related in some way. What the world needs is a totally new idea on how to run things, because let's face it things aren't really working out. However, no need to worry, we're all the property of the U.S. government for the moment. Have fun living your "free" lives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-3718810688097634670?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/3718810688097634670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=3718810688097634670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3718810688097634670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3718810688097634670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/why-our-government-fails.html' title='Why Our Government Fails'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-4816176111908387258</id><published>2009-04-05T19:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T19:21:06.846-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Have You Ever Noticed?</title><content type='html'>Have you ever stayed awake all night? I assume if you have that it was with a friend. Well when you were staying up with that friend did you just sit down and talk? Because I've noticed that when I'm sleep deprived I turn into a philosopher. I don't know why, whenever I try to be after a good nights sleep I end up feeling stupid. Why?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the answer lies in the way our brains work. I don't pretend to be an expert on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;workings&lt;/span&gt; of the human brain, but seeing how I have one, I think I'm allowed to speculate. I think that when you're tired your brain actually thinks more clearly because it isn't overloaded with all of the activity of the day. Your brain and your body are at ease. When you're tired I think that your brain is closer to the dream world than it is to reality, and this translates into seeing into the "great mysterious beyond," where all of the secrets of the universe are revealed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not just while you're talking with your friends either. I've found that I write better blogs while I'm tired. Some of them plain suck but others have a sort of mysterious quality to them, like, &lt;em&gt;what was I thinking about when I wrote this blog?&lt;/em&gt; It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; is a mystery that's worth studying. Maybe my boy Fred could add his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;input&lt;/span&gt; on the matter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-4816176111908387258?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/4816176111908387258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=4816176111908387258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/4816176111908387258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/4816176111908387258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/have-you-ever-noticed.html' title='Have You Ever Noticed?'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-1829326697644450439</id><published>2009-04-05T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T19:06:03.798-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><title type='text'>Plastic</title><content type='html'>It caused the Great Depression and it's causing the same problems today. Over extension of credit always leads to problems. In times of prosperity credit is handed out like it's going out of style, but when the people who get that credit fail to pay it back it causes problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't the point of studying history so that we can learn from our mistakes? The answer apparently is no. I guess we know better now so it's going to be different. It won't happen like it did back then. WRONG! It is happening, okay so maybe not as severe but it's happening. The credit crunch. What do you think that is? It's from the banks over extending credit to people who were unable to pay it back, and when it happened in mass, we were screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The idea of credit is a good one, in theory, but when put into practice it will cause nothing but problems. People get carried away with money, it's a certain feeling of pride when you can buy anything you like. It's when people forget that they'll eventually have to pay for that huge screen TV or that new hot tub that the problems start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another problem is in the way our country works, the way capitalism works. People's homes can be foreclosed, while the government owes them more than enough money than is there debt. Absolutely ridiculous the way the little guy gets screwed. What people owe the government is interested, so they end up paying more than the initial amount. But what the government owes is taxed and is not interested, so the people more or less end up getting less than what is owed to them. Just add it to the list of things wrong with society.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-1829326697644450439?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/1829326697644450439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=1829326697644450439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1829326697644450439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1829326697644450439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/plastic.html' title='Plastic'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2913957054603709141</id><published>2009-04-05T18:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T18:49:50.354-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><title type='text'>What is Racism?</title><content type='html'>Racism is a problem that has plagued humanity for a very long time.  But why do we as humans hold this hatred of another race? I think that racism was born from war, another flaw of humanity. Back in some time there was a war going on, a huge war that consumed many people. The people of this war hated the other side so much that as the war raged on their hatred became so deep it was impossible to let go of. When this war was over the feelings remained, but as time went on the hatred for the other side slowly migrated from one people to another. It had been so much a part of their lives that they didn't know haw to live without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they passed down their hatred to their kids and they passed it down in turn to there kids. This is how it became such a problem. But the solution to racism started to show itself as well. Those who were able to give up their hate mixed into other societies and cultures, distorting the line between different races of people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some day, I hope there will no longer be a line. That all faces will become one. I think that's what we're starting to see today. Racism still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;exists&lt;/span&gt;, but it's slowly dying, some where along the way parents stopped teaching it to their children who then went on to distort the line between races.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that could happen, is, the amount of radiation in the atmosphere, slowly but surely turns everyone on Earths skin into a glowing green color.Once everyone is green how will people distinguish between races? They won't so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;HA&lt;/span&gt;! There's a perfect solution.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2913957054603709141?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2913957054603709141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2913957054603709141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2913957054603709141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2913957054603709141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-is-racism.html' title='What is Racism?'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-3612442634620382523</id><published>2009-04-05T14:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T18:30:48.329-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Books to Movies</title><content type='html'>Books are a doorway. That doorway can take you anywhere you could possibly want to go and some places you might not want to go. The problem is, when some genius gets it into his head to turn that book from a doorway into a window about sixty feet wide. What I'm talking about, is when books are made into movies. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the film industry, it's just books are better left books. Books can just give you so much more. There's a huge difference in reading about every minute detail of the story, and losing the details because of what else is going on in the shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only example that I can think of that is perfect for what I'm trying to say is Harry Potter. I've read all seven books and seen every movie up to this point, and with every movie I've been disappointed. The one Harry Potter movie that I thought came close enough to the book to pass, was The Chamber of Secrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is partly in the length of the book. If you tried to put everything into a movie from what happens in The Goblet of Fire, you would have a movie that was a week long. Another problem facing film makers is funding. Granted the popularity of the series, it still costs a lot of money to employ all those people to build the set, man the equipment, and all the other stuff that goes on behind scenes. Add to that the money you have to spend on props and actors and you have yourself a pretty large bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A third problem that you might or might not think about, is deadline. I know it seems like they already take enough time to make, but when the person funding the movie says I want this movie done by this time, well it better be done or bye bye money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think until they come up with a way to fully immerse the viewer into the world of movies this problem will continue to plague the film industry, but I'm willing to wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-3612442634620382523?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/3612442634620382523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=3612442634620382523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3612442634620382523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3612442634620382523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/books-to-movies.html' title='Books to Movies'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-1487453451315825794</id><published>2009-04-05T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T11:06:46.484-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doomsday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Military'/><title type='text'>Nuclear Payload</title><content type='html'>When the U.S. dropped the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it set in motion a fierce race between the Soviet Union and the U.S. to have weapons more superior than the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoever said that a little competition was good for you wasn't referring to the Cold War. Atmospheric tests of the Atom Bomb and soon after that, the Hydrogen Bomb released radiation into the air to drift where the wind took it. At the time we didn't know enough about radiation to &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt; testing it in the atmosphere, but have no fear the government had the answer to that to. The U.S. government at the time was conducting secret experiments to test what radiation does to humans. They did this on people, often without having the consent of the victim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The U.S. and Soviets competed for nuclear arms superiority until 1991 when a tense truce was reached. Since that time much has been done to disarm both nations and government run organisations are slowly dismantling the two nation's warheads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do we feel the need to be armed with enough nuclear weapons to kill of the human race? That answer escapes me. Or maybe the answer to that question is above all our pay grades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of today the U.S. has more than 20,000 nukes, with half that number on hairline triggers, already pre targeted, fueled up, just waiting for the signal to fly their destructive path. All it would take is one accidental firing of a nuke from either side and within twenty-four hours, the world would be uninhabitable. Pretty scary when you think about it, but most people don't know any of this stuff. Ignorance is bliss right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-1487453451315825794?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/1487453451315825794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=1487453451315825794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1487453451315825794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1487453451315825794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/nuclear-payload.html' title='Nuclear Payload'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2339600116018974936</id><published>2009-04-05T10:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T10:28:19.565-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Military'/><title type='text'>The War</title><content type='html'>The War in Iraq has been going on for the better part of a decade, or if you wanna get technical you could say for the better part of a few decades with small intermissions. It's been going on for so long that most people couldn't even tell you what we're fighting for anymore. The reason anyone even considered setting foot in the Middle East in the first place, is the huge oil field that lie beneath it's surface.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in his infinite wisdom president Bush decided to give our occupation of this foreign country a noble name. The War On Terrorism. How valiant he made the invasion sound in the wake of 9/11 to get the support of the American people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We let Bush get us so rooted in Iraq that now that a new president wants to pull us out he's finding it more difficult and facing criticism of his own. Well I for one am not happy, because not only are our troops still over there, they aren't always as protected as we would want them to be. Because this war has lasted so long the financial support that it had at the start has deteriorated. Add to that the growing recession and you find our troops a thousand miles up shit creek without a paddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even at the start of the war some of our troops were going to Iraq ill equipped to fight a war. Their mode of transportation, Humvees with little or no armor, and with little hope of stopping a round from an AK, much less a direct hit from an RPG. We have to face the facts. When we sent our troops over there it was an act of retaliation. We didn't give them time to prepare properly for what they were to face, and the situation has hardly improved. In some cases, soldiers used scrapes of metal to add extra protection to the doors of their Humvees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of our our troops being neglected. It's time to either stop this war, or give them sufficient supplies to fight the enemy. If we don't there will be many more problems in the future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2339600116018974936?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2339600116018974936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2339600116018974936' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2339600116018974936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2339600116018974936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/war.html' title='The War'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-1341871054190880966</id><published>2009-04-05T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T11:06:14.617-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doomsday'/><title type='text'>Why We're All Doomed</title><content type='html'>More snow!!! You have got to be kidding me! I am so sick of winter that I might move to the equator. That's my brilliant solution. Last week I was outside almost everyday. It was great I thought that as soon as the ice melted on the lakes and I got some time I'd be on my way to do some fishing. But no... I've been forced to wait even longer, because some genius who decided to use oil for everything we do, use, or make, set in motion global warming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are so dependant on oil as an entire global society that even when we want to fix the Earth (NOW) we can't because oil has a strangle hole on us. If you think of the entire Global community as a person, the oil is the life blood. Now let's think, how do you remove the circulation system of a body without killing the individual? Can it even be done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Option 1: We can wait until our blood runs dry. Pessimists say that it could happen as early as 2019, while optimists put the the date between 2030 and 2040. But even when you pick which one you want to believe you're still only a DECADE away from the guy who chose opposite you! If we let our supply of oil run out with out having a fall back or some form of fixing the problem, then the world will almost certainly be finished. Nations will turn against one another, unleashing their armies to destroy everything, or the U.S., Britain, and the Soviets will let fly their combined total of 20,000 nuclear missiles, destroying life as we know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'd rather that not happen, so, Option 2: We start now, slowly replacing our life blood with another, just as nourishing substance. Methods to do this are already developed, the problem is cost. I don't know about any of you, but I don't like my government, in charge of ensuring my safety, putting a price on my life, but that's what they're doing. We need a change, and now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know that those who are in power are always criticized on what they do. It's easy for me, down here at the bottom to do, I'm not the one in charge of 300 million lives. Unfortunately for us this translates into option number one being the likely candidate for success. So good luck surviving nuclear destruction all, I'm going to Venus:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-1341871054190880966?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/1341871054190880966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=1341871054190880966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1341871054190880966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1341871054190880966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/why-were-all-doomed.html' title='Why We&apos;re All Doomed'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2242015767679516487</id><published>2009-04-02T07:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T09:08:49.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Frazier International History Museum</title><content type='html'>Telling the history of the world through weapons. That's what the Frazier International History Museum does. I had the chance over spring break to visit the museum, and I was pleasantly surprised. I thought the the idea of it sounded cool when my dad told me about it, but I didn't know if it was going to live up to my expectations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It did however. The place is packed full of history like you wouldn't believe. If you go to their website, &lt;a href="http://www.fraziermuseum.org/"&gt;http://www.fraziermuseum.org/&lt;/a&gt;, you see that they have so many interesting and fascinating mementos from the past. One that I thought was pretty cool was their collection of Teddy Roosevelt's riffles, including his "Big Stick." They have George Washington's rifle, General Custer's colt, and another unnamed rifle that is five feet long, weighs forty pounds, and has to be operated by two men!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You start on the third floor beginning at the disappointingly small collection of Stone Age weapons. Then as you walk around you slowly work your way through time. When you have seen all there is to see on that floor, you simply walk down the stairs to continue your journey through history. And when done with that floor there is yet another for you to go through! Don't, however, let the mass of screaming elementary school kids distract you from this truly wonderful experience. I do advise, that before you go you do a quick brush up on your history so that you can impress the people you're with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After you have been through the whole museum you can check out the gift shop. Where you can buy a wide variety of things, from swords to Harry Potter books. They have a collection of cologne dating back to the French Revolutionary that you can try on. Or if you like you can buy Thomas Paine's &lt;em&gt;Common Sense,&lt;/em&gt; pretty sweet huh?&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;Well that's all I got, if you want more you'll just have to go check it out for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rog OUT!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2242015767679516487?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2242015767679516487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2242015767679516487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2242015767679516487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2242015767679516487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/frazier-international-history-museum.html' title='Frazier International History Museum'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-7363378466140232636</id><published>2009-04-02T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T07:41:05.316-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Military'/><title type='text'>Generation Kill</title><content type='html'>Generation Kill is an 7 part HBO mini series that follows the first recon marines as they invade Iraq. Recon Marines are the best of the best. They're used in war to gather Intel on enemy positions and other missions where stealth is essential. On average the U.S. military spends a million dollars to train each recon Marine. Which is a huge jump from the $300,000 spent on the average grunt. The reason they spend so much more is that recon Marines have to be train in every field imaginable, from common fighting to diving and parachuting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in this war, the geniuses behind the planning decided to use First Recon Battalion as shock troops. This means that they were the first ground troops to enter Iraq at the start of the invasion. Is this starting to sound like a bad idea? Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The series is based on a novel by Evan Wright and is sort of a shot to the command of the Military. The series shows the stupidity of Bravo Company's commanding officers in their need to impress their superiors. It's really frustrating at times to be watching and know that they had to face some of the stuff they did. The extent of the stupidity ranges. In one episode it shows the Marines in light armoured &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Humvees&lt;/span&gt; strong pointing towns so units of tanks and other armoured units can roll through. One of the Marines commented: "Why should battalion send a five million dollar tank to be destroyed, when they can send us in our piece of shit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Humvees&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The series is all about their journey both physically and mentally through Iraq. You see how the war affects each of their personalities, and the actors do a great job of portraying these changes. But one thing that stays consistent through the whole thing is the brotherhood that has formed between these men. It left me yearning for that kind of bond, knowing that any one of the guys would give their life for you and you would do the same in return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a highlight real from Generation Kill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bobBTYwkDhc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bobBTYwkDhc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This war is far different from any war that has ever been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;fought&lt;/span&gt;. World War One start modern warfare and the War in Iraq has started the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;future&lt;/span&gt; of warfare. The Soldiers fighting in this war have been more prepared to kill the enemy. The art of war has been industrialized in the sense that our troops are semi-skilled workers to work the machines of death. I just hope that we don't get too carried away and lose sight of the reasons we fight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-7363378466140232636?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/7363378466140232636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=7363378466140232636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7363378466140232636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7363378466140232636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/04/generation-kill.html' title='Generation Kill'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-8544073128018388613</id><published>2009-03-15T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T18:40:46.389-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='really random'/><title type='text'>The Simplified Mind of a Killer</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HxNiOK_-hrs&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HxNiOK_-hrs&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wonder if John Wilkes Booth had the same thought when he decided to assassinate Lincoln. Think about it, he was an actor, at first thought to have been helping the south. But he ended up not helping the South, he ended up hurting the South. It was found out after the fact that he wasn't known to have been workin with or for anyone, which begs the question: did he just want to be famous?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now I know there have been some pretty far fetched theories about stuff like this, but I bet this one is the farthest out there. I want to be the guy who thinks so far outside the box that the other guys living outside the box look at me and say who the hell is this whack job. If I can do that then I believe I'll have accomplished my short term goal of being unique. If your thinking wow that's a pretty big short term goal you should see the long term ones. I don't want you to tell anyone this, but I was thinking of growing my own island. No not like in Superman, mine will have more Kryptonite so that Superman can't stop me..Duhh. Alls I'm saying is that if I have my own island I can set up my own government, and eventually be recognised by the world as an independent nation, my main export being of course, coal, don't ask me how I just know it will be. But then eventually I'll let the U.S, annex my nation, turning a hefty profit of $50,743,826,972.569. That's right I got it down to a science. And just a side note to China, you better not interfere because I will whoop your ass for real. Peace!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-8544073128018388613?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/8544073128018388613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=8544073128018388613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/8544073128018388613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/8544073128018388613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/03/simplified-mind-of-killer.html' title='The Simplified Mind of a Killer'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-5351024159563293980</id><published>2009-03-15T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T17:56:40.971-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><title type='text'>The Little Things</title><content type='html'>You hear people say it a lot, and it's really become sort of a cliché. But you really do have to appreciate the little things in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you a little story. I had been working for about three hours this morning. Catering to the Sunday brunchers and the Saturday night drunkards trying to keep their buzz from the night before. It was overly hot in the restaurant, because the heat was still on even thought the temperature had reached nearly seventy degrees. When I finally got cut, I walked outside. The warmth hit me like a brick wall when when I stepped out into the sun. Then as if that was enough a fresh cool breeze hit me, instantly cooling me off and cleansing my entire being it seemed like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You never do truly realize how cold you've been during winter until the warmth of spring replaces the chill all the way down to your marrow. The little moment outside of my work place refreshed my life. Not that I was depressed or anything, but if there were ever any doubts they're officially gone now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope that the warm weather is here to stay this time. Twice now mother nature has teased us with warm weather only to to replace it with below zero temperatures, but not this time. If it happens again there will be a full scale revolt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Looking for soldiers to fight mother nature in the revolt. All applicants welcome. Must be eighteen years or older to apply.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-5351024159563293980?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/5351024159563293980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=5351024159563293980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5351024159563293980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5351024159563293980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/03/little-things.html' title='The Little Things'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-1872584647471701865</id><published>2009-03-12T08:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T18:15:11.143-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><title type='text'>Twitter</title><content type='html'>Have you heard of this? It's a website you can go to, get an account and then send it answers to simple questions via text or just through the web. Normally no big deal, just another stupid social networking site, but in my opinion this is becoming a problem. I saw a special on TV the other day about Twitter. The segment talked about how politicians actually go on to this website while their sitting in committee to post. That's absolutely ridiculous. I'm not going to pretend to know exactly how it works, or why it holds so much appeal, but I do know a problem when i see one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These guys are supposed to be shaping our country and instead they're posting answers to stupid questions for their friends instead of having debates and passing laws. You elect these people people. You should be outraged. The laws that you want passed are sitting idle because your congressman/woman is tweeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I know. How are we going to stop them. Well I would say just to set up a cell phone jammer so that they can't access the web on their blackberries, but there is always the occasional emergency call so we don't want to do that. If I may suggest something so extreme as to stop electing officials that slack at their job? what if when you hear of one of them doing this, and the next time he/she is on the chopping block to simply chop them. And make it clear why you did it too. So that the nest one has no illusions of how you feel about the matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Socialize on your own time, not our time, not the nations time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-1872584647471701865?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/1872584647471701865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=1872584647471701865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1872584647471701865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1872584647471701865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/03/twitter.html' title='Twitter'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2627546003019262323</id><published>2009-02-12T15:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T15:17:58.447-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>I've been wondering for awhile if it would be possible to write an entire blog in the title. And it looks like it is so here I go. It's not going to b</title><content type='html'>Looks like that's all the farther you can get. Darn. Oh well &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'll&lt;/span&gt; finish the boring way. I have anger issues. Wow that was to the point. I've had it since I was little, the only thing that has changed is that I can now &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;suppress&lt;/span&gt; my seething hatred of others when I get pissed off. When I was a kid and annoyed the tiniest thing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; set me off. I'd see a kid walking and laughing, I'd get angry and hit him with a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;rock&lt;/span&gt;. He would usually cry to an adult and I would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;gladly&lt;/span&gt; pay the consequences, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;cuz&lt;/span&gt; quite frankly I didn't give a @&amp;amp;!^. I have since come to terms with the fact that there is a name for those like me: asshole. That's me, but now, while I still don't care if I am one or not, I realized you can't make it if you are one. Go figure. So I'm changing my ways. Maturity has been the biggest help in fixing my problem. Some of the people who know me reading this right now are saying to themselves, "He is not mature at all, " but if only they knew what I have to do in order not to verbally tear their head off &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; I get really cheesed off. And so I don't dig my hole that much deeper I'm just going to end this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. your opinion doesn't matter to me, so don't bother with a comment on this post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2627546003019262323?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2627546003019262323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2627546003019262323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2627546003019262323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2627546003019262323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/02/ive-been-wondering-for-awhile-if-it.html' title='I&apos;ve been wondering for awhile if it would be possible to write an entire blog in the title. And it looks like it is so here I go. It&apos;s not going to b'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-1203770062433056244</id><published>2009-02-12T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T15:04:19.621-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Internet Diary</title><content type='html'>Blogs whether we want to admit it or not are forms journals, it's a diary. Blogging a thing you do to convey your feelings about this or that aka a diary. But this diary is a huge reach from the conventional lock and key notebook you find hidden under a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;teen's&lt;/span&gt; bed. It's the most public place anyone could record things about there life short of sending a mass e-mail. So why do we do it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think before you answer that question you need to understand the way we function as a society. We all want our information now. Practically no one has the time, or patience to wait five minutes anymore. The Internet meets and feeds this growing addiction. Also without offending anyone I'd like to address the rebel in all of us. Everyone has a need to be noticed and the need to express one's self. Some of us bottle it up, others show it in our outward appearance, and still others find a comfortable medium. The last is where I think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bloggers&lt;/span&gt; fit in. Now if you're a blogger and I've completely missed you, maybe you're a phenomenon, or maybe you just aren't human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogging is a way to do both at the same time, and since it is in such a public place naturally there will be tons of people who flock to it. If you look at blogs the majority of them are peoples feelings, the reason I don't want to say all is that there is always the one or two exceptions. It's such a personal thing as well. You can read a persons blog, preferably one of there rants and say to yourself, "Yea I think I get know that person now." I don't know if This is just me but when I write a blog I feel like it is really good at the time but then when I go back and read it later I think &lt;em&gt;wow i must have been in a bad mood &lt;/em&gt;or &lt;em&gt;wow I was not awake at all when I wrote that.&lt;/em&gt; When you write in the heat of the moment you're bound to make mistakes, I think I'm one of the biggest offenders. I've gone back and spell checked some of my blogs and you would think I never passed third grade English. But there is also something immensely satisfying about putting you feelings into words. Putting your frustration or anger into an 800 word rant makes you feel good afterward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure there are dry times when all you can think is &lt;em&gt;what the hell am I going to blog about now,&lt;/em&gt; but an idea always comes to the rescue and the words flow on to the Internet with ease. This has been fun, but I think I may have rambled a bit there in middle. My apologies. Happy blogging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-1203770062433056244?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/1203770062433056244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=1203770062433056244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1203770062433056244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1203770062433056244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/02/blogging.html' title='Internet Diary'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-5794469229058797693</id><published>2009-02-12T07:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T15:47:30.351-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Definition of Pompous Ass</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5701CEQ79fo&amp;amp;hl=" width="425" height="344" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" fs="1" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I saw this video I read an &lt;a href="http://tv.yahoo.com/blog/husbands-behaving-badly--120"&gt;article&lt;/a&gt; about the world's worst husband, and I thought I'd look into it further. The &lt;a href="http://tv.yahoo.com/blog/husbands-behaving-badly--120"&gt;article&lt;/a&gt; also has several links to various websites that stemmed from this particular episode.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;You can also watch part two if you want. Here's the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lf2xp1Hmi6g"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This guy was born in Britain, and he CHOSE to come to the U.S., why so he could live with the people he seems to hate so much. I mean seriously dude go back to your damn country. But wait, maybe they don't want your ass back, because you were so demeaning to so many people in so many ways that I think you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;offended&lt;/span&gt; most of the people in the world. How could someone be such a fool as to think that when he opened his mouth to put down this lady it was a good idea. We Americans have a thing that when you insult one of us that is an insult to all of us. We don't care what class you come from, how much money they have, none of that. When they are insulted by a person not from this country, those a fighting words. We become an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;impregnable&lt;/span&gt; wall not to be messed with, because this wall fights too.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I just wish that he could see how bad he looks bashing this woman who did nothing but agree to switch families for a couple weeks, hoping to learn something from the experience. Instead she got this asshole telling her, basically that she isn't good enough to lick the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;bottom&lt;/span&gt; of his shoes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The show Wife swap is known for the odd swaps they make, but come on, isn't there some kind of weed out system, or maybe the producers are just as guilty in the matter as he is. They might not have known exactly what was going to happen, but I bet they knew from all the interviews they had with this family that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; big was gonna happen. Well they got their wish but I bet the shows from now on are a little less extreme, because if I'm not mistaken this is there second offense. Take a look at this.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/q3mDLsyn6ns&amp;amp;hl=" width="425" height="344" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" fs="1" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;WOW! Nuf said.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-5794469229058797693?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/5794469229058797693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=5794469229058797693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5794469229058797693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5794469229058797693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/02/definition-of-pompous-ass.html' title='Definition of Pompous Ass'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-5189205444505190389</id><published>2009-02-05T07:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T13:45:05.068-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='turkeys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fishing'/><title type='text'>Thinkin' About Spring</title><content type='html'>With all of the warm weather that we had last week I've really been craving spring. Every year it feels like winter lasts until you can hardly stand it. But then when spring comes you take advantage of it, and before you know it you're locked back in the cold embrace of winter. I vow that this year will be different, I'm really going to appreciate what spring has to offer. I'm going to go crappie fishing every weekend in my friends boat. The only weekends that we won't go will be the weekends that we go turkey hunting.I've been looking forward to both for a very long time, and when the time comes I'm going to hunt and fish them like there's no tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week my brother and I spent a long time talking about all of the different places we were going to try out this year. We even talked about going on a weekend trip to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Minnesota&lt;/span&gt; to fish to our hearts content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent most of the week checking our hunting and fishing stuff making sure that it was all still good to go so that when the time comes we'll be ready. All of my fishing gear was in mint condition, but there are a few lures that I want to buy. My hunting gear was a similar story, but I need to buy another &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;camo&lt;/span&gt; shirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't think I can seriously stress to you how excited I really am, and sorry to those who don't care. I mean you really don't have to read this unless you're Mr. Ayers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway back to the subject. My uncle is a fisherman as well and we've already arranged several fishing weekends with him. My brother and I were also talking about buying a cheap boat that we could hook to the back of my dad's pickup. It is going to be the best spring/summer thus far.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-5189205444505190389?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/5189205444505190389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=5189205444505190389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5189205444505190389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5189205444505190389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/02/thinkin-about-spring.html' title='Thinkin&apos; About Spring'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-230536107653456708</id><published>2009-02-05T07:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T12:31:21.885-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='education'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><title type='text'>Honestly?</title><content type='html'>I was recently reading an &lt;a href="http://www.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,1876840,00.html"&gt;article&lt;/a&gt; in Time Magazine, about testing teachers randomly for drug use. It made some very good points about the topic, which I realize is the job of the journalist but I would like to talk about it a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Money is always an issue in today's world, and 37,000 dollars is a good chunk of change. But a question you have to ask is: Is it worth it to protect your kids? Some people would say no, who obviously don't have kids, or use drugs themselves. These teachers are huge influences on your kids. Let's make a conservative estimate. Say each teacher in America comes into contact with with 25 kids a day. Four percent of all teachers in the U.S. reported using drugs. Now there are a lot of teachers in the U.S. and multiply that by twenty-five and you have a lot of kids who have potentially learned more than the curriculum intended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it worth it to spend 37,000 dollars to reduce that number? Hell yea it is! But, maybe random isn't the best way to go about it. Maybe we should give full discretion to principals to drug test any teacher that they might think has been indulging. This was suggested in the article but only with probable cause. Why just that? Let the teachers sweat thinking that their boss might tell them at any minute to go to the bathroom, the psychological factor seems to be more effective than just random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fear money, as usual will drive this endeavor into the ground. It's a shame we have to put a price tag on our kids and ultimately our FUTURE because of our own greed. Just add it to the list of things wrong with the world, and prepare for your demise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-230536107653456708?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/230536107653456708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=230536107653456708' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/230536107653456708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/230536107653456708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/02/honestly.html' title='Honestly?'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-5670421741743933985</id><published>2009-02-05T07:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T07:18:54.951-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>The Uneding Frontier</title><content type='html'>Music might not be the "final frontier," but it sure is the infinite frontier. If you think that music has reached it's full potential, you are, quite frankly, an idiot. Do you think that back during the Renaissance, the great thinkers, and innovators of culture thought they were the end of evolution? Not a chance they knew that someday more great thinkers would come along and repeat the process all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just think of all the different styles of music there are, and then think of all the sub- genres there are. Wow, I'm with ya, that's a lot, and I know it's hard to believe that there are an infinite amount more out there just waiting to be thought of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in the time when symphonies were in there prime do you think that people had any concept of Hip-hop? No, which is why you can't dismiss the fact that out there are many more styles of music waiting to be born. I just hope that it happens again in my life time, that the next big thing in music is thought of and put to action. Even if I'm an old senile man and I am too pig headed to appreciate the new music I will somewhere inside of myself be honored to have witnessed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I'm not putting my wonder at this concept into words well enough. Which is the curse of putting thoughts to words I think. Oh well I'll let my thoughts simmer until I'm overcome with the way to inform the masses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-5670421741743933985?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/5670421741743933985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=5670421741743933985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5670421741743933985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5670421741743933985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/02/uneding-frontier.html' title='The Uneding Frontier'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-7612813300954842692</id><published>2009-02-05T07:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T07:30:49.991-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><title type='text'>The Art of Deceit</title><content type='html'>You learn it at a very young age. Lying is a skill, learned by most at the age of three or four. I was recently watching my younger cousins having a wrestling match. One got angry that his sister was beating him so he found the nearest toy and hit her on the head with it. Now she's very tough for a nine year old (something I attribute to myself as a "bully" cousin), but this was too much for her. She started crying. My uncle, who had been watching the whole time, asked my cousin in an angry father voice why he hit her. My cousin, on the verge of tears himself at the prospect of getting in trouble did what any kid does, he lied. Even though he knew that he was caught he insisted on lying through his teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is this? That a six year old kid can lie so readily and obviously to his father who had just seen him commit this crime. I blame society. One can't survive in modern society without knowing how to lie. Politicians get paid to do it, and every day I feel our moral nobleness slipping away from our filthy hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like there is nothing to be done about the problem, and at this I despair. It has become fatally intertwined with our lives that if taken away would be comparable to removing our pancreas. I'm not ashamed to admit that I lie as readily as the next guy, which might be part of the problem. We aren't even ashamed of it anymore. A man's word used to be important to him than his life. Now most people would stab their closest friend in the back and lose their honor than lose their selfish life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm deeply saddened by the current condition of the human race, and I despair that the course we're going will lead to a fatal end, sooner rather than later. To whoever is listening if you have ideas to reform put them into action, and soon! I don't mean to sound so ominously cheesy, but the fate of the human race depends on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-7612813300954842692?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/7612813300954842692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=7612813300954842692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7612813300954842692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7612813300954842692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/02/art-of-deciet.html' title='The Art of Deceit'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-7227228416576384546</id><published>2009-01-31T22:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T07:40:26.618-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Books</title><content type='html'>There's a book for everyone. People who haven't found the joy of being lost in a book are seriously depriving themselves of a full life. No matter what your interests are you can stop into the local bookstore and most likely you'll be able to find a book for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to share a story with all of you. The other week I was beginning to read a new book. It was an intensely good book. Soon I found myself completely and utterly taken over by the words on the page. I read and read until my eyes hurt and couldn't make out the words on the page anymore. I looked up at my clock. I knew it was late but what I saw was unbelievable. My clock read five thirty am!!! I had read the entire night. I looked out my window and I could already see the first rays of the sun showing over the trees. Not only had I read all night, but I had nearly finish the book I had been reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole experience scared me a little. I had absolutely no perception of the time ticking a away, and I don't really remember anything else but the pages turning. I wish everyone could have that same experience. I said that it scarred me, but really I was immensely satisfied with myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all my fellow readers out there: Rock on!!!! And to all those who wouldn't be caught dead with a book (why would you be reading this blog), but seriously find a book and lose yourself in it. That's all for now. Rog out! ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-7227228416576384546?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/7227228416576384546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=7227228416576384546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7227228416576384546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7227228416576384546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/books.html' title='Books'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-6937843095887967114</id><published>2009-01-31T22:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T11:55:04.136-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>War</title><content type='html'>My view on war was always that it was people I didn't know killing more people I didn't know. I believe that war is a cruel necessity of humanity. It's very unfortunate that we are what we are, but at our base we're all animals fighting to survive. That's getting off the subject though. The reason I believe that war is inevitable is that overpopulation causes a very old human survival instinct to kick in. Think about it. We've expanded to the point that there aren't anymore places to settle on the earth. But wait you might be saying to yourself, people back in ancient times warred among themselves, and they hadn't settled everywhere. Yes they did, because they felt claustrophobic, and the world that they knew had been settled to the brim. The wars were all over gaining territory so that the masses could expand, and the ones who died in the war just made for more breathing room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we go to war there is always some noble excuse behind it to make us all feel better. No one wants to believe that their son, daughter, siblings, or grandchildren are going to die just so they can live more comfortably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a modern society, we shun our animal side and we also disguise all of the animal things we do with pretty words and sugar. And I think that this sad fact will lead to our eventual, but not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; inevitable downfall. If we do not, as a whole accept and embrace who we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; are, we're all doomed to be wiped from the face of the earth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-6937843095887967114?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/6937843095887967114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=6937843095887967114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6937843095887967114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6937843095887967114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/war.html' title='War'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-5514080895716704488</id><published>2009-01-29T07:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T07:50:46.980-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Ties</title><content type='html'>I never really considered myself very family oriented. I always heard people talking about being a family man/ woman, but quite frankly family was always more of an object to me. They were always there. It's sort of like when you drive somewhere everyday for a couple of years, taking the same route every time until you're so familiar with all the things on the way you could drive it blindfolded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my family, it's just when they're always there they fade into familiarity. Until recently I had what you might call an eye opening. My family and I were driving home from somewhere, when my brother told a joke that made us all burst into thunderous laughter. As I was trying to not pee my pants I realised that my family wasn't just my &lt;em&gt;family, &lt;/em&gt;they had, somewhere along the way, become my friends. It was a weird revelation, because I never thought that my parents, whose job it was to reprimand me when I did something wrong, or to teach me the lessons I needed to know in order to succeed, could ever be my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the same time it was nice to realise that, the reason that we were friends was because they were starting to see us as adults and not just the kids they were meant to raise. Our time in the nest was up so to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My immediate family was no exception either. When I visited my grandparents and cousins one week, I had a fairly long, substantial conversation with my grandpa, who, if I was being honest, always kind of intimidated me. My cousins, who are no older than ten, had become the focus of nurture within my family, and I realised that I was also expected to help shape these two children into adults. My actions were of less focus to everyone, because I was now supposed to be another responsible adult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even as I realised the joy of being considered an adult by other adults, I never thought that I would miss being a kid. No more peaceful ignorance of family issues. No more could I coast off of the "hand that fed me." But all that was overshadowed by the fact that I get to shape these two precious children into the adults I think they can become&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-5514080895716704488?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/5514080895716704488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=5514080895716704488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5514080895716704488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5514080895716704488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/family-ties.html' title='Family Ties'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2837703245361561094</id><published>2009-01-25T18:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T07:12:10.497-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Response to "Dreams"</title><content type='html'>This post is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;response&lt;/span&gt; to another &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;blogger's&lt;/span&gt; post. Check out his sight &lt;a href="http://iowagonzo.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://iowagonzo.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a recurring dream. Every time I sleep out in the living room of my house this dream shows it's ugly face. First in the dream I start out on a ship. My brother is always with me on the ship. We crash into a rocky shore of a hilly island. We walk through the foggy woods for hours and just when my brother stats to complain that it's taking too long for the pancakes to be done (no I'm not making this up), we come upon a house. We run up to the house and knock on the door. As we wait for the people who live there to come to the door, water starts converging on us from the way we came. We panic and take off running down a country lane with corn fields on either side. The water gets higher and higher, and soon, I never know how it happens but the water is over my head. I can see my brother still floating on the surface looking for me. I swim to the top, but every time I'm about to surface the water level rises a foot or two. A couple of times I suck in water. I start to desperately need air. I swim to no avail. As I just am about to take a full breath of water my eyes shoot open and I gasp for air. I learned from my mom who watched me have one of these dreams that I'm really holding my breath. On one occasion when I woke up and threw up all over the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever heard that if you die in your dream you really die? Well I've never died in one of my dreams. I always wake up before the fatal end. And since that time I threw up after waking up I haven't slept in the living room. Have you ever died in one of your dreams? Do you think that you could actually die from a dream? I'm curious to see what you think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2837703245361561094?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2837703245361561094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2837703245361561094' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2837703245361561094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2837703245361561094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/response-to-dreams.html' title='Response to &quot;Dreams&quot;'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-5407708084515488592</id><published>2009-01-25T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T11:55:04.137-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>My View on Euthanasia</title><content type='html'>Until recently my family owned a horse by the name of Yukon. He had white fur and was pretty chunky for a horse, but he was content. He might have been a little lonely at times, but he had a donkey as a neighbor, and the two of them would converse from across the street. My dad always liked to say that our neighbor is an ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well anyways not too long ago we started to have a few problems with Yukon. His condition over the past year and a half had slowly worsened. He started getting sores all over his body, and he had difficulty standing up after he had lain down. In the end of his life he couldn't stand at all. It's a sad state for such a noble animal to be reduced to, and yet here he was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom called the vet to see if he could fix the situation. I knew that the horse wasn't going to live through the night, but being so attached to something can sometimes cloud your sense of reason. I opposed calling the vet, for two reasons. One, I don't really trust them, they take your money for the most mundane things and it makes me sick. Two, I think the idea of letting a stranger kill one of your animals is cruelty in it's most basic form. Think about it, by not doing the "job" yourself, you're admitting to yourself that the animals life had been worthless and that it isn't worth you getting your hands dirty over. In my opinion it is the right thing to, one not let an animal in suffering go on suffering, and two, to look that animal in the eye with confidence, and sadness and show it that it's life had been worth living, before you end it's life. And I'm sure the vet did not do the second one, that costs extra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some would say that it's a sign of ruthlessness to kill an animal, that if one belongs to our higher society they should not participate in the act. But it seems to me that in our attempt to become a more noble or "high" society we have severely failed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turned out I was right. Yukon was put down while I was at show choir practise. It cost my mom $150 to have him killed, and another $500 to have his remains disposed of. Highway robbery is what it is. He was missed and even though I told my mom I didn't want to say goodbye, at two o'clock, when everyone was a sleep I snuck down and payed my respects to the poor animal, whose life, in my mom's opinion, had not meant anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-5407708084515488592?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/5407708084515488592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=5407708084515488592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5407708084515488592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5407708084515488592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/my.html' title='My View on Euthanasia'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-4811947689037903560</id><published>2009-01-25T17:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:58:14.344-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='showchoir'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Grand Champions!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday we had another show choir competition. The day started in the usual way, if not a little later than usual. I woke up and cruised my way to school ready for another exciting day of show choir. When I got to school it wasn't long I had to wait before the bus was loaded and we headed off to the competition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived at the school we had missed the entry level show choir (which had been expected). But we all feigned disappointment at having missed them, and congratulated them (genuinely).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of the late comers went to the cafeteria to fill their grumbling bellies. The breakfast pizza was delicious, and once everyone was content it was time to watch some show choir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the show choirs were really good. And soon, even though I was competing against them, I had picked out my favorite group. People were getting worried that the acoustics of the auditorium were really bad. Personally I thought they were all high on crack. But then again I've never had an ear for that kind of thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it was our time to go, everyone was ready. We basically knew that we were going to make finals, but our director told us that we shouldn't perform to win something. We should do our show for the sole purpose of entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The show was great and we got the first spot coming out of the day awards. But that didn't matter because it was an all new judging panel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just before our finals performance, we got everyone together and talked about how we didn't want to be the group that had the reputation of being good in the day round and sucking at finals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our show went off without a hitch, I messed up once (I would have blamed myself had we lost). But we didn't lose. It was so amazing. When they called our name we screamed, and screamed, and screamed until our throats were hoarse. It was so awesome. It was the perfect ending to everyones day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not even that we won that mattered. We all had fun and agree that if we would have come in second we still would've remembered the competition as one of our favorites.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-4811947689037903560?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/4811947689037903560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=4811947689037903560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/4811947689037903560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/4811947689037903560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/grand-champions.html' title='Grand Champions!'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-4163714952121176169</id><published>2009-01-22T18:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T18:57:18.589-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Science of Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvZMn3EI/AAAAAAAAABs/pdGcOkeyJ4M/s1600-h/Soccer+guy.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294315328214916162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 315px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvZMn3EI/AAAAAAAAABs/pdGcOkeyJ4M/s320/Soccer+guy.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it amazing what we can do now days? There is a museum in Chicago that takes bodies that have been donated to science and rejected for some vague reason and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;turn them&lt;/span&gt; into this. They do it by injecting some kind of liquid plastic into the veins and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;letting&lt;/span&gt; it harden. They then remove all of the tissue that wasn't preserved. In the picture on the left you see a guy who just kicked a soccer ball. They have a huge range of displays. The ones here are just a few, they have pregnant mothers with fetuses at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; stages of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;development&lt;/span&gt;, there are ones with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; diseases that have an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;effect&lt;/span&gt; on physical &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;appearance&lt;/span&gt;. I'm just dumbstruck by the thought of having these things on display. If you think this looks cool you should &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; check into it, and link to this post. Also if you ever get the opportunity to go to one of these &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;museums&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;strong&gt;GO&lt;/strong&gt;! Once I had the choice to go to the one in Chicago bu I decided against it, and I regret that decision to this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvAQS0qI/AAAAAAAAABc/er_lYEBk8-o/s1600-h/Art_BodyWorlds.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294315321519428258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvAQS0qI/AAAAAAAAABc/er_lYEBk8-o/s320/Art_BodyWorlds.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvIchH4I/AAAAAAAAABk/Rken9e6v2-A/s1600-h/bodyworlds1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294315323718180738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvIchH4I/AAAAAAAAABk/Rken9e6v2-A/s320/bodyworlds1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvAQS0qI/AAAAAAAAABc/er_lYEBk8-o/s1600-h/Art_BodyWorlds.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvAQS0qI/AAAAAAAAABc/er_lYEBk8-o/s1600-h/Art_BodyWorlds.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvAQS0qI/AAAAAAAAABc/er_lYEBk8-o/s1600-h/Art_BodyWorlds.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvAQS0qI/AAAAAAAAABc/er_lYEBk8-o/s1600-h/Art_BodyWorlds.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvAQS0qI/AAAAAAAAABc/er_lYEBk8-o/s1600-h/Art_BodyWorlds.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &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/8515876024282559917-4163714952121176169?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/4163714952121176169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=4163714952121176169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/4163714952121176169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/4163714952121176169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/science-of-today.html' title='Science of Today'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SXkvvZMn3EI/AAAAAAAAABs/pdGcOkeyJ4M/s72-c/Soccer+guy.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-470673953619848250</id><published>2009-01-22T18:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T11:55:04.138-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Life Lesson #1</title><content type='html'>Have you ever been sitting somewhere quite and just let your mind wonder through the plains of consciousness with no bounds? I recently had the opportunity to do just that. Laying in my bed I was wondering over various philosophical topics and I landed on one that got my attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised that my dad had lived almost three of my lives in his one life. I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around this fact. How long my life has seemed up until now. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I was triple my age, and for the life of me I couldn't do it. What a horribly fascinating thing to think about. My train of thought was inevitably drawn to the memories of my impatience. How idiotic I must have seemed waiting in line for the movie theater for ten minutes, getting angry because I had to wait. I felt like such an ass for being so naive. I remember my dad trying to teach me this exact lesson and having it go in one ear and right out the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I approached my dad to tell him about my revelation he seemed proud that I had gotten that lesson at such a young age. He told me that he wished he would have realised that at my age. I'm not going to say that I'll never get impatient again, because saying that would just be stupid. But maybe when I'm waiting in that line, or doing something I don't want to do I'll have the ability to step back and look at the situation in this new way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hey this isn't so bad, it's just ten minutes out of my life. It's just a drop in the bucket. After this I'll be doing something that I actually want to. And those are the ones to enjoy and remember.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all the young 'uns, I'm right there with ya. Part of the instant gratification generation. Please though, take this lesson to heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-470673953619848250?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/470673953619848250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=470673953619848250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/470673953619848250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/470673953619848250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/life-lesson-1.html' title='Life Lesson #1'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-7509129347886871699</id><published>2009-01-22T18:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T18:25:27.704-08:00</updated><title type='text'>itouch</title><content type='html'>I recently helped China in advancing their plot to take over of the U.S. I purchased an itouch. The first thing I noticed about the box that it was in was that stamped on the back there was a tiny &lt;em&gt;China&lt;/em&gt; in bold letters. But that's not the point. The point is, it's AMAZING! I never thought I could fall in love with an inanimate object, but I find myself guilty as charged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget that it took almost three hours to sync all of my songs from my computer on to the ipod. There are so many amazing features. As soon as I was on itunes I went to the app store to browse the games they had. Much to my surprise there were a ton of free ones! Who doesn't love free games. Soon everything is going to be free anyway because we'll all owe China enormous debts, and they'll collect by controlling our lives. But not to fear, if you want to join the underground revolution army or URA then just find a way to contact us I can't help you much there. But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways the thing is so addicting. I can't keep my hands off of it no matter how hard I try. That is to be expected though. I'm sure with time the feeling of newness will be replaced by comfortably. So that's my random tangent. Hope you enjoyed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-7509129347886871699?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/7509129347886871699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=7509129347886871699' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7509129347886871699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7509129347886871699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/itouch.html' title='itouch'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-5604134318230539656</id><published>2009-01-22T17:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T08:00:05.365-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='showchoir'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>The Show!</title><content type='html'>We left the vocal warm up with gleaming smiles on our faces. All of us were nervous as hell, but with each step the nervousness was replaced with unimaginable excitement. The walk to the waiting area was an intense blur of clapping and people wishing good luck, we got a few dirty look from the groups that wanted us to suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to the pre-show-run-through-room and the excitement was oozing out of us. Whispers went up and down the line to quite down and listen to the pep talk that was to be given. Standing in a circle we were wished good luck by the instructor, and told to do our show. That nothing else mattered anymore. The only thing left to do was go out and &lt;strong&gt;DO OUR SHOW! &lt;/strong&gt;We broke it down and took our places to carry on our designated items. When we took the stage I was swept by an eiree calm I knew what I had to do and so help me God, I was going to kick ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I hit the final pose, I had nothing left to give. I had spent all of my energy and the show had been amazing. We left the stage feeling awesome, but now we just had to make finals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time until the announcement of day awards was a lot, so we just had time to change and then we had to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the before-award party, an intense air of waiting for the results. That, however, didn't stop people from dancing on the floor to the up-beat music they had blaring on the loud speakers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the MC, after making us wait for at least a half an hour, finally showed up everyone was on the edge of their seat, hanging on his every syllable. He was very elusive when it came to announcing the names of the the finalists. We wouldn't know who won until our instructors told us who won later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He started announcing the names of the finalists in alphabetical order. Everyone in the group silently recited the alphabet to themselves to make sure that we were not being skipped over. When we heard our name called it was ecstasy. We jumped around and cheered as loud as we could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, in the room we found out that that we had gotten first in the day round scores!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finals were amazing. We did even better then we had done in the day round, but alas it wasn't enough. we ended up getting second, losing by only three point! Everyone was super happy with how we did, and our stomachs were already churning in anticipation for the next weeks contest!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-5604134318230539656?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/5604134318230539656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=5604134318230539656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5604134318230539656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5604134318230539656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/show.html' title='The Show!'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-6459963479774028586</id><published>2009-01-22T07:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T08:03:57.796-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='showchoir'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>First Show Choir Contest</title><content type='html'>&lt;span &gt;Last weekend was my show choir's first contest of the season. I'm just writing about it now because I haven't had free time since then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day started out at 7:15 when I woke up before my alarm went off. I was so excited I rushed to get ready so I could leave. In my hurry I almost forgot my brother who was just waking up. I was forced to wait impatiently while he got ready to leave. It was a short drive there, and it was fairly easy to find a parking space right away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got inside you could tell it was going to be a busy day. There was a line at the check in table with at least twenty people in it, and it was even the main door. Feeling a little guilty I by-passed the crowd and went straight to the desk, because it was separate check in for members of the show choirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother, who is in the lower level show choir (they had performed the day before and got grand champion), and I found the homeroom for the day. This room would serve as a meeting place, a place to keep your things safe, and also a hangout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our time in the homeroom was short, he found people he knew and went to the auditorium to watch the freshman show choir of our school. I found some of my friends and we went to the cafeteria for a quick snack before watching the show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The auditorium was fairly packed, and we were all excited for it to start. Twenty minutes the MC came out and announced the start of the contest. He introduced the choir and they took the stage to perform. They were pretty good, after they were done were cheered wholeheartedly, but not too much, because we had to conserve our voices for our show later that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched seven shows before I finally decided to leave and check out the rest of the school. I went to the room to see if anyone was there and found out that they were all in the cafeteria. I found them sitting at a table enjoying some breakfast and I sat down having already eaten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the day went pretty fast, and as our show approached I started to get really nervous. I had watched several good show choirs that day and I felt horribly unprepared for what was coming. The time came to get dressed, and we departed the room with smiles on our faces sreching from ear to ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to put the rest in another post because I really want to focus on all of the details and everything that makes it fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-6459963479774028586?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/6459963479774028586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=6459963479774028586' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6459963479774028586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6459963479774028586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/first-show-choir-contest.html' title='First Show Choir Contest'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-8528206284754499501</id><published>2009-01-14T11:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:46:50.684-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not good'/><title type='text'>Workin' Man</title><content type='html'>We recently in my AP Language class had to write a story about an unfamiliar place. This is the idea that I decided not to write about. I think it might turn out a little flat because I’m not putting it through the extensive revisions that I would a normal essay, so read at your own discression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently got a job at a local restaurant. I love to go there and I get the same thing to eat every time I go there. It wasn’t my first choice in jobs; actually I should say it was almost dead last, right in front of garbage collector. But I had been having terrible luck finding anyone who would hire me so I decided to try it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing I noticed after getting out of my car in the parking lot was the smell. If I could only describe the wonderful mixture of pleasant aromas as the chefs were preparing the supper menu. I was immensely reassured that this would not be such a bad place to work, a thought that was reassured more by the warm greeting I received from the hostess. “What can do for you today?” she asked with a smile on her face stretching ear to ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Umm…,” I said tentatively, “I came to fill out an application.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Excellent,” she said, “we are looking for busers. Is that what you were thinking of doing?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I responded that I didn’t really know what I wanted to do and her face softened. “Granite City is an excellent place to get your first job. I should know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She handed me two packets and explained that one was a standard application, which I told her I had become quite familiar with in the last two weeks. She smiled and told me the second one was a personality test, and that I could take a seat at the bar or in a booth to fill it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked over and took a seat at the bar. The cute blonde bartender walked over and asked if I wanted a pop. I told her that I didn’t. “You sure?” she asked, “Employees get free pop.” This grabbed my attention and I looked up from what I was doing surprised. She gave me a smile and a wink, and told me that they had Pepsi products. Seeing how it was the summer I asked her if she had lemonade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We have regular and raspberry, but might I suggest the raspberry.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her that that sounded great. She went off to get my lemonade, and I started to fill out the application. It was the standard application. It asked for name, address, social security number, and all the other usual information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right as I was starting to do the personality test, the bartender brought my lemonade. “Wow you’re going fast,” she said, “it took me an hour to finish both my application and personality test.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laughed and told her that I had become somewhat of a pro from constantly filling out applications. “Tuff luck huh?” she asked, “Well don’t worry, you seem like a nice kid and we’re really desperate for help these days.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reassured even more by her comment I went back to the application. The questions were really random and sometimes I wondered why I had to do it. One of the questions asked if I would ever bring a weapon to work to settle a score with a co-worker. I thought that it must be a joke, and I started laughing. “You must have gotten to the one about the weapon,” remarked the bartender with a chuckle of her own, “the test is meant to weed out any obvious psychos right off so the managers don’t have to meet them face to face and tell them they don’t fit the bill.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little concerned that I might meet one such psycho compelled me to finish the test quickly and turn it in. Not wanting to be rude I sat and finished my lemonade before I walked up to turn in the test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I handed the hostess the application I thought I was done, but she informed me that I needed to meet with a general manager to set up a primary interview. She got on the phone and in a couple of minutes a cheery lady walked up picked up my application and said, “You must be Robert. It’s very nice to meet you.” I responded in an appropriate way and we sat down to talk about the job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told me that Granite City was a very good place to work. That they treat their employees with due respect, and really made it seem like the noblest job in the world. Then she ran through the basic duties that one does as a buser. All the drudge work she described to me seem somewhat more appealing when she put it the way she did, all buttered up and glorious like there was no better job in the world. At the conclusion she handed me a card with her name on it and on the back was the date of my next interview. Before I turned to leave I saw her slip another business card into her pocket, this one with nothing on the back. I rejoiced in the fact that I had succeeded in getting another interview.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next Tuesday I walked into the restaurant ready to get a job. I told the hostess (a different one) why I was there and she directed me to sit while I waited for the manager who would interview me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The interview was over quickly. The manager asked me some questions told me what would be expected of me, and then offered me the job. I was so excited to finally have gotten a job that I almost ran a red light on my way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day that same manager called me and told me that I had to come to an orientation before I could do my first training shift. So the nest Thursday I went to the restaurant, filled out the paperwork, and was told that my first training shift would be on that Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a little hesitant to walk in the door my first day. It was Saturday and my dad had told me that it would probably be pretty busy. The hostess at the door was the same one that I had seen the first day. Her reassuring smile slowly eased away my apprehension. “Welcome back,” she said, “I knew would get the job, a manager is in the back, and she’ll clock you in.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt weird in my crisp new uniform, and I felt like I shouldn’t be there. On my way back to the kitchen a waitress bumped into me. “Sorry,” I said, even though it had clearly been her fault. She grumbled something that I didn’t hear and continued walking. Not a good first encounter with the staff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I stepped into the kitchen it was like I had stepped into another world completely. People were yelling and hurrying around completely oblivious of me but seeming to be in perfect sync with one another. I found a manager giving a server quick instructions before sending her on her way. She looked at me, smiled and said, “Come with me.” She told me what my number would be to clock in and who would be training me that night. She did all of this while walking backwards and amazingly staying out of peoples way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We located the buser that would be training me, and after quick introductions it was time to work. We walked around the restaurant, he told me the table numbers, and showed me all of the things that I was required to do. As I followed him around I noticed how fluidly he moved among the crowd, not once getting in the way of one guest while I bumped into several in my attempt to follow. I was as out of my element as I had ever been before and believe me the feeling wasn’t pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every one was a part of a well oiled, perfectly synchronized machine, and I was a loose bolt that had fallen in and was causing havoc to the operation of the machine. The kitchen was the worst. Every time I went back there with a dirty dish, it seemed like there were thousands of people, and I was expected to stay out of there way and still do my job at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This continued for the next hour or so and I found more and more that I was becoming part of the machine. No longer was I a hindrance, I was a contributing part of the system. Just as I thought I was really getting the hang of it a manager came over and told me that it was time for me to leave. I clocked out and I was walking to my car ready to go to bed, and when I woke up I’d be back to do it all again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back after writing this I wish I would have spent more time focusing on the actual working part of the essay, because that what I wanted it to be about. But in the end it ended up just being about the process of getting a job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-8528206284754499501?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/8528206284754499501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=8528206284754499501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/8528206284754499501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/8528206284754499501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2009/01/workin-man.html' title='Workin&apos; Man'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-7701124650707551647</id><published>2008-12-26T07:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T11:56:06.524-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><title type='text'>TV</title><content type='html'>People love their TVs. It's ridiculous. We build shrines to them in our living rooms, we have family meals around them, and we even have the nerve to call watching TV, a "family bonding experience." I want all of the TVs to spontaneously explode. It would probably send our nation into chaos, but who cares it would fix our problem. Wait no it wouldn't because they would just make more. Okay so the "TV making factories" can explode too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stuff on TV isn't even good half the time anyways. It's all filth designed to make us soft and unresponsive so China can take over, but seriously something needs to change because our future is looking very bleak indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nation I'm begging you, get off your asses and do something. You want to know why you're fat? You can blame it on you "genes" all you want, but if you really want to know I'll tell you. It's because you are a lazy couch potato, and you sit on your fat ass all day and do nothing. Good day sir!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-7701124650707551647?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/7701124650707551647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=7701124650707551647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7701124650707551647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7701124650707551647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/tv.html' title='TV'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-5460677988541542020</id><published>2008-12-26T06:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T07:09:12.973-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Gifts</title><content type='html'>I always feel bad accepting gifts from people, I mean these people worked for this thing that they're giving me, and something tells me they'd much rather keep it. Also I think that getting presents is a lame way to replace a religious holiday. You're supposed to give the gift of love, but now people have money and love comes in the form of a flat screen TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I feel like this because growing up I never got a lot of gifts, I never went without, but it was just not a top priority in my family. I grew to understand that, but as a kid it doesn't matter when you go back to school and everyone has all these presents they got. I guess I kind of grew bitter towards Christmas, I grew to resent it, and now I get sick when people talk about getting things for Christmas. If I didn't get one thing for Christmas I would be perfectly content. You would naturally think I was lying, but that's because you like Christmas, you are one who thinks Christmas is getting gifts, and your opinion means nothing to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could skip over Christmas every year I probably would. Everything would be normal, December 24&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; would come and the next day it'd be December 26&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;. To those of you who say it's about family, I really don't agree with you either, because to me family represents the present givers. I want our nation to go through a huge reform where we ditch the superficial stuff and go back to chivalry. Is that so much to ask?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-5460677988541542020?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/5460677988541542020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=5460677988541542020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5460677988541542020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5460677988541542020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/getting-gifts.html' title='Getting Gifts'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-8759540036543037959</id><published>2008-12-26T06:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T06:54:38.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tis The Season</title><content type='html'>It seems like every time this cluster of holidays rolls around, there's always some group or another complaining. Whether it's that they think it's unfair that one holiday should get all the air time, or that a certain meaning of a holiday has been missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To those that say their holiday is always forgotten, I say, yes it probably is you live in a predominately Christian society. I'm sure you or whoever brought your family to America knew this, but they didn't say, oh no we can't go there they celebrate Christmas. I also say you should lighten up, because it's the holidays, go see your family have fun before the United States get taken over by China and you really won't be able to celebrate said holiday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to those that say the meaning of their holiday has been forgotten, I would completely agree with you. All the people in our society want is to sell stuff and get rich, or to get free things free things, so the holiday your fighting for is the result of this. I sympathize with you, but I'm afraid we won't see a change in our lifetimes, which is disapointing. They've all been mindwashed by China so they buy things and pretty soon China is just going to walk right in and take over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;China, I don't mean to offend, and if you were affended lighten up!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-8759540036543037959?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/8759540036543037959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=8759540036543037959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/8759540036543037959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/8759540036543037959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/tis-season.html' title='Tis The Season'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-114743309779508165</id><published>2008-12-21T19:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T11:55:04.138-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Random Humor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8NUMUOKhI/AAAAAAAAABU/gCX7rDyDQsg/s1600-h/hair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282455528483465746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8NUMUOKhI/AAAAAAAAABU/gCX7rDyDQsg/s320/hair.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So people know why he's walking away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8NUAhtk2I/AAAAAAAAABM/DltXI5N5uQo/s1600-h/strapped+grounhog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282455525318824802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 251px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8NUAhtk2I/AAAAAAAAABM/DltXI5N5uQo/s320/strapped+grounhog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The new war plan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8NUCzvs3I/AAAAAAAAABE/cUi_kdZxcTo/s1600-h/squirel+jedi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282455525931332466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8NUCzvs3I/AAAAAAAAABE/cUi_kdZxcTo/s320/squirel+jedi.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Mace Windu was reincarnated into a squirrel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8MNIwsZrI/AAAAAAAAAA8/B-6zqlPbgWg/s1600-h/funny+baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282454307758433970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8MNIwsZrI/AAAAAAAAAA8/B-6zqlPbgWg/s320/funny+baby.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Why babies don't endorse Taco Bell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8MM8BpRbI/AAAAAAAAAAs/fkINuUR-x78/s1600-h/bull+fight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282454304339871154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8MM8BpRbI/AAAAAAAAAAs/fkINuUR-x78/s320/bull+fight.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bulls are taking a head stand on bull fights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8MMz3mV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/cm-TzrJi784/s1600-h/bananas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282454302150252514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8MMz3mV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/cm-TzrJi784/s320/bananas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only in America My friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282454303561377522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8MM5ICZvI/AAAAAAAAAAc/_Wi1Mg1GAuA/s320/Baby+piss.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babies for Barack Obama. Piss on the status quo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8MNNB7lAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/MZrDiFmbCDI/s1600-h/funny-cat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282454308904473602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8MNNB7lAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/MZrDiFmbCDI/s320/funny-cat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are Sparta!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/8515876024282559917-114743309779508165?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/114743309779508165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=114743309779508165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/114743309779508165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/114743309779508165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/random-humor.html' title='Random Humor'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SU8NUMUOKhI/AAAAAAAAABU/gCX7rDyDQsg/s72-c/hair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2692099779138189190</id><published>2008-12-18T17:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T08:00:55.204-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='showchoir'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>What Fix You Means to Me</title><content type='html'>We are singing a song in my show choir class called &lt;em&gt;Fix You.&lt;/em&gt; We got an assignment to write a story about what the ballad means to us, and I just want to share it with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was six or seven years old I had a dog named Babe. Babe was a golden retriever, and she was my world. I loved that dog so much. But then she got sick. She ruptured two disks in her back, and was diagnosed with some disease I can’t recall. She &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt; walk, and she was getting worse every day. At this point in my life I was not quite familiar with death, and this was a very hard way to learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She spent several weeks in the pet hospital, and as a kid I thought the doctors would just fix her up and I would have my dog back. Then one day my dad walked in the door, and I asked him, as usual, if Babe was coming home soon. He gave me a look of profound sorrow and said, “I told them to end her suffering today.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t understand, “So she’s alright?” I asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My took me into my bed room and sat me down, looked into my eyes and said to me, “Robert, Babe &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;isn&lt;/span&gt;’t coming home, she’s dead.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My world no longer existed. She was gone. I sat there for the rest of the night until I fell asleep crying for my dog. I think I knew deep down that she was going to die, but I kept telling myself she would be alright. I wish I would have spent more time with her in the end, because I know it would have made her feel better to die with a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m going to sing this song to myself back then, as an innocent child that was thrown into a situation that required a level of maturity far exceeding his own, and also to my dog Babe who I thought would be alive forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2692099779138189190?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2692099779138189190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2692099779138189190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2692099779138189190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2692099779138189190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-fix-you-means-to-me.html' title='What Fix You Means to Me'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-1253913149117446212</id><published>2008-12-17T07:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:47:37.540-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Prison For Young People</title><content type='html'>Do they think we're stupid? School is garbage! If I could pursue education with out the school environment, I would in a heart beat. I love learning, and I'm a very good student, but even I agree with most delinquents that the institution of school is just a prison.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that they have to teach us to become adults, but adults don't get detention for laser pointer!!!!! I'm sorry that I was messing around &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;with&lt;/span&gt; the damn thing. They told me that I could shine it in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;some one's&lt;/span&gt; eye, but I made it a point not to do that. Then after I told them that, they said I should have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;cooperated&lt;/span&gt; better with them, which I did!!!!!!! I never once lied to them, I answered all of their questions &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt; after asked, and I told them who had the laser pointer right off the bat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I just don't understand. Is there job to: A) Teach me how to be an adult, B) Piss me off, C) Punish me for the littlest things, or D) Both B and C? I'll give you a hint, IT'S &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;DDDDDDDDDDD&lt;/span&gt;!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's almost as if they've forgotten what they got into teaching to do, which I bet wasn't to punish kids. I get that some odd &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;number&lt;/span&gt; of years makes them bitter, but come on have a heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-1253913149117446212?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/1253913149117446212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=1253913149117446212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1253913149117446212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1253913149117446212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/prison-for-young-people.html' title='Prison For Young People'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-239385100209807341</id><published>2008-12-17T07:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T11:55:04.139-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>The Fatal Disease</title><content type='html'>Life is the best and the worst disease we all have, and nobody makes it out alive. You spent your whole life slowly but surely proceeding to your death. You don't think of it every waking moment of the day, nor should you. If you spend your whole life thinking of your death you miss out on all of the things that make life what it is. I recently had two great aunts pass away. I didn't know them really well, and I was only affected by their death by the fact that my parents went to the funeral without me. It did however get me thinking about life and death. I wondered if they had both lived full lives full of all the wonderful and terrible experiences that coincide with one another.After the funerals my dad said that he was going to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;miss&lt;/span&gt; them both a lot. I knew then that anyone who could leave just one person behind that would miss them then they had lived a life worth living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all of the new medicine and things that help you live longer that the people on TV talk about, people think they'll live forever. Really they're just delaying the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;inevitable&lt;/span&gt;. And even if you could live forever, why would you want to? Do they want to be a broken pod of a person laying in bed with a tube shoved down there nose forever? Because that my friends is not living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fatal, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;incurable&lt;/span&gt; disease, is not such a bad thing, it's life. And those who have experienced it to its fullest will tell you that it's worth every second.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-239385100209807341?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/239385100209807341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=239385100209807341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/239385100209807341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/239385100209807341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/fatal-disease.html' title='The Fatal Disease'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-1074113643244296728</id><published>2008-12-08T15:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T11:56:06.525-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whitetails'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muckraking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunting'/><title type='text'>Messy Busniess</title><content type='html'>Ten deer total. We took them to the meat locker today to be prossesed. On the way there farmers would honk at us to congratulate us on killing some "damn corn eaters" as they know them. When we stop at a gas station and one guy commented that we, &lt;br /&gt;"shoulda just kept shooting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to the locker and there were tons of people there with their share of the harvest. None of them had as many as we did, the one only one who came closest was a guy who had six. People walked up to our truck and would ask, "How many ya got in there? Five, six?" and we'd reply, "Nope, we got ten of em," and they'd walk away with their tails tucked saftly between their legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pulled around back to drop the deer off to the sturdy men manning the sharp blades and hack saws. One guy would pull a deer off the truck, then another would make two presise cuts and the head would forever be detached from it's owner. Meanwhil the guy witht the hack saw would take all four legs off in about eight seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole process took only fifteen minutes, and by the time they were done, everyone had blood on their hands, and there were ten headless, legless deer on the ground waiting to be drug inside. That was the end of that, and behind us there were ten trucks in line. These guy were gonna have a long day. We wished them good luck and we were on our way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-1074113643244296728?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/1074113643244296728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=1074113643244296728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1074113643244296728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1074113643244296728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/messy-busniess.html' title='Messy Busniess'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2979673711559320620</id><published>2008-12-07T10:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:46:01.826-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whitetails'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunting'/><title type='text'>Got Another One</title><content type='html'>It was four degrees this morning. Luckily it wasn't windy, because I would have frozen right to my bones. Anyways, I was sitting up in a tree stand to start the morning, looking out over my domain. It was just getting light and the cows were bellowing their goodbyes as they left for market.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was getting really cold and I was ready to get up, so I did. There were some deer that I had seen up in the woods above me, and no one was shooting so I thought I'd start driving them in. I started walking, and as soon as I got to the edge of the woods, a bunch of deer stood up and started running in. I kept walking and pretty soon the woods sounded like a war zone. Shots going off all around me, I was ducking trying not to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the chaos was over I stood up and looked up the hill and two bucks,A four point, and an eight point appeared from the other side. They saw me but they didn't seem too concerned I was there, their mistake. They trotted down the hill and when they reappeared on the other side I popped off a shot. They jogged a little farther, but he wasn't hit. I shot again and he lurched and took off. I shot a shot after him and he was gone. My uncle was standing up on top of the hill so I went up there to help him. At this point I thought I had missed the deer I shot at, but I resolved to look for blood when I was done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched my uncle clean his deer. When he was done we walked up the hill and found another blood trail so we follow it, and followed it, and followed it. Finally we just turned around and came back. As we crossed the fence we saw another person from our group cleaning a deer. We walked up and asked him if it was his and he said he had just found it. It was the one I had shot, and we followed the blood trail back to the place I had shot it at. Sweet! An old but nice seven pointer. All in all it was a very good year for hunting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2979673711559320620?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2979673711559320620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2979673711559320620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2979673711559320620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2979673711559320620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/got-another-one.html' title='Got Another One'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-9215371367321940844</id><published>2008-12-06T16:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:45:26.917-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whitetails'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunting'/><title type='text'>Got One!!!</title><content type='html'>Sitting by the oven late Friday night, listing to my dad and uncle reminisce about past hunting experiences, got me excited to go out and get a story of my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My alarm went off at five thirty in the morning and that was all the encouragement I needed to get out of bed and get dressed. At six o'clock the other people from our group arrived ready to set out. We started walking towards our respective spots breaking off as we we got to our various exits. When I got to the spot I would be in for the next four hours I cleared some snow off the ground and settled in for a long, chilly morning. Shortly after sunrise I was "resting my eyes" for a second. I opened my eyes slowly and saw a doe running across the hill in front of me. I raised my gun but too late she was already behind dome thick brush. I saw her wandering around behind the a fallen tree and it pissed me off to be so close and not be able to shoot. I got to shoot soon enough though, she trotted up the hill and I thought she was gone for good. Ten minutes later she was back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She came walking down the hill, and this time I was ready. With my gun raised I waited for her to come closer. When she got to where she could smell me, she stopped and looked around. It was now or never. I shot, I missed, she ran twenty yards, I shot again, I missed again, she ran away to live another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my defense it was an awkward shot, but all excuses aside, I just choked. The rest of the morning I saw several more deer. I saw a total of twelve does and four bucks in that span of four hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After awhile my uncle walked over and told me that my grandpa had shot a deer and to come with him to see it and help him with the deer that he shot, all THREE OF THEM!!! So we went and found his first deer, cleaned it, and drug it up the hill. Then we went and found his second deer, a doe and I volunteered to clean it. My first time cleaning a deer, and I figured I'd get some practice for when I shot mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we got the third one we walked back to the house to eat some breakfast. after that I decide to walk through the woods to get to my spot. When a was almost to my destination a doe trotted up over the hill. I froze. I swung my gun up and she bolted. I fired the first shot, and missed. She made it halfway down the hill and I fired again. She dropped. Hell Yea!!! I walked down to get her, but she was still alive so I put a bullet in her brain. She wasn't alive anymore. I cleaned her, man was I glad I had practiced earlier that morning, dragged her up the hill, and that was that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AWESOME!!! More tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-9215371367321940844?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/9215371367321940844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=9215371367321940844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/9215371367321940844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/9215371367321940844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/got-one.html' title='Got One!!!'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-4664381347972399919</id><published>2008-12-03T07:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:56:29.966-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MC Hammer'/><title type='text'>Watch This!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DcNUx0-XEfw&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DcNUx0-XEfw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-4664381347972399919?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/4664381347972399919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=4664381347972399919' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/4664381347972399919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/4664381347972399919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/12/watch-this.html' title='Watch This!!!'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-6742220318631668118</id><published>2008-11-12T17:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:52:54.996-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='turkeys'/><title type='text'>Turkeys! Everywhere!</title><content type='html'>My brother told me an interesting story the other day, which is a welcome change from the boring, uninteresting, dull stories he usually tells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was at home in the morning before going to school. He was getting ready down stairs when my dad yelled at him to come upstairs and fast. Standing in the front yard were a dozen turkeys, all toms, in full strut. He said he ran downstairs to get his turkey call as fast as he could, and by the time he got upstairs the turkeys were already all the way down the street. Not to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;deterred&lt;/span&gt; by distance he called out to the toms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as the sound reached the toms their heads snapped up. They ran down the street towards the house as fast as they could. when they got to the front yard they were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;strutting&lt;/span&gt; around in full fervor, pecking, and scratching at each other. when they realized there were no hens to be found, they walked around to the back yard, thinking the females were back there. They were in the back yard doing the same thing when my dog casually walked out of her dog house and spotted the birds. She stood there stiff as a board examining the turkeys. She finally decided they didn't deserve to be there. She erupted into a fit of barking, and the turkeys took off into the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing like an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;encounter&lt;/span&gt; with some turkeys to get you pumped for hunting season!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-6742220318631668118?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/6742220318631668118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=6742220318631668118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6742220318631668118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6742220318631668118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/11/turkeys-everywhere.html' title='Turkeys! Everywhere!'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-389198635467165231</id><published>2008-11-12T16:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:54:04.986-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>End or Term</title><content type='html'>Being in a high school that runs on the trimester system, the end of the term is fast approaching. This means: make up work, last minute additions to our banks of knowledge, and lastly it means FINAL EXAMS!@&amp;amp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People are always so stressed around this time of year, usually I'm in this group of people, but not this year. I've never felt more ready to take my finals then I do at this moment, whether this is a good thing or a bad thing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;idk&lt;/span&gt; but I'm going to lean towards the good. I have four finals that I have to take this term: Algebra 2, Spanish, U.S. History, and Chemistry. I know, I know the typical high school courses, but this is my life, typical high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I notice that people get very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pissy&lt;/span&gt; when they're stressed, and that in turn gets me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;agitated&lt;/span&gt;. So finals might not be a worry on my mind but to the passive observer, I bet it sure looks like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-389198635467165231?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/389198635467165231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=389198635467165231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/389198635467165231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/389198635467165231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/11/end-or-term.html' title='End or Term'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-6003400714832183915</id><published>2008-11-12T15:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T08:00:55.204-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='showchoir'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Show Choir</title><content type='html'>I'm in the varsity show choir at my school, and last night was our premier concert. The order that the choirs perform is: freshman group, then the junior varsity or prep group, and finally us/the varsity show choir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Months of intense practices from 6:30 until 9:00 every Monday, and the occasional camp days from 3:00 until 9:00 have prepared the group for this night. The moves have been pounded into our brains twice over and those who thought they were unready to perform were pleasantly surprised to find that they could do all the moves with expert precision. We have cleaned the choreography so that no a single person's arm is off a tenth of a degree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the freshman choir took the stage it was the usual. Some kids (mostly the girls) were smiling and looking confident in themselves. The others though looked very scared to be there (your first concert tends to do that to you). After a prolonged session of applause to give encouragement the band started. The scared looks on the faces were no more, the kids were now as excited to be there as I was. Their show went off with only a few mess ups in choreography, but then that's to be expected.As they were bowing the JV choir &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;shuffled&lt;/span&gt; out of the auditorium and into the hallway to congratulate the young '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;uns&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; on their way out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they took the stage their director came out to introduce them, and tell us what a wonderful talented group he had this year (the usually premiere concert speech). Then it was time for the show to start. They were very good, and I enjoyed watching them very much. You could really tell the difference in age between the two groups. Between the singing and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;difficulty&lt;/span&gt; of choreography the gap was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;immense&lt;/span&gt;. As I watched their performance I began to get anxious for our turn. I was so excited to get up on stage that their show seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. It was our turn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing outside of the green room as they walked off stage we cheered and hollered the names of our favorite members to let them know they did a good job, but everyone was already focused and ready to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing on stage in front of a thousand people is an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;extraordinary&lt;/span&gt; feeling, and it never ceases to amaze me at the profound sense of pride that you get standing up their knowing that you worked hard to be up here and you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; deserve &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;being&lt;/span&gt; there. The song started a chill ran through my whole body as adrenaline coursed though my veins. I turned around to face the audience with a huge smile on my face, and so very excited that it was finally our turn. The show was over too quickly (we only had three songs, but still). Thunderous applause slapped into you as the miniature sonic boom expanded outwards. It's going to be a great year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-6003400714832183915?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/6003400714832183915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=6003400714832183915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6003400714832183915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6003400714832183915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/11/show-choir.html' title='Show Choir'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-3800997059677959947</id><published>2008-11-02T10:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T10:14:36.930-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Working</title><content type='html'>When I was younger I used to watch my parents leave for work every morning while I was stuck at home waiting for the bus to arrive to take me to the prison that was school. But my views have changed over the years. School gradually became less of a prison and more of a place that could make me like mommy and daddy. And now school isn't a place that can make me like mom and dad, it's a place that can make me better than mom and dad. You know how it is, when you're younger your world revolves around your parents and that seems to be the best thing that you can achieve in your life. But as you get older and your parents begin to involve you in the politics of family life, you see maybe the perfect world i thought I lived in isn't so perfect anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually pressure from my parents led me to get a job and to stop "mooching" as they put it. I still had a little of that "get to be like mom and dad" mentality at first. Work drug on and on and on. The pay was good but doing the same thing over and over just gets downright boring. It really put it into a different perspective for me. Working isn't fun or else it wouldn't be called work. So now school for me is the place that will help me to become better than mom and dad so that I won't have to work my whole life just to get by. I'm determined to have a more successful life than anyone in my family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-3800997059677959947?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/3800997059677959947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=3800997059677959947' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3800997059677959947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3800997059677959947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/11/working.html' title='Working'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-220193706210688290</id><published>2008-11-02T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T08:04:48.785-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><title type='text'>Ice Fishing</title><content type='html'>My brother and I love to fish. We fish all spring and summer long, but when winter gets here we have to wait in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;boredom&lt;/span&gt; until spring brings the new fishing season. But not this year, no sir, this year we're going ice fishing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To go ice fishing requires a different fishing pole then the one you use in the spring and summer. Since you're only sitting a foot from the hole, you need a short but sturdy pole. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Fortunately&lt;/span&gt; they make poles just for this purpose. My brother and I are both buying new poles soon so that we can experience all that ice fishing has to offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A person we know is letting us borrow his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;auger and tent so that we don't have to purchase these items. We plan on going to the same lake where I caught my &lt;a href="http://huntingfishingandmore.blogspot.com/2008/10/monster-bass.html"&gt;monster bass&lt;/a&gt;. You should see how excited he is about going he's been bouncing off the walls and annoying the hell out of my mom and dad. It's pretty fun to watch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure ther will be a post telling about the trip soon after it happens so stay tuned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-220193706210688290?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/220193706210688290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=220193706210688290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/220193706210688290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/220193706210688290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/11/ice-fishing.html' title='Ice Fishing'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-1617606017655514881</id><published>2008-11-02T09:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T08:04:48.785-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><title type='text'>Hunting Season</title><content type='html'>November is here, which means hunting season is just around the corner, and thinking about hunting always gets me pumped up. The men in my family have a tradition, every year we all go hunting the first weekend in December down on land that is collectively owned by my whole family. My brother and I usually just tag along, but don't ever get to hunt. Last year was the first year I got to go hunting with the other guys. It was an exciting time for me. Sure I had been hunting before, but always with my dad right there with me. This time it was just going to be me and the wilderness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather was nasty, the forecast called for freezing rain all weekend, not looking good for our hunt. The roads were covered in ice and nearly impassable. But a little weather wasn't going to get in the way of us and our prize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday morning we all set out towards our respective spots, guns in hand and ready to shoot a deer. When I got to were I would be hunting I broke off from the rest of the group and settled in to watch the sun rise. It was already raining and the blanket of snow on the ground had a thin layer of ice over it. I thought that when the sun rose it would warm up the ground and the ice would just simply melt and stop causing me extreme discomfort in my hind end. No such luck, the sun rose behind a shroud of clouds that morning, it was going to be a long day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a half an hour after the sun rose I was locked in place. The outer layer of clothes I was wearing had totally frozen in place. I could move, but I was in a comfortable position and relatively warm for being a living ice sickle. Over the course of the morning the ice got thicker and thicker until by the time I was ready to walk back to the house I had to hammer through the ice to free myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day despite the weather man's prediction of more freezing rain, it was a beautiful day for hunting, and even though I didn't shoot a deer I now have a good story to tell my kids someday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-1617606017655514881?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/1617606017655514881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=1617606017655514881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1617606017655514881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/1617606017655514881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/11/hunting-season.html' title='Hunting Season'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-5119868631772040573</id><published>2008-10-26T15:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T11:56:36.567-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Opinions</title><content type='html'>My dad always says: "Opinions are like a-holes, everyone has one." I just want to revise this quote a little. Opinions are like a-holes, everyone has one and you don't have to know how it works to use yours. It's one of my biggest pet peeves. People who spit out opinions and support them with bogus evidence. I've heard people back opinions with stupid evidence that I could just as easily turn around on them and make them look stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part is it's not just regular people who do it. Journalists who write opinion columns piss me off. Sure some of them are knowledgeable, but not all of them are. I read an article this week where the writer said that computers were originally meant to replace paper but since our nation is so wasteful our country's paper consumption has doubled since computers were introduced. But then I saw a study that was published that said how paper was such an essential part of the modern work place, and that instead of replacing paper computers must coexist with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just goes to show even proffesionals have stupid opinions sometimes. Do me and the world a favor everyone, keep your opinions to yorself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-5119868631772040573?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/5119868631772040573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=5119868631772040573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5119868631772040573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/5119868631772040573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/10/opinions.html' title='Opinions'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-777448698274776579</id><published>2008-10-26T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T14:12:39.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SNL Last Night</title><content type='html'>SNL has come a long way since the days of Will Ferrell or even since Jimmy Fallon, and not in a good way. Saturday night in my family used to consist of everyone dropping what they're doing and sitting down to watch SNL. But as the seasons progressed and the actors started to change, the writers changed, and I don't know there were a lot of contributing factors, but the show just lost its momentum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I was watching, and it was the skit about Barack, and Michel Obama and their late night TV special. I bring it up because it was the only skit that made me laugh. It was funny, but it just wasn't that old time laying on the floor in stitches after one of the Spartan cheerleader skits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coldplay was the musical guest last night. I just want to say that Saturday Night Live used to be a place were new bands could showcase their talent. I liked to watch and see the bands that no body knew about, some were good, some were bad but I enjoyed the experience all the same. Coldplay was good for the two songs they played, I really wanted to hear them play Fix You but I'll live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways I guess my point about this is that SNL needs to get their act together or else they will lose their fan base and they'll all be out of a job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry if  you disagree it's my opinion and I'm entitled to it. Peace out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-777448698274776579?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/777448698274776579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=777448698274776579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/777448698274776579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/777448698274776579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/10/snl-last-night.html' title='SNL Last Night'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-6747047782858588614</id><published>2008-10-25T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:50:05.461-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='education'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Taking the ACT's</title><content type='html'>Now I know it isn't outdoorsy but taking the ACT's was a pretty big deal for me. I got there this morning promptly at eight o'clock with my five pencils, my TI-83 calculator, and my admission ticket. Normally I would be super nervous at this point, but last night I worked for four hours, and only got six hours of sleep. I was not in the mood to be there. I knew that if I got a good score on the test it could insure my admission in to the college of my choice. but for the life of me I just could not shake the crabby mood I was in. They came down the stairs to collect us and take us to our designated testing rooms. All I could think was, "Oh great, a royal waste of my life." When I got into the room and sat down I immediately felt better, that's all I need was to get off my feet. I was ready to take the single most important test of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall I think that I did pretty good on the test. There were a few questions that I struggled on but the test is meant to make you struggle a little. I'm cautiously optimistic about my results. I can't wait to see what I got on it. College here I come!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-6747047782858588614?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/6747047782858588614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=6747047782858588614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6747047782858588614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6747047782858588614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/10/taking-acts.html' title='Taking the ACT&apos;s'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-6005189799433978117</id><published>2008-10-19T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:44:18.397-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fishing'/><title type='text'>One Right After Another</title><content type='html'>About a week after I caught my big &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt;' bass I went to the same lake but clear on the other side. I was at the spillway. The spillway consist of three main water falls. It starts off flat with grass and various weeds growing and channeling the water to the waterfalls. Then the water takes a dive off the side of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;relatively&lt;/span&gt; small cliff about 30 feet. I was all by myself (I don't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;recommend&lt;/span&gt; going hunting or fishing by yourself EVER!!! Use the buddy system) and i was on the middle island with the two waterfalls crashing down on either side of me. I set up shop and got to fishing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it wasn't long until these two people that were fishing on the other side of the barrier reeled in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;largemouth&lt;/span&gt;. It was about the right time for them to start &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;biting&lt;/span&gt;. So anyways they fumbled with the fish for a few minutes before they give up. I hear one of them call me over so I grabbed my pliers and skirted the waterfall in no time. When I got to the other side I took one look at the bass, grabbed the hook with my pliers and yanked that bad boy out. Followed by the words of gratitude from my fellow fisher men I climbed back across the falls. I don't know if it was good karma or what but not five minutes after I had helped &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;those&lt;/span&gt; two I reeled in a 13 inch &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;largemouth&lt;/span&gt; of my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the course of the next 30 minute I nailed 25 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;largemouth&lt;/span&gt; bass, ranging in size from 10- 15 inches. Even though i didn't keep any of them I had an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;immense&lt;/span&gt; amount of fun on this particular trip, and now the spillway is my go to spot for all of my fishing pleasures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;cya&lt;/span&gt;!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-6005189799433978117?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/6005189799433978117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=6005189799433978117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6005189799433978117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/6005189799433978117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/10/one-right-after-another.html' title='One Right After Another'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-2537982988583587382</id><published>2008-10-19T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:42:58.647-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fishing'/><title type='text'>Monster Bass!</title><content type='html'>Late July. My brother and I are fishing with one of his friends at another lake in the area. We started out the day on the south shore of the lake by a small causeway. We were all out on the end of a jetty fishing for bass. We would catch small bass, maybe six to nine inches, at irregular intervals. After a while of this we decided to move to another spot across the highway. So we drove over to our new spot across the lake. We climbed out of the car and the first thing we saw was a big sign with four pictures on it, and a heading that read: Fish in This Area. The sign told us that we could catch bluegills, crappies, bass, and channel catfish. We set up shop on a nearby bench and started fishing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all were using worms and bobbers and we were catching bluegills left and right. It was a lot of fun, but one can only catch so many bluegills before it's time to find another quarry, and I bet we had already caught 100 bluegills. Time to move on. After we packed up the car, we drove to a dock on the north shore of the lake. There were already some people on the dock so we walked a little ways up the shore and started casting off the rocks. An hour later we moved to the other side of the small bay to a small ledge with a log in the water five feet below. We all voiced our feelings that this was the right spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We caught several medium sized bass over the next several hours, and my brother continued to reel in bluegills from under the dead log in the water. Then, as I was reeling in something jerked on my line. I had a lot of snags that day and I was cautiously optimistic that this was more then a snag. The drag on my reel was going out like crazy. Just when i was about to call it a snag and give up the surface of the water ten feet in front of me erupted. A monster bass as on my line and he was fighting with all of his strength. As soon as he hit the water again he took off towards the log. "He's going to get under the log," yelled my brother's friend. He jumped into the water up to his knees and grabbed onto my line. Pulling the bass into the shallows was no easy task, it was thrashing and fighting the whole way. Finally the bass was on shore. We measured the bass, 23 inches!!! Alright but now to keep it alive long enough to get it home. My car was all the way on the other side of the bay. Bass in hand I took off down the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got to my car i popped the trunk and grabbed the cooler. There were still bottles of water and cans of pop in it, but sacrifices had to be made. I pulled all of the stuff out of the cooler, leaving the ice, I put the bass it it and emptied the rest of our water into the cooler. I drove over to where they were waiting, and we filled the cooler the rest of the way with lake water. I called anyone who I thought would know what to do. Everyone told me I had to keep it alive as long as i could. After getting the same advice from two different sources we decided to go into town and buy some ice to put on the fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting ice we had to take my brother's friend home. His mom took so many pictures that I lost count of time. Finally we got home where my mom was waiting to take my picture some more. Following the advice of the people I talked to I wrapped the fish in a wet towel and put it into my freezer where it will sit until i get enough money to get it mounted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That fishing trip was the highlight of my summer. I had so much fun. Fisher man for life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-2537982988583587382?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/2537982988583587382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=2537982988583587382' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2537982988583587382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/2537982988583587382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/10/monster-bass.html' title='Monster Bass!'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-7426589592929288758</id><published>2008-10-18T21:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T07:36:51.380-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fishing'/><title type='text'>First Fishing Trip of The Summer</title><content type='html'>It was early July. My brother and I were just leaving Wal-Mart with our new lures. We had plans to go fishing in an hour with our friend who was to meet us at the lake. When we arrived he was waiting for us on the short boat dock that protruded ten feet into the water. I walked out onto the dock and what I saw was not encouraging. The water around the dock was nothing but weeds in every direction. No problem. I just tied on my top water scum frog and gave it a big heave. It landed with a faint plop about 20 yards away. I reeled it in with no results. My brother and friend had similar results. We continued this procedure for the next hour and nothing to show for it. We were growing more and more disappointed by the minute. Finally we decided to call it a day and head out. We packed the car up with our gear and left the lake the same as we had found it, full of tricky little fish. No matter a real fisher man is a fisher man for life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-7426589592929288758?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/7426589592929288758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=7426589592929288758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7426589592929288758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/7426589592929288758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/10/first-fishing-trip-of-summer.html' title='First Fishing Trip of The Summer'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515876024282559917.post-3672119266290232764</id><published>2008-10-01T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T19:24:20.192-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Post</title><content type='html'>I wouldn't call myself an avid hunter/fisher, for that you need to talk to my brother. For me hunting and fishing is just a hobby not a way of life. So this blog is me telling the stories of my hunting and fishing excursions. I don't fish every day of the, or even every weekend but when I do you bet I'll have a lot to write about. In the spaces between my adventures I will be exploring a couple of other subjects. So stay tuned bloggers!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8515876024282559917-3672119266290232764?l=lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/feeds/3672119266290232764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8515876024282559917&amp;postID=3672119266290232764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3672119266290232764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8515876024282559917/posts/default/3672119266290232764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeoutsidethewomb.blogspot.com/2008/10/first-post.html' title='First Post'/><author><name>Rog</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18034076588289887733</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eRMRltI4a2k/SfmzvIqjOMI/AAAAAAAAADI/YtrSwuqck4s/S220/Nixon.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
