<?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-19585613</id><updated>2011-04-22T00:11:59.347-04:00</updated><title type='text'>SoakingIn</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>87</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-2557514650126209632</id><published>2007-11-06T20:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T20:59:41.773-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Way too long</title><content type='html'>So, I just realized that my last post was something like.... 5 months ago and so I decided it might be time to update. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 10th week at Rose meaning it's the week after Hell week and the week before death.  I made it through last week and have a "minimal" amount of homework due this week.  Unfortunately, I need to study for my two finals next week, EEE II and Thermo II.  I don't think either will be terribly difficult but they will certainly be intense.  Wish me luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I noticed that the entire front page of my recent posts was very depressing, I decided that needed to be changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents moved into their new house in Lawrenceburg and I get to go see it for the first time next week.  Well, the first time since it's completely finished.  I'm excited for Thanksgiving, to see my friends, but it's certainly going to be difficult without Jim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, things are going well other than that (at least I think).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to post more later but House is on and I'm certainly not going to miss that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-2557514650126209632?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/2557514650126209632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=2557514650126209632&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/2557514650126209632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/2557514650126209632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/11/way-too-long.html' title='Way too long'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-3522561190410987286</id><published>2007-06-03T23:10:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T23:13:56.094-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Summers</title><content type='html'>I constantly find myself wishing my life away.  Living in Terre Haute for school, but spending my breaks (including the summer) in Cincinnati, constantly has me feeling like I have two lives.  When I'm in TH I miss my friends and family back home, especially after Jim died, but when I'm at home I find that I miss my friends in the Haute.  The only problem with missing TH is that in order to see my friends there it means I have to return to classes.  It's been what... a week and a half since school let out?  I guess it seems like a lot longer than that.  No matter what though, I feel like I'm always counting down to something and almost wishing away the time I have right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how I made it through last summer but this one is going to be even harder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-3522561190410987286?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/3522561190410987286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=3522561190410987286&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/3522561190410987286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/3522561190410987286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/06/summers.html' title='Summers'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-6857423196250771232</id><published>2007-05-02T23:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-02T23:27:48.738-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>That's the thing about relationships, sometimes they look better from the outside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-6857423196250771232?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/6857423196250771232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=6857423196250771232&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/6857423196250771232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/6857423196250771232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/05/thats-thing-about-relationships.html' title=''/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-4813081998351265544</id><published>2007-04-22T20:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T23:49:34.502-04:00</updated><title type='text'>*screams*</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;It's pretty bad when the feelings towards your boyfriend consists of "go to hell" and "fuck off".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;Breaking Benjamin:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Living is hard enough&lt;br /&gt;Without you fucking up."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-4813081998351265544?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/4813081998351265544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=4813081998351265544&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/4813081998351265544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/4813081998351265544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/04/screams.html' title='*screams*'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-8837039636023272608</id><published>2007-04-12T00:25:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T00:25:41.482-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oh yeah, and I'm getting sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgot to mention that earlier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-8837039636023272608?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/8837039636023272608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=8837039636023272608&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/8837039636023272608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/8837039636023272608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/04/oh-yeah-and-im-getting-sick.html' title=''/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-6014313668075547398</id><published>2007-04-11T23:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T00:04:47.883-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Break</title><content type='html'>So, I'm on spring break right now, not too much of a break though.&lt;br /&gt;TH... Cincinnati... Wisconsin... Cincinnati... TH... lots of driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway,&lt;br /&gt;I'm at Zach's dad's house at the moment, watching the Nanny (I can't find the remote).&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could say that I was having more fun over break, that's not to say that I'm not having fun, I just wish that I was having more relax time.  But by now you must know me, I don't tend to write in here unless something is bothering me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel comfortable here.  It's not that I don't like Zach's family, I do (even if I question how they think about me).  It's more that there is history in this house that I am not comfortable with.  Believe me, if I could get by without thinking about it I would, but it's not that easy.  For that reason, I can't wait to leave here.  I wish that I could let history stay in the past but it still affects me.  Depending on my mood it even disturbs me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel weird sleeping here, kissing Zach here, being here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-6014313668075547398?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/6014313668075547398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=6014313668075547398&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/6014313668075547398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/6014313668075547398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/04/break.html' title='Break'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-3367695380106492772</id><published>2007-03-26T21:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T21:56:03.484-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Test Results</title><content type='html'>When it comes to sex and relationships you put 100% into both. You like to have fun and try new things but you pay a lot of attention to the PASSION that lives in side of each kiss, touch or meaningful word. You contain the whole package and any man would be would be very lucky to have a women like you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-3367695380106492772?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/3367695380106492772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=3367695380106492772&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/3367695380106492772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/3367695380106492772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/03/test-results.html' title='Test Results'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-1721881732534186745</id><published>2007-03-20T22:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T22:56:09.237-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Only love can break your heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;something to think about...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-1721881732534186745?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/1721881732534186745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=1721881732534186745&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/1721881732534186745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/1721881732534186745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/03/only-love-can-break-your-heart.html' title=''/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-4909340967746552776</id><published>2007-03-10T23:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-10T23:20:27.692-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Short Updates</title><content type='html'>I finally got to talk to my best friend, first time since November.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in Cincinnati, doubting so much I knew was true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hero is dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I've ever been so sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-4909340967746552776?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/4909340967746552776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=4909340967746552776&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/4909340967746552776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/4909340967746552776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/03/short-updates.html' title='Short Updates'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-117055594777541694</id><published>2007-02-03T21:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-03T21:25:47.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Price</title><content type='html'>Is this actually worth it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-117055594777541694?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/117055594777541694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=117055594777541694&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/117055594777541694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/117055594777541694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/02/price.html' title='Price'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116787613601000870</id><published>2007-01-03T20:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T21:02:16.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes, life just doesn't go as planned. &lt;br /&gt;I guess it's how you deal with those things that matters, the things that in your wildest dreams you wished you didn't have to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have experienced two extreme pains in my life, neither of which were physical. &lt;br /&gt;The first, hurting someone that you love for selfish reasons.&lt;br /&gt;The second, the worst, watching someone you love hurt themselves and knowing that you can do absolutely nothing about it.  Being able to do nothing but say "I'm here" is the hardest and most painful thing I have experienced and it's been all too real for far too long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116787613601000870?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116787613601000870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116787613601000870&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116787613601000870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116787613601000870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/01/sometimes-life-just-doesnt-go-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116769503965264933</id><published>2007-01-01T18:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-01T18:43:59.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Addition</title><content type='html'>An Addition to the previous post...&lt;br /&gt;I was fine, I was happy, then I got a message&lt;br /&gt;and suddenly thought I was going to start crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that normal?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116769503965264933?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116769503965264933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116769503965264933&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116769503965264933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116769503965264933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/01/addition.html' title='Addition'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116768462750913829</id><published>2007-01-01T15:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-01T16:13:03.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mexico</title><content type='html'>As weird as it may sound, I don't know if I want to talk to him while he's gone.&lt;br /&gt;Which is strange, for me at least.  I'm not the type of person that is usually ok with no contact.  And it's not that I'm ok with it, it's more just apathy honestly.&lt;br /&gt;Not because I'm mad or upset or anything.&lt;br /&gt;But because having a 5 minute IM conversation only reminds me that he is gone and I can't actually talk to him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116768462750913829?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116768462750913829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116768462750913829&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116768462750913829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116768462750913829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2007/01/mexico.html' title='Mexico'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116717335409098639</id><published>2006-12-26T17:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T17:49:14.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't say some things because I don't want to be judged for how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think I am too dependent because I am sad that I won't talk to you for 10 days then so be it, I am overly dependent then.  But I fail to see how I'm wrong in being upset about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you have fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116717335409098639?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116717335409098639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116717335409098639&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116717335409098639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116717335409098639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-dont-say-some-things-because-i-dont.html' title=''/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116702768858665784</id><published>2006-12-25T01:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T01:21:28.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Something that I found...</title><content type='html'>&lt;h1 style="margin: 0pt; font-size: 12px;"&gt;“One day at a time--this is enough. Do not look back and grieve over the past for it is gone; and do not be troubled about the future, for it has not yet come. Live in the present, and make it so beautiful it will be worth remembering.”&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116702768858665784?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116702768858665784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116702768858665784&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116702768858665784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116702768858665784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/12/something-that-i-found.html' title='Something that I found...'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116702434931185345</id><published>2006-12-25T00:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T00:30:50.240-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Christmas Time Again</title><content type='html'>Well, as you can tell from the title I'm sure you know what time it is, or rather what day it is.  So Merry Christmas everyone!  As great as I'm sure it is going to be, there is a big part of my Christmas isn't here and it will be, at the very least, incomplete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I had the first family Christmas even tonight, the biggest and most traditional.  I finally met my uncle's significant other, or whatever she is.  (She was wearing a ring but the two of them swear up and down that they're not engaged).  My uncle looked a lot better than the last time I saw him (Thanksgiving) but that doesn't mean that all is well.  He is still drinking, heavily.  I wish that there was something that I could do to help him but I'm of no use.  He is wasting his life away one sip at a time and I can't watch that happen to another person that I care about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My aunt brought her other half as well, it's really hard to determine which one of them is the better half because neither of them is much good.  They stuck around for food and presents and then immediately took off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cousins are... their normal self.  Michael is distant, Kelly is Kelly, and Brian is drunk.  Kevin is only 3 months from getting his license (terrifying, I know) and in a few months All of the cousins will be teenagers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandpa looks a lot better than I saw him last and will apparently be able to move to a cane sometime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home though, I talked to my parents a lot about my upbringing and such and began to talk to them about my grandma (who died before I was born).  I was named after her, Anne Marie, partially because my mom wanted in some way to believe that her mother was still with her after she died.  This turned out to be more appropriate than either of my parents imagined.  Apparently I am my grandmother, more than anyone could have expected.  My mom said that I am my grandma born in the time period she deserved to live in.  My grandmother went to college, in the 50's, something unheard of in those days for a woman, but was faced with far too much controversy to put her education to good use.  She was forced to simply stay at home and raise the children, which made it even harder when she died because she was the rock that the entire family stood on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that in some way I'm extremely complemented that my mom told me that she reminded me so much of her mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had met her, I really really do.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's what I should have wished for for Christmas...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116702434931185345?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116702434931185345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116702434931185345&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116702434931185345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116702434931185345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/12/its-christmas-time-again.html' title='It&apos;s Christmas Time Again'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116671233790002606</id><published>2006-12-21T09:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T09:45:37.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes, (insert self-demeaning comment here)</title><content type='html'>I didn't intend for things to happen this way and I can't help but feel ridiculed for how I feel. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not understood because I have high morals and I value specific things that should be entirely personal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I say are taken to a whole new level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I believe that people can change entirely.  I guess it has been shown to me that you can't change a person, or they can't really change themselves either.  I'm not saying people can't change at all, just that I don't think that people can change 100%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hypocritical Scumbag&lt;br /&gt;That's how I felt/thought last night...&lt;br /&gt;yeah.... I know&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116671233790002606?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116671233790002606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116671233790002606&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116671233790002606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116671233790002606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/12/sometimes-insert-self-demeaning.html' title='Sometimes, (insert self-demeaning comment here)'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116648987828831987</id><published>2006-12-18T19:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T19:59:52.936-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What to do</title><content type='html'>So I have a suspicion, a rather supported one, but only a suspicion none the less.&lt;br /&gt;This puts me in a very awkward situation though because I have a feeling I am not supposed to know whatever it is that I suspect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what do I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I think that one of my friends is cheating on his/her significant other...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I talk to that person about it?  Do I contact their significant other? Do I let it go completely?  And if I do bring it up how do I even go about that?  Because I wasn't there, I don't know what's going on for sure.  It's a shitty situation that I feel bad for even getting into, whether or not I even wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to have to figure out what to do, althought what to do might simply be keeping my mouth shut for a little while.  This is not exactly the most opportune moment to be presented with this anyway, way too much shit to do.&lt;br /&gt;But break won't be good either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How hard is it to be honest and faithful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No joke, this makes me doubt the goodness in people a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116648987828831987?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116648987828831987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116648987828831987&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116648987828831987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116648987828831987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/12/what-to-do.html' title='What to do'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116630761197926316</id><published>2006-12-16T17:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-16T17:20:11.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Noticing A Trend</title><content type='html'>Am I really that horrible of a person?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do people really think that my words and actions are, even subconsciously, an active attempt to harm them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if this is true then why do people put up with me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am trying to work here but overcomig my past indiscretions is not easy in the slightest bit.  I do and say things to clarify myself beyond what I have ever done before.  I work hard not to be upset and to be completely honest when I am about what happened to get me that way.  It honestly hurts that even a part of people thinks that my words and actions are a direct attempt to hurt them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was a people pleaser.  Apparently that doesn't hold true for the people that I love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if any of this is true, which I hope and pray that it isn't, what do I do next.  If I'm only going to hurt the people that I love should I not be able to love anymore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it all just comes back to the saying that, "love is pain."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116630761197926316?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116630761197926316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116630761197926316&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116630761197926316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116630761197926316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/12/noticing-trend.html' title='Noticing A Trend'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116414895544384361</id><published>2006-11-21T17:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T17:53:28.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>I decided to change that last entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I want to be in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because it always ends in hurt.  If you don't care then it can't hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote this entry and then walked into the other room and thought about it.  It's not true, I do want to be in love. Despite the hurt, it's the most amazing feeling I've ever had in the entire world.  I wouldn't trade it for anything and I regret feeling that way even for a second.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116414895544384361?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116414895544384361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116414895544384361&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116414895544384361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116414895544384361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/11/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116413329025817567</id><published>2006-11-21T13:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-16T17:10:39.990-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Results</title><content type='html'>"Baby, you have something more precious than diamonds: totally legit love."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As hard as things get it's worth it, and honestly, it isn't that big of a deal. I'm not willing to quit and give up because I know that if I were to make that decision I would regret it the next minute.&lt;br /&gt;I just hope this feeling isn't only mine, that it's shared by the other person it matters to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of something last night before falling asleep, something that makes me extremely happy but I don't know if I feel comfortable writing in this. A realization that I didn't think I could come to without simply dreaming, by actually logically thinking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to get back to Terre Haute, not for the classes, obviously not for the smell, but to hug him and kiss him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116413329025817567?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116413329025817567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116413329025817567&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116413329025817567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116413329025817567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/11/results.html' title='Results'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116405702660092623</id><published>2006-11-20T16:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T16:10:26.630-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Break</title><content type='html'>It's break and I'm bitter, yippie.&lt;br /&gt;I'll see everyone when I get back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116405702660092623?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116405702660092623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116405702660092623&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116405702660092623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116405702660092623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/11/break.html' title='Break'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-116010331096993361</id><published>2006-10-05T22:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T22:55:10.986-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Challenge</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Warning: I got a little sidetracked while writing this so it may have gone a little "sappy", I appologize if this bothers you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I started dating Zach I thought of love as a fairy tale world, everything is fine and dandy and sunshine and butterflies.  Well, if the last 10 months have shown me nothing else, at least they have shown me that this is not true.  Not that this is a bad thing, don't get me wrong, but it's not something I was anticipating. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is work, it's very scary for me to think of it like that but it's true.  You are two people in a relationship, of course it's not going to be perfect all of the time, but that doesn't mean that it has to end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's extremely scary for me to fall in love.  I am rendering myself practically powerless because I am giving away my heart and soul.  By saying the words "I love you" I don't mean I kinda like you know and you are cool to hang around with.  When I say "I love you" I mean it, with every bone, with every fiber, with every molecule of me.  I mean it from the depth of my soul, I am truly, madly, deeply in love with you.  I would put myself in front of you if it meant saving your life, I would give up all that I have to make you happy.  Love is not a temporary thing, it is permanent.  As much as my pessimistic side dislikes the fact that I'm thinking about my future with Zach it is still happening.  No matter what happens though, I know that I will always love him.  I have honestly never felt the feelings I have when I simply look into his eyes.  Seeing him smile send shivers down my spine and tingles to my heart.  But opening yourself up to someone this deeply means that getting hurt means being extremely hurt.  Like I said, I have never felt so strongly about anyone before; I have been extremely hurt before so I can only imagine the pain that would come if something like that were to happen now.  Once again, don't get me wrong, I'm not anticipating this happening, it's just a thought tangent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the whole point of this was not about being hurt, it was about love being work.  It just always seemed like loving someone, being in a relationship with someone, should be fun.  You should just get along and be perfect together.  I think that as I have grown older I have strayed further and further away from the idea of a soul mate.  I can't believe that there is one person out there that I am meant to be with.  Yes, I do believe that I will spend the rest of my life with one person but that doesn't mean that it was predestined for me.  If this is true then my ideas about love being easy would go out the window because as soul mates wouldn't you always get along?  I guess I just like to think that I get to make the decision of who I fall in love with and who I stay with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going off on a lot of tangents, damn brain working faster than the fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the love being work part though, I'm willing to work at it.  I know that it's only going to get harder, and that's scary because I already don't like the level of difficulty now.  But now all I have to fight with is TRM and school work, soon I'll have to fight with a real job that he loves; a job that moves him around the world on some messed up schedule.  {Note:  This is not set in stone yet because he doesn't actually have a job yet but I hope he does, as much as I am dreading having to deal with him being on co-op and leaving I want this for him.  This is his passion and seeing him enjoy something so much would make me very happy.}  But hopefully I'll be able to handle that, being there when he randomly comes home on a wednesday night or something, and when he can only talk from noon to 1pm cause of the time zone he is in.  I guess I just try to look past those times.  Because I'll only have to deal with him being on co-op for a couple of months, and being gone while I'm in school for the same amount of time.  I guess I see that, relatively, that's not a lot of time because there's all the time afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that I have sufficiently sapped myself out for today, goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random fact:  Being mildly-anal-retentive was bad for me today, I actually got hurt.  It's kinda funny if you know the story though, at least Katie thought it was funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-116010331096993361?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/116010331096993361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=116010331096993361&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116010331096993361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/116010331096993361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/10/challenge.html' title='Challenge'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115993746614311551</id><published>2006-10-04T00:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T00:51:06.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprises</title><content type='html'>I love surprising people but recently it seems like I suck at it, I get so close only to be upsetted right at the climax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinda makes me angry to lose the ability to do something I used to be good at, something I enjoyed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115993746614311551?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115993746614311551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115993746614311551&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115993746614311551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115993746614311551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/10/surprises.html' title='Surprises'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115980349180496405</id><published>2006-10-02T11:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T11:38:11.826-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Girls</title><content type='html'>So, why are girls (in general) so shallow?&lt;br /&gt;I don't get it, I'm not going to pretend to.  But there is a reason why I don't like girls for the most part.  Because they do things like this. &lt;br /&gt;If you're mad at me, fucking tell me, don't tell other people and not talk to me about it.&lt;br /&gt;Come on now.&lt;br /&gt;I don't get how people can throw away friendship over something so stupid.&lt;br /&gt;Aargh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115980349180496405?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115980349180496405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115980349180496405&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115980349180496405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115980349180496405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/10/girls.html' title='Girls'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115953624804087535</id><published>2006-09-29T09:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T09:28:38.110-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Option A: What the fuck?              Option B: Oh my Fucking God!</title><content type='html'>You may choose your favorite title and insert it at the top of this bitter journal entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently in DE class not taking notes, anyone who knows me knows that that is extremely hard for me to do.  Well boys and girls, I found a few ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Option #1:  Fuck with my friends&lt;br /&gt;If you hurt my friends and then drag me into the fucking situation I am going to be pissed off.  That's right, pissed off.  If I see you on campus (if the you I am referring to even reads this entry) then you sure as hell better hope that I don't find you when I am alone because I can't be held accountable for whatever happens to you.  You crossed the line again and again, in terms of strikes you reached a record breaking 10000, ass hole.  I don't want you in my life anymore, or in anyone elses for that matter.  You made your bed and now you have to lie in it, what you did contradicts common sense and common decency.  I hope you're happy.  No, I take that back, I hope you aren't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Option #2:  Graphically visually represent something that is already uncomfortable for me&lt;br /&gt;So I realize that for 90-something percent of you reading this, option #2 makes absolutely no sense, well I don't give a fuck.  I know what it means, and at least one other person does and that's all that matters to me.  It's honestly no one elses business and I will personally decide who else gets to know about it.  So you aren't too confused though I'll explain without any details.  There are certain things that I don't want to think about because they make me uncomfortable.  By giving me a graphic visual it makes the situation sooo much worse.&lt;br /&gt;In dealing with #2 there are a few ways I can deal with it,&lt;br /&gt;1.  Try to ignore it&lt;br /&gt;2.  Stay bitter for a while&lt;br /&gt;3.  Change how I act and what I do (not how I react to this being SAID, but more how I react to it being DONE)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So fucking yay, it's 9:15 and I'm pissed off.  This bodes well for the rest of the day.  In dealing with option #1 there's almost nothing I can do.  Keeping the bad apple around is not my decision but if I had my decision he would be gone.  That's a situation I just want to be finished already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure I made boy mad this morning by blatantly ignoring him and walking away while he tried to hug me and I do feel bad but at the same time I have too many other emotions inside of me to care.  Not to mention the fact that thinking about option #2 makes me want to vomit.  A few days ago I found the Japanese symbols for honesty and drew them on my wrist.  This was to remind me that boy can't read my mind, so I can't say one thing but mean another; I have to be honest about it.  Which means that I have to be honest about this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115953624804087535?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115953624804087535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115953624804087535&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115953624804087535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115953624804087535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/09/option-what-fuck-option-b-oh-my.html' title='Option A: What the fuck?              Option B: Oh my Fucking God!'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115930566838641898</id><published>2006-09-26T17:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T17:21:08.416-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm really sick of coming up with titles</title><content type='html'>I'm not going to lie, sometimes I feel left behind&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115930566838641898?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115930566838641898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115930566838641898&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115930566838641898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115930566838641898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/09/im-really-sick-of-coming-up-with.html' title='I&apos;m really sick of coming up with titles'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115875884168121323</id><published>2006-09-20T09:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T09:27:21.696-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What I talked about last time</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm finally getting around to writing my post that I mentioned and good news for you, it's going to be pretty short, I'm going to cover the basics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  School&lt;br /&gt;School is definitely proving to be more of a challenge this year than last year.  I have considerably more homework and harder classes.  I wouldn't go so far as to say ConApps will be the death of me but it's certainly going to be a challenge.  Then there's tutoring: Learning Center and Sydney (the girl I tutor).  It's nice helping people because I feel good about myself and it keeps me from fully forgetting things.  There's also graph comm, which I love.  I have a blast with the kids and I can't believe I'm getting paid to goof off for 3 hours.  My first DE II test is coming up and I'm really scared so in the next couple of days I will be working pretty hard to figure that stuff out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.   Love&lt;br /&gt;There is no denying that the last few weeks have been more difficult than either of us would have liked but that by no means says that I'm going anywhere.  In fact, the fact that I can be upset and not want to quit says something for me.  Truth be told, in the past if I had a problem I was liable to simply say "fuck it" and walk away.  I have no desire to leave Zach in any way, in fact, the longer I can stay with him the better.  No matter how unhappy he thinks he makes me sometimes, there is no comparison to the level of pure joy I get the majority of the time (hell, I'm smiling right now).  He mentioned something the other day about us and a business after graduation which I won't go into here but sounded freaking awesome.  =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Friends&lt;br /&gt;Since my classes are very clustered, I work, and I don't live in New Res it makes it kinda hard to see some of my friends.  I get to hang out a lot with Katie which is pretty cool, not gonna lie, she's a great person.  I also have lunch with Natalie every day (although I wish we could spend a little more time together sometimes).  Zach is going out of town this weekend so I plan to use it to write my paper, teach myself DE, and hang out with people I normally can't get a hold of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Cool things&lt;br /&gt;Let's see what I can come up with for this section...&lt;br /&gt;    - I have an interview this Friday with Catiplillar&lt;br /&gt;    - For Delta Sig, I was voted second for homecoming queen nominee&lt;br /&gt;    - I have a pretty new business suit for Friday (I got to see my mom when I got it)&lt;br /&gt;    - I used my new tea thing for the first time today&lt;br /&gt;    - I have a surprise for Zach that I hope works out the way I planned&lt;br /&gt;    - I am trying to get involved with Tech for the Rose play this fall&lt;br /&gt;    - The Learning Center overpays me&lt;br /&gt;    - I'm sure there are more and who knows, maybe I'll put them on later&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this turned out to be longer than expected but who cares.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115875884168121323?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115875884168121323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115875884168121323&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115875884168121323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115875884168121323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/09/what-i-talked-about-last-time.html' title='What I talked about last time'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115844897032059129</id><published>2006-09-16T19:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-16T19:22:50.343-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates</title><content type='html'>So, there will either be a very lengthy update coming up soon or not one at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115844897032059129?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115844897032059129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115844897032059129&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115844897032059129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115844897032059129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/09/updates.html' title='Updates'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115803114085418731</id><published>2006-09-11T23:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T23:20:50.420-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New Pieces of Information</title><content type='html'>So, in the past few days I have learned the following pieces of information:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I may think that boy is perfect for me, I am not perfect for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be with him more than he wants to be with me (at least that's what he presents).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the difficult girlfriend I tried so hard not to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing that I'm falling into the same trenches that I thought I did a good job of refilling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115803114085418731?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115803114085418731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115803114085418731&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115803114085418731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115803114085418731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/09/new-pieces-of-information.html' title='New Pieces of Information'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115620768774034709</id><published>2006-08-21T20:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T00:04:56.386-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation</title><content type='html'>As of right now I am sitting at the counter in Zach's Dad's house in Wausau, Wisconson.  Honestly, I don't know if I ever actually pictured being here, it's a strange feeling.  There are so many people and so many new places that I've been seing in the last few days.  I was so excited to see him in the airport on Saturday, honestly I'm still excited to see him every time I look at him.  It's amazing how much I miss him when we're apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll write more in a little, I'm going to go watch a sunset....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, back... not that you'll be able to even tell that I left since the time on this entry isn't going to change at all.  Back to what I was talking about though.  I was very apprehensive to meet memebers of Zach's famile, there are a lot of people and names to remember.  Right now I'm with his Dad's family and tomorrow I will be heading back to spend more time with his friends and mom/sister.  I'm feeling mostly comfortable, I feel like I'm getting along well with his family but sometimes I still wonder.  Hopefuly they like me, because that means a lot to me.  Having my family get along with my significant other means a lot to me.  I'm hoping that they will tell him what they thought and I will find out if I passed the test, if this is even a test..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now to discuss any other new developments..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My birthday had its ups and downs.  The adventure with my family was fun, although my mom was dissapointed that I wasn't more overjoyed with the present that she got me.  Dinner with them was interesting because it was Linny's last night here so it was a combination dinner.  That being said, the entire Ash family was being strange because their baby was leaving (this was all the day before my birthday).  On my actual brithday I spent time with my friends, or a very limited selection of them.  My dinner of 8 and party of 20-30 turned into a dinner for 5 and a gathering of... 3.  Woohoo, boo on all of the people I was counting on coming to that, thanks... I feel special (although the people I really wanted to be there were so that made it alright for a while).  The day after my birthday I flew to MN to see Zach, he got me very thoughful presents and we had an AMAZING dinner, no exaggeration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of 8 PM tonight I officially deleted my old LiveJournal account.  It was long time coming and would have been done lot sooner had I actually thought about it a considerable amount.  Anyway, I was wasting time before dinner and somehow thought of the old journal so I decided to look at it.  I am not the same person who wrote those journal entries, I do not possess the same feelings expressed in that journal so it is not activated anymore.  I read the first 5 or so entries and have no desire to read any before then so I no longer have to think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a very thurough eye exam today which revealed more that I would have hoped.  For one, I had an experience that I don't like happening (don't ask), and second I found out that I could be in danger of a very serious disease so there are certain symptoms that I need to watch out for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could think of more to write but I really can't.  I don't know how long it will be before I'm online next but the near future involves the following:&lt;br /&gt;1.  Going back to Minnesota&lt;br /&gt;2.  Going to Terre Haute with Zach's stuff&lt;br /&gt;3.  Going to Cincinnati to get my stuff&lt;br /&gt;4.  Back to Terre Haute with my stuff&lt;br /&gt;5.  School starting&lt;br /&gt;6.  All hell breaking loose =/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of right now though, I'm going to go and be happy because that seems to be the general trend I am on recently.  I like this trend too, it's something I've been missing.  I'm not saying I've been unhappy recently but the past few days (alright, honestly... since Saturday (if you know me and you can do math you can figure out the connection)) have made me uber happy.  So I'm going to go and try to steal boy from his family because I missed him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115620768774034709?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115620768774034709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115620768774034709&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115620768774034709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115620768774034709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/08/vacation.html' title='Vacation'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115578806123571739</id><published>2006-08-17T00:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T00:15:49.583-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tickle Test</title><content type='html'>Sadly, this is pretty correct...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="what_you_say"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;What You Say&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so you seem to have figured out that he can't read your mind. Good for you. But, you don't exactly say what you mean either. Datespeak requires a very difficult balancing act. Maintaining complete honesty in a dating situation is very complicated. You end up with a lot of tip-toeing around the heart of a subject. Saying what you mean can be awkward for both parties. But you've managed to find a way to cushion your words while hinting at the true meaning behind them. Good work. Whether this comes naturally for you or you've learned the hard way, you know that misleading a guy can result in a messy situation. You could be a little more direct when talking datespeak, but you're clearly not intending to avoid a topic altogether. Just be careful. If you like him, let him know. And if you don't, find a way to send him that message. It'll save both you and the guy some trouble if you refrain from speaking in code!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="what_you_believe"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;What You Believe&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm...seems like you're not quite sure whether to trust him or not. You probably want to take what he says at face value, but there's some nagging part of you that just won't let you completely believe him. You definitely don't analyze his every word. Pat yourself on the back for that one. But you do keep your defenses up just in case. Unfortunately, cynicism has become a beneficial attribute for people submerged in the dating scene. Maybe in the beginning it's smart to look out for number one and refrain from trusting too easily. But you need to know that when a guy has proven his good intentions, it's time to put your questioning mind to rest. This is key to having a good relationship. Skepticism may protect you from getting hurt, but when you see a good thing on the horizon, make sure you show some trust. It's a smart woman who knows how to crack the datespeak code.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115578806123571739?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115578806123571739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115578806123571739&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115578806123571739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115578806123571739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/08/tickle-test.html' title='Tickle Test'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115558926836881694</id><published>2006-08-14T16:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T17:01:08.386-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Visit</title><content type='html'>I'm killing time before work so I decided to write a short entry.  I'm leaving for Minnesota this Saturday after my birthday to visit Zach.  I'm so excited to go see him, honestly it's been so long since I've been with him that it's starting to hurt how much I miss him.  He just left for a camping trip with his friends for a few days so I won't be able to talk to him so I'm kinda hoping the next few days go by pretty fast.  This summer has gone by fast overall.  I would write more but I just had a complete brain fart and I have to get food before work.  I'll write more later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115558926836881694?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115558926836881694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115558926836881694&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115558926836881694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115558926836881694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/08/visit.html' title='Visit'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115492628972172622</id><published>2006-08-07T00:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T00:51:29.733-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Maybe, you have to let go of who you are to become who you will be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115492628972172622?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115492628972172622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115492628972172622&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115492628972172622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115492628972172622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/08/maybe-you-have-to-let-go-of-who-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115479970708058719</id><published>2006-08-05T13:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-05T13:45:28.716-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Night</title><content type='html'>So, somehow I managed to have a good and bad time simultaneously last night.  Things definitely didn't go as planned almost the entire evening.  I woke up mad, I'm still not happy.  Whatever, I don't want to talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In your opinion, and what is that? &lt;br /&gt;It's just a different point of view"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115479970708058719?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115479970708058719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115479970708058719&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115479970708058719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115479970708058719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/08/friday-night.html' title='Friday Night'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115401644611984741</id><published>2006-07-27T12:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-27T12:07:26.133-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream</title><content type='html'>I just had a dream that someone was trying to kill me.&lt;br /&gt;Not that I thought someone was trying to kill me, but in my dream I was actually being killed.&lt;br /&gt;Once I survived I started crying in my dream.&lt;br /&gt;I woke up in tears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115401644611984741?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115401644611984741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115401644611984741&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115401644611984741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115401644611984741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/07/dream.html' title='Dream'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115387956236811359</id><published>2006-07-25T22:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T22:06:02.380-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry</title><content type='html'>I'm sorry for being the way I am&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115387956236811359?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115387956236811359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115387956236811359&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115387956236811359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115387956236811359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/07/sorry.html' title='Sorry'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115314985571120464</id><published>2006-07-17T11:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T11:24:15.733-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stress</title><content type='html'>I have a lot of things going on right now that I don't want to deal with.  I'm not going into detail, or even just saying what topic they fall under; you're just going to have to trust that they are things I can't deal with.  But in the few days it has been going on I have discovered several things.  So while the situation may bite the big one, I'm learning from it and I guess that's the best I can ask for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115314985571120464?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115314985571120464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115314985571120464&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115314985571120464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115314985571120464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/07/stress.html' title='Stress'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115285628641189794</id><published>2006-07-14T01:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T01:51:26.430-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Notion</title><content type='html'>If you feel something so strong, it seems to me that you should express it&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115285628641189794?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115285628641189794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115285628641189794&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115285628641189794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115285628641189794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/07/notion.html' title='Notion'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115276212131458576</id><published>2006-07-12T23:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T23:42:01.330-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Count to 10</title><content type='html'>I'm calming down but still royally pissed off.  I had planned on venting into this journal but I don't have enough energy left in me to do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a note though, it's very hard to actually piss me off.  I'm not talking adgitated or disturbed, but actually pissed off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So congratu-fucking-lations to tonight's winner who managed to get that far under my skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*scowl*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115276212131458576?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115276212131458576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115276212131458576&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115276212131458576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115276212131458576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/07/count-to-10.html' title='Count to 10'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115241992466699665</id><published>2006-07-09T00:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T00:38:44.683-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I promise this isn't a song</title><content type='html'>I appologize that the last few updates have been songs or excerpts from songs but for some reason they all stuck in my mind and I felt the need to put them down on my virtual paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I decided to actually update with some information before I head off to bed, rather early for me I know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zach left today to head back to Terre Haute after visiting me for just under a week, hopefully he enjoyed himself (despite me making it difficult (which I am truly sorry for and working to change)).  It may be dorky but I miss him already and I'm already anticipating my visit to Terre Haute.   It's not like me to put into something so public feelings so private but I can't stop thinking about him.  Honestly, just a mere thought makes my heart feel warm and tingly and spreads a smile accross my face.  I could go on and on but I'm sure no one wants to read about it and anyone who wants to know about it already knows.  I wrote a post a little while ago about looking into someone's eyes and not seeing something, I see it now and it's the best feeling in the world. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work's alright, minus the fact that the job sucks, the hours suck, and I'm not getting paid nearly enough.  With everything that I may hate about the job though, it works for me.  Because of the way the schedule is done and the amount of time I have worked there I basically have the ability to get the hours and schedule I want.  This means that I can go out of town to Terre Haute if I feel the need, which I do coincidentally ;).  At least I like most of the people I work with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends are good, the Ashes got back in town recently and I need to go shopping with Linny to help her pick things out for college.  I want to hang out with Ashley more but due to our schedules being polar opposites that doesn't happen too often.  I actually think that it can be hard to hang out with people outside of work because of how much I work.   Not just because of finding time to do it, but also because when there is time there's no guarenteeing that I will have the energy.  I got to talk to Tess today too, I miss that girl and I am trying to convince her to come to Terre Haute the weekend that I will be there so that I can hang out with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went running tonight for the first time in a while and remembered why I hate running.  My legs don't get tired, it's not my hearbeat, I don't get cramps, it's my throat that stops me from running first.  Anyway, I went running to wake me up because I was so tired but actually started to fall asleep while running so I ended up sprinting home, bad idea...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister's birthday is on Monday and she and the family are coming for dinner on Wednesday, which, unfortunately, is while I am at work.  It's been a very long time since I have seen my sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever After is on TV, again, for the third time &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;today&lt;/span&gt;.  I love the movie but I'm convinced that ABC Family is determined to get me sick of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115241992466699665?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115241992466699665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115241992466699665&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115241992466699665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115241992466699665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-promise-this-isnt-song.html' title='I promise this isn&apos;t a song'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115223978883907707</id><published>2006-07-06T22:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T22:41:36.703-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Breathe</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd&lt;br /&gt;Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud&lt;br /&gt;And I know that you'll use them, however you want to"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115223978883907707?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115223978883907707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115223978883907707&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115223978883907707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115223978883907707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/07/just-breathe.html' title='Just Breathe'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115211906371383729</id><published>2006-07-05T13:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-05T13:05:29.656-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Feel Flows</title><content type='html'>Unfolding enveloping missiles of soul&lt;br /&gt;Recall senses sadly&lt;br /&gt;Mirage like soft blue like lanterns below&lt;br /&gt;To light the way gladly&lt;br /&gt;Whether whistling heaven's clouds disappear&lt;br /&gt;Where the wind withers memory&lt;br /&gt;Whether whiteness whisks soft shadows away&lt;br /&gt;Feel flows  (White hot glistening shadowy flows)&lt;br /&gt;Feel goes (Black hot glistening shadowy flows)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unbending never ending tablets of time&lt;br /&gt;Record all the yearning&lt;br /&gt;Unfearing all appearing message divine&lt;br /&gt;Eases the burning&lt;br /&gt;Whether willing witness waits at my mind&lt;br /&gt;Whether hope dampens memory&lt;br /&gt;Whether wondrous will stands tall at my side&lt;br /&gt;Feel flows  (White hot glistening shadowy flows)&lt;br /&gt;Feel goes (Black hot glistening shadowy flows)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Encasing all embracing wreath of repose&lt;br /&gt;Engulfs all the senses&lt;br /&gt;Imposing, unclosing thoughts that compose&lt;br /&gt;Retire the fences&lt;br /&gt;Whether wholly heartened life fades away&lt;br /&gt;Whether harps heal the memory&lt;br /&gt;Whether wholly heartened life fades away&lt;br /&gt;Whether wondrous will stands tall at my side&lt;br /&gt;Whether whiteness whisks soft shadows away&lt;br /&gt;Feel goes (White hot glistening shadowy flows)&lt;br /&gt;Feel flows  (Black hot glistening shadowy flows)&lt;br /&gt;Feel goes (White hot glistening shadowy flows)&lt;br /&gt;Feelings to grow (White hot glistening shadowy flows)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;White hot glistening shadowy flows&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115211906371383729?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115211906371383729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115211906371383729&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115211906371383729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115211906371383729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/07/feel-flows.html' title='Feel Flows'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115164567550903019</id><published>2006-06-30T01:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T02:04:33.456-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep</title><content type='html'>So I know that I should be sleeping now, my brain and body feel very tired; there's just one problem.  I feel like my insides are going a mile a minute.  It's like the inside of my body is just spinning around and around and despite my utter and complete exhaustion I can't even lay still for 5 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried everything:&lt;br /&gt;I went in the hot tub, I layed in bed, I read, I watched TV, I'm journaling, I looked at stuff online, I worked more on the cake, I got a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite knocking myself unconscious with a frying pan I don't know what to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115164567550903019?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115164567550903019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115164567550903019&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115164567550903019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115164567550903019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/06/sleep.html' title='Sleep'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115103991920668323</id><published>2006-06-23T01:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T03:05:15.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Update Time</title><content type='html'>Alright, it's finally update time boys and girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came back to Cincinnati yesterday afternoon from an amazing few days in Terre Haute.  Although it took me being intoxicated to explain some critical parts of my personality to Zach I'm glad that I explained them, now I just hope that he remembers them.  To be honest, I could probably fill up an entire journal entry talking simply about that but that may be more that I am willing to put on to this site.  But to be short, things are good in our relationship (at least to the best of my knowledge).  I miss him terribly even though I've hardly been gone two days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, enough about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started back at Graeter's again this summer, oh what a joy.  I've been getting a good number of hours in so hopefully my paychecks (the first one arrives in t minus 15 hours) will be a nice chunk of change.  The job itself is majorly boring but most of the time I manage to entertain myself.  Our assistant manager is leaving shortly and Kimmy (the boss) said that he is going to be depending on me a lot more once she leaves.  This means I will probably be closing again as Team Leader, I just really hope that I didn't forget anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wondering about friends, funny you should ask...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My relationships with friends seem to be going pretty well.  I am finding it hard to stay in touch with certain people that I would like to talk to more but our schedules don't really allow us to talk as much.  Back at home though I have been able to spend a nice amount of time with friends from before college, specifically Ashley.  To be honest, I think we are hanging out more now than we ever did before.  She's a blast to hang out with and really good to talk to on those days when I want to lock myself in my room and not come out to the outside world.  She doesn't just blow me off, she talks to me.  Then of course, there's Clare.  Oh my darling Clare.  I missed her, I wish she didn't work as much but I get to hang out with her tomorrow night so hopefully that will be fun.  I'm also hanging out with people who I haven't talked to in a long time because of certain circumstances.  Specifially Kris.  He and I are supposed to hang out sometime soon.  I'm glad that we have been able to move past the many reasons why we didn't even speak for months on end.  With a few exceptions, I couldn't be happier with my friend statuses (if that's a word).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A random thought...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do have a question though, perhaps one that doesn't have an answer.  Why do things seem different when we're apart?  I know that he doesn't like talking on the phone but it just seems to come off as though he doesn't want to be talking, like it's forced, like he would rather be doing something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm the kind of girl who needs reassurance, being apart makes it especially necessary.  If not told that I am cared for, or wanted, or missed, etc. I won't think that I am.  Which begs the question why do I question every thought, every action, every word?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today wasn't a good day and I don't like the mood I am suddenly in, hopefully it won't last very long&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many thoughts running through my head right now, perhaps because Dashboard is playing, and I kinda want to talk to someone about them but I don't know who to call.  Boy went to hang out before bed and I don't want to call him back simply to say I want to talk again; Clare and Ashley have to work and I don't want to wake them up when they need their sleep.  I would write down my thoughts here but there are major things stopping me:&lt;br /&gt;-Too personal&lt;br /&gt;-Too confusing&lt;br /&gt;-My mind works much faster than my fingers&lt;br /&gt;So for the time being I will lay in bed and ponder the many thoughts running through my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight All&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115103991920668323?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115103991920668323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115103991920668323&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115103991920668323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115103991920668323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/06/update-time.html' title='Update Time'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-115094831673365809</id><published>2006-06-21T23:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T23:51:56.746-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Quicky</title><content type='html'>I plan on actually fully updating this sometime in the not so distant future but truth be told, I just don't feel like doing it right now.  For some reason though I felt the need to write down that I plan on writing things down even though I'm too lazy to write anything down right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-115094831673365809?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/115094831673365809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=115094831673365809&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115094831673365809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/115094831673365809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/06/quicky.html' title='Quicky'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114939297636728348</id><published>2006-06-03T23:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T01:14:35.476-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Home</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm officially back in Cincinnati, alone this time.  It's extremely boring as of right now.  I haven't started working yet and I don't have a shit load of yearbook this summer so I am finding myself with nothing to do.  Hopefully once I start working I will be able to occupy myself better and be able to not be as bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully in two weeks I will be heading to Terre Haute to visit Zach and whoever else is in the Haute for the summer.  I keep thinking about how exciting it will be to see him again but then i realize that althought it's only a few weeks until I see him, I will only be there for a few days and then I have to leave again for a few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, hopefully I will manage to do three things this summer:&lt;br /&gt;1.  Spend time with my friends from back home&lt;br /&gt;2.  Make a ton of money&lt;br /&gt;3.  Make it go fast&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As sad as it sounds, I miss classes and homework.  Not the work itself, just constantly having something to do.  I hate just sitting around the house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114939297636728348?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114939297636728348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114939297636728348&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114939297636728348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114939297636728348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/06/home.html' title='Home'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114905977730126898</id><published>2006-05-31T03:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T03:16:17.313-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought</title><content type='html'>It's extremely hard to look into someone's eyes and realize that the depth of feelings you possess for them are not equally returned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114905977730126898?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114905977730126898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114905977730126898&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114905977730126898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114905977730126898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/05/thought.html' title='Thought'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114859862096413484</id><published>2006-05-25T18:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-25T19:10:20.980-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving</title><content type='html'>Here I sit, at my desk in Blum 402 (the slut room) for the last time.  Most of my stuff is packed in a random assortment of boxes and bags I have either found in my room or gotten out of a dumpster.  People have already left Rose, people very important to me.  Kristen left this morning at 7 AM and I said my "goodbye" to her last night during the drunken girl time in my room.  I'm horrible at saying goodbye, whether it be for a measly 3 months or forever.  I realize we are not leaving forever, that it's only 3 months, that I may see her over break, that I will still talk to her but none the less Kristen leaving made the fact that we're all leaving hit hard.  Driving away from Rose last night I started to cry thinking about all of the people here that mean something to me.  Leaving Cincinnati was horrible when I came to Rose but there was more security in it.  The majority of people who meant something to me in Cincinnati were all still in Cincinnati.  Those close to me at Rose though are spread throughout the country.  Being apart for 3 months from these people is so sad for me, but it's even sadder to think that some of the people who mean a lot to me are leaving forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have gone through many phases during the course of this school year but I believe that I am coming out much better than I came in.  My grades are adequate for me; well they were last time I checked but I have no idea what finals have done to them this quarter.  I have made many friends that I know I can count on when I need someone, or when I just want to have fun.  I am in a relationship with an amazing guy who means the world to me and I couldn't be happier.  As strange as it may sound, being apart from my parents has made me closer to them.  I think it's because going to college has made me a more mature person than I was at home.  I'm uber excited for my room next year in Skinner and having an almost apartment to live in.  I'm so ready to have my own life; to have my own place, to pay bills, to be responsible and independent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the next few months who knows where you'll find me.  I plan on working a lot at Graeter's again to get out of the debt I'm sure I have put myself in.   I'm hoping to get about 40 hours a week, even with making lots of random trips during the summer.  I'm kidnapping the boy for the first week of break, well I don't know if it's kidnapping if he readily agrees to come.  I hope to make a few trips to Terre Haute over the summer, maybe go to Minnesota, a little Pittsburgh, and of course the road trip which as of now stands:&lt;br /&gt;Terre Haute - Kansas City, MO - Las Vegas, NV - San Diego, CA - Seattle, WA - Terre Haute&lt;br /&gt;Long drive I know but it should be a blast if it ends up happening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving Rose is very bittersweet, as is almost anything that means something to me.  As hard as it is to say goodbye to people it makes me happy to think about the fact that in order for me to be so sad, they must be something very important to me.  The classes here may be challenging, and this school may suck sometimes but it's all worth it to me.  Having these people to come back to after a bad day; having friends who will go buy me Smoothies and Resses when I refuse to leave my bed because I'm crying; drunken phone calls; corrupting the innocent, 11 o'clock songs, sleep deprived induced randomness:  these are the things that makes Rose worth it to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114859862096413484?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114859862096413484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114859862096413484&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114859862096413484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114859862096413484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/05/leaving.html' title='Leaving'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114775871386481348</id><published>2006-05-16T01:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T01:51:53.876-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Finale</title><content type='html'>I related to far too many parts of the season finale of Grey's Anatomy tonight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried, not had tears in my eyes, but actually cried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As corny as it sounds, I felt pain and sadness in my heart while watching this show.  I'm sure that's what ABC and the writers wanted so congratulations to them, they accomplished their goal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114775871386481348?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114775871386481348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114775871386481348&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114775871386481348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114775871386481348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/05/finale.html' title='Finale'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114708923591961717</id><published>2006-05-08T07:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-08T07:53:55.930-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>So, I meant to do this last night before I went to bed but the internet at Rose crashed which kinda made that impossible.  Unfortunately, the fact that I am writing this at 7:50 in the morning and I have class in about 10 minutes means that it is not going to be nearly as in depth as I had anticipated. &lt;br /&gt;The point of this entry, just to state to anyone and everyone that reads this blog how amazingly happy I am.  I had an amazing weekend and I'm having an amazing year (for the most part). =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114708923591961717?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114708923591961717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114708923591961717&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114708923591961717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114708923591961717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/05/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114660481981842799</id><published>2006-05-02T17:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T17:34:06.043-04:00</updated><title type='text'>50 Things You May Not Know About Me</title><content type='html'>This is what I spent my DE class doing.  At least I was productive during class, unfortunately it wasn't related to DE at all.  Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I won't sing if I think that people can hear me&lt;br /&gt;2.  I love the sound of cars driving on gravel roads&lt;br /&gt;3.  I love the smell of gasoline&lt;br /&gt;4.  I get along better with guys than girls&lt;br /&gt;5.  I love math&lt;br /&gt;6.  I love to build things&lt;br /&gt;7.  I hate the "getting there" stage&lt;br /&gt;8.  I am a procrastinating perfectionist&lt;br /&gt;9.  I wake up before my alarm goes off&lt;br /&gt;10.  I know what my last meal would be if I was on death row&lt;br /&gt;11.  I used to be addicted to Nickelodeon&lt;br /&gt;12.  I can out-burp a dinosaur&lt;br /&gt;13.  I like "little things"&lt;br /&gt;14.  The sexiest part of a guy is his back&lt;br /&gt;15.  My ultimate weakness is having my back kissed&lt;br /&gt;16.  I always wanted to be, but have never been, kissed in the rain&lt;br /&gt;17.  I run when I get pissed off&lt;br /&gt;18.  It's really hard to piss me off&lt;br /&gt;19.  I am a much more sexual person than I tend to present&lt;br /&gt;20.  I have only failed two tests in my life, and they were both curved&lt;br /&gt;21.  I won't watch a scary movie unless I am sleeping with someone that night&lt;br /&gt;22.  I'm not always forward, but I don't lie&lt;br /&gt;23.  I love to stand on my tiptoes when I am getting kissed&lt;br /&gt;24.  I don't believe in love at first sight&lt;br /&gt;25.  I love Navy uniforms&lt;br /&gt;26.  I can crack the code to a Master Lock&lt;br /&gt;27.  I tend to live more in the moment than in the future&lt;br /&gt;28.  I will instantly sacrafice myself for those I love&lt;br /&gt;29.  I love puzzles&lt;br /&gt;30.  I love thunderstorms&lt;br /&gt;31.  I hate pictures of myself&lt;br /&gt;32.  I think my nose is cute&lt;br /&gt;33.  I love OLD clothing (as in Victorian)&lt;br /&gt;34.  I taught myself how to read hieroglyphics&lt;br /&gt;35.  I love to rearrange my room constantly&lt;br /&gt;36.  I'm a little bit of a neat freak&lt;br /&gt;37.  I still sleep with a teddy bear&lt;br /&gt;38.  I used to think I was smart&lt;br /&gt;39.  I'm a very observant person&lt;br /&gt;40.  I wish I could spent all day in a bathrobe&lt;br /&gt;41.  I would kill to have permanent red hair&lt;br /&gt;42.  I would hate to be famous&lt;br /&gt;43.  I am probably only alive to provide comic relief&lt;br /&gt;44.  I don't always think before I speak&lt;br /&gt;45.  I am a very passionate person&lt;br /&gt;46.  I sometimes make cookies just to eat the dough&lt;br /&gt;47.  Memosas are my favorite drink&lt;br /&gt;48.  Practically every joint on my body cracks&lt;br /&gt;49.  I'm not very tickilish unless you know how to turn it on, in which case... yeah, basically I'm tickilish from head to toe&lt;br /&gt;50.  I hate it when people try to be someone that they aren't&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114660481981842799?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114660481981842799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114660481981842799&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114660481981842799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114660481981842799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/05/50-things-you-may-not-know-about-me.html' title='50 Things You May Not Know About Me'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114559311500751154</id><published>2006-04-21T00:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T00:20:02.800-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Productivity</title><content type='html'>So, I felt that I was productive enough tonight so studying more for my DE test tomorrow wasn't necessary.  So I decided to take more online tests =).  Oh, and I do have a lot to do people, I'm not just sitting around all the time. Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          Cute Guys tickle you pink&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://web.tickle.com/rd/50671/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Admit it — you're a flirt at heart. And you don't mind putting yourself out there to get a guy's attention. Making people feel interesting and at ease is just second nature for a smooth operator like you. Which helps explain why nothing makes you happier than that feeling of falling in love, being in love, or staying in love.&lt;!-- br--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did anyone ever call you boy-crazy? Looks like they were right on the money. You're always on the lookout for a smile or wink from the right guy — whether he's a long-term love or a cute new crush. And we know you'll wink back.&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;          You're whipped because he's Smart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, smarty pants. We're not gonna try to slip one by you. Dedicated and driven, you work hard for what you want, and that's why you always get it. Even though you tend to follow your head, that doesn't mean you ignore your heart.&lt;!-- br--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's easy for you to fall for a guy who's quick and bright and can keep up with your varied interests. With your maturity and patience, you'll have no problem finding that perfect fellow who is resourceful and bold enough to win your heart. Brilliant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://web.tickle.com/rd/50671/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114559311500751154?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114559311500751154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114559311500751154&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114559311500751154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114559311500751154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/04/productivity.html' title='Productivity'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114549588680312196</id><published>2006-04-19T21:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T21:18:06.820-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Respect</title><content type='html'>I have officially lost every little ounce of respect I may have ever had for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114549588680312196?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114549588680312196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114549588680312196&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114549588680312196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114549588680312196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/04/respect.html' title='Respect'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114549457433798892</id><published>2006-04-19T20:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T20:56:14.356-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#E6E6FA;"&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Birthdate: August 18&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#F2F2FB"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourbirthdatemeanquiz/birthday.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a cohesive force - able to bring many people together for a common cause.&lt;br /&gt;You tend to excel in work situations, but you also facilitate a lot of social gatherings too.&lt;br /&gt;Beyond being a good leader, you are good at inspiring others.&lt;br /&gt;You also keep your powerful emotions in check - you know when to emote and when to repress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your strength: Emotional maturity beyond your years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your weakness: Wearing yourself down with too many responsibilities&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your power color: Crimson red&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your power symbol: Snowflake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your power month: September&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourbirthdatemeanquiz/"&gt;What Does Your Birth Date Mean?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114549457433798892?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114549457433798892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114549457433798892&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114549457433798892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114549457433798892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/04/birthday.html' title='Birthday'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114494278698429379</id><published>2006-04-13T11:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T11:39:46.986-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fine</title><content type='html'>I'm alright, with the exception of sometimes being scared of losing what I have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114494278698429379?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114494278698429379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114494278698429379&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114494278698429379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114494278698429379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/04/fine.html' title='Fine'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114488235203865480</id><published>2006-04-12T18:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T18:53:52.543-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Advice</title><content type='html'>"You know, even heroes need help."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^This is honestly the best thing anyone has said to me about my current dilemna.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114488235203865480?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114488235203865480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114488235203865480&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114488235203865480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114488235203865480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/04/advice.html' title='Advice'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114455748690085364</id><published>2006-04-09T00:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T16:37:12.910-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Home</title><content type='html'>I finally got home for spring break today.  I'm not going to lie, I'm not as excited about it as most people are.  Wish I could say why, just don't have that much motivation to return home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I listened to a song today that, sadly, almost made me cry.  Despite the swelling of tears in my eyes I still loved the song; actually, I think that's why I teared up.  I can relate to every part of that song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally did something that I have been meaning to do for a while now.  It's weird to hurt and somehow remain happy.  I'm glad I did it in the end, it wasn't fair to me to keep it locked inside (even though that's what I tend to do).  For as much as I talk, I tend to keep a lot inside.  Expressing my wants, needs, desires, and feelings to people is extremely difficult.  I don't have any desire to go into more detail about this though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do when your hero, the person you admire and respect the most, does the one thing that could make them not your hero?  I grew up constantly respecting this man for overcoming obstacles I could never have the strength to do.  After 9 years the obstacle has come back, and he no longer has the strength to fight it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She's a question without answers"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114455748690085364?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114455748690085364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114455748690085364&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114455748690085364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114455748690085364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/04/home_09.html' title='Home'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114409740259670413</id><published>2006-04-03T16:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T16:50:02.610-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend</title><content type='html'>This post is going to be very short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite some setbacks that I can laugh about now, this weekend was amazing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm uber happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114409740259670413?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114409740259670413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114409740259670413&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114409740259670413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114409740259670413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/04/weekend.html' title='Weekend'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114412411210872576</id><published>2006-04-03T00:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T00:15:12.130-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The King</title><content type='html'>Here we go again&lt;br /&gt;Asking where I've been&lt;br /&gt;You can't see these tears are real&lt;br /&gt;I'm crying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can't go on together&lt;br /&gt;With suspicious minds&lt;br /&gt;And be can't build our dreams&lt;br /&gt;On suspicious minds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh let our love survive&lt;br /&gt;Or dry the tears from your eyes&lt;br /&gt;Let's don't let a good thing die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When honey, you know&lt;br /&gt;I've never lied to you&lt;br /&gt;Mmm yeah, yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No real reason for this song, I just forgot how much I love Elvis.  It's been years since I have listened to this music, I missed it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114412411210872576?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114412411210872576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114412411210872576&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114412411210872576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114412411210872576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/04/king.html' title='The King'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114358052415375812</id><published>2006-03-28T16:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T18:07:08.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Relationship Test</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"You are most like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Laid Back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;You are easy to please as long as your special someone is around.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But don’t forget that a touch of romance is always appreciated."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprisingly correct&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114358052415375812?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114358052415375812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114358052415375812&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114358052415375812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114358052415375812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/03/relationship-test.html' title='Relationship Test'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114351811903083118</id><published>2006-03-27T22:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T22:57:23.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Culmination</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So this weekend my problem with speaking my mind and not telling people when things bother me came back to bite me in the ass.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It doesn’t really matter what happened because it has been worked/talked out and things are alright now.  I did find it in me to say how I felt for once, which was hard but beneficial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this weekend also got me thinking about jealousy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m not actually that much of a jealous person, with one exception.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I always think that I am being compared to exes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This wouldn’t be that much of a problem if all of my exes hadn’t gone and dated their exes after we broke up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But since they all have, my fears seem to be strengthened.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t like thinking that I am second best; thinking that the person I am kissing is wishing they were kissing someone else.&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114351811903083118?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114351811903083118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114351811903083118&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114351811903083118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114351811903083118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/03/culmination.html' title='Culmination'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114307790341330447</id><published>2006-03-22T20:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T20:42:14.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thought</title><content type='html'>Somehow this morning when I was showering I got to thinking about surprises, surprising people to be more specific.  I love to surprise people; to give them something random to make their day.  Some times I do it and don't even let them know it was from me.  I like to make the people that I care about feel good so surprising them is a good way for me to do it.  That being said though, I have never succesfully been surprised.  I have this tendency to always figure out when someone is trying to hide something from me or trying to surprise me.  The thing that sucks about this tendency is the fact that I love surprises but I'm yet to find someone who can sucessfully surprise me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114307790341330447?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114307790341330447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114307790341330447&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114307790341330447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114307790341330447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/03/random-thought.html' title='Random Thought'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114291879372165294</id><published>2006-03-20T23:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T00:26:45.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tests</title><content type='html'>Apparently I am a peaceful, compassionate person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114291879372165294?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114291879372165294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114291879372165294&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114291879372165294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114291879372165294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/03/tests.html' title='Tests'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114223239106916017</id><published>2006-03-13T01:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T01:46:31.080-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Normal</title><content type='html'>Things are slowly getting back to normal...&lt;br /&gt;relationships are getting back to normal, classes are getting back to normal, life is getting back to normal, health is getting back to normal, but best of all: I am getting back to normal.  I don't know if it was actually caused by the mono but for the past few weeks I haven't been myself.  Luckily, over the past few days I have been returning to my normalness (which is actually weirdness).  Despite the fact that it means I'm getting weird and probably annoying again, I am glad that I am getting back to normal; I didn't like being the lul and quiet Anne... it's not the real me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114223239106916017?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114223239106916017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114223239106916017&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114223239106916017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114223239106916017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/03/normal.html' title='Normal'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114149192582826469</id><published>2006-03-04T12:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T12:06:06.476-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sophia</title><content type='html'>I have a neice =)!!&lt;br /&gt;Sophia Dodds was born Thursday March 2, 2006 at about 9:00 PM.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited, and jealous.&lt;br /&gt;Angie (my sister) had kids in the order I want them.  Older boy, younger girl.  Don't get all worried though, I'm not going to be having kids for a looong time, there's far too much that I want to do with my life.  But I always wanted an older protective brother as a kid so i want that for my children someday.  Anyway, I'm so excited to spoil my new neice... once I'm allowed to get near her (they don't want me near her because of the mono).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114149192582826469?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114149192582826469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114149192582826469&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114149192582826469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114149192582826469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/03/sophia.html' title='Sophia'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114127855036651242</id><published>2006-03-02T00:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-02T00:52:09.426-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Break</title><content type='html'>Break sucks&lt;br /&gt;1.  I started out by working too much and I will end with not working enough&lt;br /&gt;2.  Thought I had strep&lt;br /&gt;3.  Strep became mono&lt;br /&gt;4.  Mono = pain&lt;br /&gt;5.  Car wouldn't start&lt;br /&gt;6.  Can't get a lot of stuff done&lt;br /&gt;7.  Can't see my friends here because I'm on bed rest and I don't want to get them sick&lt;br /&gt;8.  Missing people from Rose&lt;br /&gt;9.  There are no drugs to fix me so I don't know if I will be better before Rose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, it all boils down to being sick sucks, but that is all I am going to say about it because I feel like it's all that I talk about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114127855036651242?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114127855036651242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114127855036651242&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114127855036651242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114127855036651242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/03/break.html' title='Break'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114056342904041305</id><published>2006-02-21T18:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T13:59:48.830-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Two Cents</title><content type='html'>Random thought, where did that phrase come from?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, this post actually has a specific purpose and it is not to disect the origins of common phrases.  This post is two give my two cents, at least the parts that I remember, about relationships.  As a note before I begin, relationships are not simply dating, I will be talking about friendships and other types of relationships as well.  I hope that I do not come out sounding bitter during the course of this post because that is not my intention; my intention is just to write some of what I think.  And #6 was the real incentive to write this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  First and foremost, my relationships are mine and your relationships are yours.  It is not my place to butt into other people's relationships when I am not wanted and I expect people to bestow the same curteousy on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Relationships, of all kinds, involve effort by both parties; relationships are not a one-way street.  You cannot expect someone to be there for you, to be a great friend if you aren't that way to them.  I have found, semi-recently, that I have several relationships with people in which I am the only person who tries in the relationship.  I constantly fear of losing friends and it hurts once you realize that you are the only person who cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  "I know that a life without love, is no life at all."&lt;br /&gt;"And love without trust, what of that?" (Ever After)&lt;br /&gt;I watched this movie earlier today and it was the final incentive  for me to write this post.  Relationships &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;must&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; have honesty and trust, no matter the type of relationship.  You cannot expect someone to be honest with you when you, in fact, are not being honest with them.  It is hard to sustain a relationship built, or strengthened, on lies or false truths.  One thing I was taught as a child is that not telling the truth is telling a lie; you are intentionally misleading someone.  It's extremely painful to find out that someone you thought you had a strong relationship with is intentionally keeping something from you.  But trust is not based simply on not lying; there is a strong reliance on telling the truth.  There are details about me that only those very close to me know because I am not the type of person to tell my dark secrets to everyone.  I may talk a lot but that doesn' t mean I am spilling my heart and soul with every word.  Your friends should be the people you trust the most; they should be the people you can tell your darkest secrets to without a second thought.  I have told some of my darkest secrets and they have been spread to others without my consent; this has made me think more about who I can trust.  There is so much I could write about trust but it all comes down to basic insticts and morals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  You cannot pick and choose when to be friends with someone; this goes along with relationships being a two way street.  I have been in relationships where the other person moves from friend to friend, coming back to me and then moving along.  You cannot expect me to wait for you and expect me to be ready and waiting whenever you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Boys often say that they don't understand girls and girls say that they don't understand boys; the truth is that we don't understand each other.  Men and women are fundamentally different, of course we aren't going to fully understand each other.  This leads to my next point, communication.  I know that I am not coming up with anything new when saying that communication is key but I am emphasizing from personal experience the neccessity of communication.  I have a rough time speaking my mind, especially when I think it is going to offend someone but I am trying to be better about it; and that's all anyone should expect out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  This isn't high school anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Let me write a little about a situation I recently came accross, actually it's more or less background information that led to a comment that literally made me stop in my tracks.  There is girl #1, girl #2, and boy.  Girl #1 likes boy, girl #2 likes boy; boy likes girl #2.  In a conversation with girl #1 we spoke about girl #2 and boy and the relationship that developed.  Girl #1's comment: "but I knew him first"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You cannot lay claim to someone because you saw, talked to, knew, or whatevered first!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because you knew someone before someone else knew them doesn't mean that a relationship will ensue.  As previously stated, relationships are two way streets - a relationship needs to develop because both parties want it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  There must be equality in relationships.  An example for your enjoyment...&lt;br /&gt;I have a temper, I am very good at controlling it with one provision:  don't mess with my friends.  Anyway; it is very hard for me to fully lose my temper but there are times when I am irritated and easily provokeable; these are the times that fights can occur.  One thing that I have found is necessary for my relationships is that I need someone who will fight back.  If I am not "put in my place" (for lack of a better term) I will continue to be a bitch.  I used to fight with my dad a lot but he always fought back, every time, never failed.  It may seem strange but I believe that it part of the reason I have such a strong relationship with my dad; because he didn't just put up with my shit and I didn't put up with his.  With the exception of the parental relationship-details my dad and I have a relationship of equals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  Sometimes you can hear more from the silence of your friends than from what they say.  When Sam and I were friends we understood eachother inside and out.  I remember being at yearbook one day and getting a phone call from a restricted number and picking it up and just hearing breathing.  Some people might have thought this was a prank call but I knew it was Sam, and that at that moment she needed a friend.  She was the same way for me.  This leads to the fact that sometimes you need to be there for your friends.  When the world seems to hate you and you just wish that you could die, a simple hug can mean the world.  Basically, be there for your friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  Don't force relationships&lt;br /&gt;I felt as though I was getting to sappy before.  If something is going to happen then it is going to happen; you cannot force something that simply isn't there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  Trust; turst is a big one; and sadly a hard one for me.  I have trust issues in relationships; romantic or otherwise.  It takes a lot for me to fully trust a person and it can be difficult.  But my trust issues are on a much deeper level than simple trust in a relationship.  It's harder to explain than I anticipated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I am beginning to ramble and failing to say things as eloquently as I would like to.  There is a lot more I could write but it's not all coming to me at this moment and I should probably return to studying for my final eventually.  If I somehow come up with more to write and I find the words to say it I will be sure to put it in here later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114056342904041305?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114056342904041305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114056342904041305&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114056342904041305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114056342904041305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/02/my-two-cents.html' title='My Two Cents'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-114004412589340583</id><published>2006-02-15T17:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T17:55:48.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Again</title><content type='html'>So I'm not nearly as good at updating this journal as I would like to be.  I have this tendency to think to myself, "wow, I should really write about that" and then either forget to write it down in the journal or decide that it is not something I want the general public to know.  I decided that it was time to update, however, because I seem to be in a blah mood.  I get like this on Wednesdays, they don't seem like "real days",  it's hard to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was Valentine's Day for anyone who can't figure that out from the date at the top of this post.  I had a lot of fun yesterday even though it wasn't a stereotypical Valentine's Day.  By stereotypical I mean that there wasn't the whole romantic dinner for two with roses and candlelight; that's ok with me though.  Zach and I went to dinner and ended up going on an adventure, which was a ton of fun.  The drive, total, ended up being about an hour and a half simply to go to Cracker Barrel.  I have a lot of fun with him; I've found that not only can I joke around with him but I can actually have intelectual conversations (I usually lose those).  He makes me smile a lot, like right now... so what, I'm a dork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The quarter is coming to a close and I have a lot due on Friday; I hope I can stay on track and get that finished.  The quarter coming to an end means that break is inching closer.  It will be nice to go home for break, to get away.  I'm beginning to go stir crazy being here, which is the main contributor to my current mood.  At the same time though, I don't want to leave Rose; this seems to be the general trend around break time.  I need to work over break because I desperately need money; it's sad how much I have spent.  But at least over break I get to spend time with Clare, who I miss terribly; and is apparently sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got distracted from this post so I will write more later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-114004412589340583?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/114004412589340583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=114004412589340583&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114004412589340583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/114004412589340583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/02/again.html' title='Again'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113871710535524022</id><published>2006-01-31T09:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T09:18:41.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time</title><content type='html'>So apparently I am a different person now than I was a month ago...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113871710535524022?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113871710535524022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113871710535524022&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113871710535524022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113871710535524022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/01/time.html' title='Time'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113863002505566258</id><published>2006-01-30T09:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T00:47:52.223-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Short</title><content type='html'>I have to finish getting ready for class so I don't have much time to write, but I wanted to note something.  I hope I am not as petty and shallow as people around me.  Things that I believe should be taken seriously is taken like a game for some people, which is fine if it suits them but it doesn't suit me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As an additional comment, I have been in an extremely weird mood recently, more laid back.. not depressed because it's not to that extreme but perhaps something along those lines.  I was originally attributing it to being a "girl thing" but I know that's not it anymore.  Meh has been the word of the day for a few days now..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113863002505566258?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113863002505566258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113863002505566258&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113863002505566258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113863002505566258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/01/short.html' title='Short'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113807450084570464</id><published>2006-01-23T22:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T09:05:14.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ill</title><content type='html'>So Anne feels sick&lt;br /&gt;and is sad cause she feels sick&lt;br /&gt;and is lonely cause she tried to feel better by shutting herself in&lt;br /&gt;and is sad cause she is lonely and bored&lt;br /&gt;it's a bad cycle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113807450084570464?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113807450084570464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113807450084570464&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113807450084570464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113807450084570464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/01/ill.html' title='Ill'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113798724101900140</id><published>2006-01-22T21:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T22:39:44.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update Please</title><content type='html'>So it's been a long time since I journaled and I felt the sudden urge to write something other than my research paper (not that I'm really writing much for that now anyway).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To start off, to vent to my online journal, I want to mention last night.  There is no use in going into detail about it, because I know what I know and what I don't know I don't care to know (yeah, try following that one).  Whatever happened happened and while I am not proud of myself for it, and while I feel horrible for putting people in a situation I know I would not like to be in (which I am greatful for), I learned from my mistakes.  The anger I have towards myself for it, and the physical pain I am currently going through has made me realize that I will never drink that much again.  I knew my limits, I just didn't know I had reached my limits.  But that's over and done with, I feel better now, I can almost be ok with it and laugh at myself for it, there's nothing I can do about it now except use the information I gained in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School is annoying the shit out of me.  I hate classes, and I hate homework.  I love Rose because of the people here and it sucks that Rose itself is keeping me from spending a lot of time with these people.  I know that I am here to get a good education, and I am eternally greatful for the opportunity I have been given, but it sucks what you have to go through to get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am questioning my choice for a career.   Ok, questioning is the wrong term to use because I don't know what I want for a career, but I'm wondering if engineering is right for me.  I don't want to spend my life in a cubicle, I would get bored off my ass.  I don't know if I would even be good at engineering.  I second guess myself a lot, random thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was really nice the other night to talk to Kristen, it's been a while since I had true uninhibited "girl talk", although... everything I said to Kristen didn't necessarily stay with Kristen, which honestly doesn't bother me beyond the fact that it just makes me feel a tad uncomfortable/embarassed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am taking things one day at a time because I'm scared.  I've always been scared of the future, because it means having goals, because it means having hopes and expectations.  I don't want to expect anything because I don't want to be let down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than previously mentioned complaints, things are good in the world of Anne.  I'm really happy, I've been smiling a lot lately =).  I could go into detail of why I've been smiling but&lt;br /&gt;1.  anyone who reads this probably already knows, and if they don't know me well enough to know something that simple, then maybe they shouldn't be reading my journal.&lt;br /&gt;and 2.  Then I feel sappy and corny for writing about being happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, I think I'm through...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113798724101900140?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113798724101900140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113798724101900140&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113798724101900140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113798724101900140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/01/update-please.html' title='Update Please'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113692735379342558</id><published>2006-01-10T15:43:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T16:51:13.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustration</title><content type='html'>I spent a good amount of time yesterday doing those stupid journal entries and ended up not posting a single one of them.  They're the ones where you're given a list of 100 things and you bold the ones that are true about you, or you answer completely pointless questions.  While those surveys may give some kind of insight into the mind of Anne, and give pertinent information, I still find them completely useless.  Some of the questions are appropriate, but others... such as "which do you prefer, adidas or nike?" are so trivial and won't actually give insight into my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The real purpose of this post was not to talk about the several hours I wasted yesterday answering meaningless questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that people feel everyone else's business must also be theirs.  I understand by having this blog I allow anyone with access to the internet to read my personal feelings (most of which I tend to leave out for that exact reason).  While I allow people to read this, and while I tell people things beyond the journal entries, that does not mean I am giving people permission to meddle in my life.  I do not want people to tell me how to live my life.  I have done that, lived by following others, I won't do it again.  I don't want people to tell me why I made the decisions I made.  They are my decisions, no one elses, and obviously I know why I made them.  I realize people are going to think what they want about me and about things I have done, but unless I ask for an opinion, I don't need to be told one.  As arrogant as it sounds for me to say, it's my life.  And as even more arrogant it sounds for me to say, people need to know their place.  I fail to see how my decisions are affecting people who I no longer speak to.  I let people into my life who I truly care about.  Those are the people I tell things to, the people I trust, the people's who's opinions matter to me, but my opinion matters most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An addition to the post:  Recently I was listening to a song by Panic! At the Disco and this line came up that I liked, "I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck", don't ask me why I like it, it just stuck out to me.  So being hyper I was talking to Ashlee and said I was going to make it my away message, and it ended up being that I should make it my profile, so I did, not thinking anything about it, there's nothing to be thought.  I'm not saying that's about me, or anyone else for that matter, just that I liked the line.  Well, apparently there are people who don't like it.  Now these people don't mention anything to me, they don't ask me questions, no... they fucking make assumptions.  Because that is my profile, these people (mind you I don't know who they are) have decided that I am a bitch.  Well whoever you are, if you fucking care about me you can ask me and not make fucking asumptions and make me into the person you want me to be so you can have an excuse to fucking hate me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113692735379342558?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113692735379342558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113692735379342558&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113692735379342558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113692735379342558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/01/frustration_10.html' title='Frustration'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113644385704952502</id><published>2006-01-05T01:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-05T01:56:46.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Stuff</title><content type='html'>I spent a few hours tonight looking over the old journal and deviantart site reminiscing about the past few years.  My thoughts and feelings have changed since then and reading some of the stuff was actually difficult.  It's hard to believe I once held in that much hate and sadness.   The old poetry was particurally depressing.  When I wrote it was either out of sadness or pain, mainly pain.  Reading it all took me back and I'd rather not have those feelings again.  It took me a long time to move past those emotions and it would not be good to set myself in that position again.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I was headed back in that direction - not at all.  It would take a lot more than reading old stuff to ever set me back that far, or at all.  I'm honestly happy now, in so many ways I never thought I could be.  Parts of me are still not 100% happy but I don't think it's normal for every part of a person to be happy.  If you are never sad, never angry, how can you ever truly know happiness?  You can't find out what's good if you don't have something to compare it to.  I don't really know where I was headed with this post but I'm tired so I think it's time for me to head off to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113644385704952502?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113644385704952502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113644385704952502&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113644385704952502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113644385704952502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/01/old-stuff.html' title='Old Stuff'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113617977626458173</id><published>2006-01-02T00:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T00:29:36.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Tests</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#98FB98;"&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are 40% Weird&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#CAFBCA"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/howweirdareyouquiz/weird-3.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normal enough to know that you're weird...&lt;br /&gt;But too damn weird to do anything about it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howweirdareyouquiz/"&gt;How Weird Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#FF9900;"&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are Not Scary&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFD79A"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/howscaryareyouquiz/not-scary.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone loves you. Isn't that sweet?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howscaryareyouquiz/"&gt;How Scary Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEE9E9;"&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Keys to Your Heart&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFAFA"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/keystoyourheartquiz/heart.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would be forced to break up with someone who was insecure and in constant need of reassurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your ideal relationship is comforting. You crave a relationship where you always feel warmth and love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think of marriage as something precious. You'll treasure marriage and treat it as sacred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this moment, you think of love as something you can get or discard anytime. You're feeling self centered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/keystoyourheartquiz/"&gt;What Are The Keys To Your Heart?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEE9E9;"&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Seduction Style: Prized Object&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFAFA"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatkindofseducerareyouquiz/prized-object.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seduction game you play is tried, true, and still effective: hard to get.&lt;br /&gt;You know that the best seducers turn the tables - and get their crush to seduce them.&lt;br /&gt;The one running has the power, and you're a challenge that is worth the chase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a master of enticing and pulling back. Giving a little and taking some away.&lt;br /&gt;You are controlled enough to know rewards come after a long seduction dance.&lt;br /&gt;Even though you want to call, email, or say "I love you" first - you don't!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're style is the perfect mix of hot and cold - so much so that you have many suitors.&lt;br /&gt;Think Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany's ... or any of those creepy guys from the Bachelor.&lt;br /&gt;You're skilled at inspiring a chase. The real test is picking the person to slow down for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofseducerareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Seducer Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113617977626458173?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113617977626458173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113617977626458173&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113617977626458173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113617977626458173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2006/01/random-tests.html' title='Random Tests'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113592261982384656</id><published>2005-12-30T01:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T00:56:01.060-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Something I realized in talking to people over break...&lt;br /&gt;I am a very honest person but sometimes if you want to know something, you have to ask.  I will always tell the truth, but sometimes I am not the kind of person to bring something up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113592261982384656?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113592261982384656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113592261982384656&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113592261982384656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113592261982384656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/something-i-realized-in-talking-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113494364863007402</id><published>2005-12-18T17:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T17:58:30.303-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blue and Yellow</title><content type='html'>I love this song too much to stop listening to it, even though it became my sad song a long time ago.  No matter what mood I am in when I listen to this song it can always calm me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;and it's all in how you mix the two&lt;br /&gt;and it starts just where the light exists&lt;br /&gt;it's a feeling that you cannot miss&lt;br /&gt;and it burns a hole through everyone that feels it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well you're never gonna find it&lt;br /&gt;if you're looking for it&lt;br /&gt;won't come your way&lt;br /&gt;well you'll never find it&lt;br /&gt;if you're looking for it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;should've done something but I've done it enough&lt;br /&gt;by the way your hands were shaking&lt;br /&gt;rather waste some time with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and you never would have thought in the end&lt;br /&gt;how amazing it feels just to live again&lt;br /&gt;it's a feeling that you cannot miss&lt;br /&gt;it burns a hole through everyone that feels it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well you're never gonna find it&lt;br /&gt;if you're looking for it&lt;br /&gt;won't come your way&lt;br /&gt;well you'll never find it&lt;br /&gt;if you're looking for it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;should've done something but I've done it enough&lt;br /&gt;by the way your hands were shaking&lt;br /&gt;rather waste some time with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;should've said something but I've said it enough&lt;br /&gt;by the way my words were faded&lt;br /&gt;rather waste some time with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113494364863007402?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113494364863007402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113494364863007402&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113494364863007402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113494364863007402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/blue-and-yellow.html' title='Blue and Yellow'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113470901658737525</id><published>2005-12-15T23:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T23:56:56.596-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot and Sweaty</title><content type='html'>So, tonight was my first night of actually making it to IM volleyball, holy crap I miss volleyball.  Since I was like 8, volleyball is just something I have been good at.  It's frustrating to play when there are a lot of people because I don't get to play as much but it's still fun.  As much as I hate feeling like I need to shower, I love getting really sweaty and gross from playing volleyball.  I always feel so accomplished if I come from playing volleyball and I can barely breathe and I'm bright red and sweating.  It's a great way to forget about things and to take out any agression I might have.  I found out that Rose has a spring volleyball team and I think I might be going out for that.  But for right now, I will be going to bed very happy for a number of reasons =).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113470901658737525?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113470901658737525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113470901658737525&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113470901658737525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113470901658737525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/hot-and-sweaty.html' title='Hot and Sweaty'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113462108882348648</id><published>2005-12-14T23:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T23:34:31.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Change</title><content type='html'>I find the idea that the more things change the more they stay the same very true right now.  Even though things have changed, even though I have changed, deep down I am still the same old Anne.  I have reverted to my common doubting Anne, for reasons I won't even begin to say here.  If anyone actually cares enough, I'll be willing to talk about it, but I'm not simply going to list the faults I see in myself here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113462108882348648?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113462108882348648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113462108882348648&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113462108882348648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113462108882348648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/change.html' title='Change'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113452706811583214</id><published>2005-12-13T21:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T21:24:28.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life isn't always fair</title><content type='html'>this sucks, I don't have class tomorrow until 1:30, it's 9:00 and I'm bored off my ass! &lt;br /&gt;I wish I could write about something but I can't focus enough because I am hyper.&lt;br /&gt;I need something to do, and homework is out of the question because that's what I have been doing up until this point.&lt;br /&gt;I'm contemplating going running, even though I hate running and only do it when I am pissed off (it's a great way to take out agression), but since I'm not pissed off I don't want to run, but it would be a good way to expend energy.&lt;br /&gt;^These are the circles I have been running my mind in for the past few freaking hours!&lt;br /&gt;I'd love to say that all is fine and dandy in the world of Anne but I am far too much of a perfectionist for things to ever be that way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113452706811583214?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113452706811583214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113452706811583214&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113452706811583214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113452706811583214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/life-isnt-always-fair.html' title='Life isn&apos;t always fair'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113435011660091962</id><published>2005-12-11T19:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-11T22:18:13.936-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hazy</title><content type='html'>I don't really know what to feel right now.  I honestly can't seem to motivate myself for school this quarter, and none of my classes seem to be pushing me to motivate myself, and I'm so afraid that it will come back to bite me in the ass.  I don't feel like I am working this quarter, and I should be.  Basically my goal for this is as follows:&lt;br /&gt;I am going to try to motivate myself in the week I have left, where I will have a test in at least three of my four classes, and if that doesn't work then I will motivate myself during/after Christmas break for sure.&lt;br /&gt;Meh, enough about school for right now, I finished most of my homework and I will start reading for the last part after I finish writing in here.&lt;br /&gt;This weekend was interesting to say the least, but interesting in a good way.  I was planning on giving a run through of my weekend but that would take way more time than I care to spend writing on this but instead I think I shall just write about anything random that pops to my mind about this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;Despite everything I held against it for a long time, I did drink this weekend at Sexy Santa and I did have fun.  I don't think I really got drunk, just happy and tipsy, although I did learn that alcohol and heels don't mix well (my feet are killing me).&lt;br /&gt;I spent a lot of time this weekend with Zach, and by a lot of time I mean practically the whole weekend.  I really like him, he makes me smile a lot and I enjoy spending time with him.  Despite the fact that I talked to him a little bit about it, our "relationship" still confuses me.  I remember him telling me sometime that he doesn't like titles but sometimes I think they make things less complicated, at least when it comes to me because then I know what is going on.  I was with him when two different people asked him if we were dating and he said "I guess", which seeing as how difinitive of an answer that is I think I can justify my confusion.  He makes me smile a lot.&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward to break but at the same time I don't know if I am.  It's going to be weird going home and I know I am going to miss people here.  I will get to hang out with Kelley over this break, which should be fun, and hopefully with people from high school who I didn't see over thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;I don't really know what else to write about right now, hopefully I will be able to write more later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  If anyone reads this, feel free to comment on it.  I would love insight and it would be interesting to see if anyone even reads it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113435011660091962?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113435011660091962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113435011660091962&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113435011660091962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113435011660091962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/hazy.html' title='Hazy'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113408467448107352</id><published>2005-12-08T18:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T18:31:14.490-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Irony</title><content type='html'>I find it very ironic that I am writing a journal online to avoid doing a project about online addictions such as blogging.... Maybe it's just me though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided that I am weird, and not necessarily in a good way.  I don't know, I say I just decided this but truth be told I'm sure I already knew it.  Maybe people see it differently, and obviously it's not too bad cause there are at least a handful of people who like me, right?  I don't know, today has been like a mini roller coaster.  I haven't been depressed or anything but I did semi-crash.  I was realllly excited when I was walking back from class because it was snowing.  I adore snow, I feel pretty in snow, call me strange but I do.  It's something with the snow in my hair, I can't explain it and I really don't want to try.  Now though, I'm calm, almost tired, something along those lines. Meh, don't want to type but don't want to do homework.&lt;br /&gt;Kelley and I have a girl coming tonight for SWE and she is going to stay with us over night.  We thought it would be funny if we had a huge sleepover in our room that basically invloved a lot of guys sleeping on the floor, but then we decided that might be mean and she might feel uncomfortable.  Hopefully this girl doesn't value sleep or quiet because she probably won't be getting either of them.  Meh, typing a lot, I dont want to type a lot because that means there is a lot to read, although I doubt that many if any people read this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More sometime later&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113408467448107352?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113408467448107352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113408467448107352&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113408467448107352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113408467448107352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/irony.html' title='Irony'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113401538699029961</id><published>2005-12-07T23:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T23:16:26.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mood</title><content type='html'>I am in an unbelievably good mood... it's amazing&lt;br /&gt;You see, I got to sleep late today so I got a lot of sleep, I had homework but I decided that I got enough of it done and I didn't care, then I went shopping with Kelley and got the rest of my Sexy Santa outfit, which I love by the way.  So I came back to Blum in a good mood, finished my homework, then did laundry (yay for having clean clothes again).  Then, I cleaned my room.  As stupid as it sounds, cleaning makes me happy.  I'm not as tidy as I would like to be but I looove having a clean room, so having this amazingly clean room has put the biggest smile on my face.  That and I have just been in a generally good mood recently, it's pretty awesome. =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113401538699029961?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113401538699029961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113401538699029961&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113401538699029961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113401538699029961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/mood.html' title='Mood'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113383937015936380</id><published>2005-12-05T22:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-05T22:22:50.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Confusion</title><content type='html'>3rd post in two days, actually one day, i rock =)&lt;br /&gt;kinda sorta&lt;br /&gt;I understand the concept of time, of waiting, but at the same time that doesn't mean I like it.  I don't like feeling like I need to hide my feelings.  I understand why I am waiting, I don't want people to think I don't.  At the same time it just sucks.  I just don't see why it is such a bad thing right now.  Kelley and I were talking last night about how sometimes the best way to deal with something is to deal with it with someone who understands what you are going through.  I honestly wish I knew what to say here, I have so many thoughts in my head but I can't seem to make any of them come into words.  I hate bringing it up because I not only feel like I am a pest, but also because it means that I am putting myself out in the open.  I guess that it all comes down to me wanting something, but then again I suppose everyone is always wanting something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113383937015936380?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113383937015936380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113383937015936380&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113383937015936380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113383937015936380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/confusion.html' title='Confusion'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113381670485910014</id><published>2005-12-05T15:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-05T22:10:18.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Quotes from the Old Journal I Find Oddly Appropriate</title><content type='html'>I actually really hurt myself today, all joking aside. It's better now, but i had my razor on the outside of my shower tote thing and i was hanging it up and my razor sliced my arm a couple of times. As of this moment it's just really red and it hurts like a bitch. :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe when I'm done with endings this can begin"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Left the only worries I had in my hands&lt;br /&gt;Away from the light in my eyes&lt;br /&gt;Holding tight and try not to hide how i feel"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We've hurt ourselves, and I feel the sting ofbroken hearts and burning wings... ".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But a smile never grins without tears to begin&lt;br /&gt;For each kiss is a cry we all lost"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But you can let it keep you weighted down. You must go on"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113381670485910014?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113381670485910014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113381670485910014&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113381670485910014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113381670485910014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/random-quotes-from-old-journal-i-find.html' title='Random Quotes from the Old Journal I Find Oddly Appropriate'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19585613.post-113376170543083016</id><published>2005-12-05T00:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-05T00:48:25.443-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Beginning</title><content type='html'>The old journal seemed to not be suiting me too well so I decided to start something new.  Anyone who knows me can testify to the fact that I suck at updating these kind of things.  Writing always seems to help me but there is so much of me that is hesitant to let the entire world into my feelings.  I have a hard enough time letting people I trust read what I am truly thinking.  Honestly, there isn't one person who knows everything about me.  Different people know different things.  It's not so much that there are things I don't want to tell people things, it's just that a lot of things don't come up in conversation.  I've decided that I have learned things at college, things not involving science and math and engineering:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  It's possible for me to have a &lt;em&gt;group&lt;/em&gt; of friends.  I'm so used to simply having a very close friends and a large group of acquantences (yes I spelled that wrong).  After coming here I have found a group of friends, such that I can hang out with all of them and never feel left out, one of my biggest pet peeves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  College is more work than I anticipated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Not so much something I realized but something that I am glad about.  For a long time Kelley and I weren't talking civily, if at all.  Now, I don't know what exactly changed but things are back to normal.  We have that weird crazy relationship I was used to in high school.  It's so amazing to talk to her until 4 in the morning again.  Honestly, I have always trusted Kelley and her advice and recently her advice has been very helpful.  I have this problem where I hate to make decisions so I try to make other people do them for me, try being the operative word.  In things when I need to make my own choices I do, sometimes it's hard but I do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Sometimes you have to watch out for yourself.  I have always, and probably will always, be the mom for my friends.  I take care of them, and knowing that my friends are happy makes me happy.  I'm not going to lie, I am an ultimate people pleaser.  I hate thinking that people are mad at me or people are upset because of my actions.  But watching out for other people means that I often put myself on the back burner.  With Lindsay and all of her "problems" I have had to put myself on the back burner for a long time, 5 or 6 years almost.  One thing I hate, absoluteley HATE, is when I am trying to talk to someone, simply so there is someone who is listening, and they listen to what I have to say and then tell me that their problems are worse.  I don't fucking care how bad your problems are, who are you to diminish what I am feeling simply because it is not worse than what is wrong with you.  (random bitter moment, I applogize)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  No matter how much I tried to admit it would happen, I have changed since coming to Rose.  When looking forward to college and thinking that I would change I refused to admit that it would happen simply because I only saw it as a bad thing, but it's not.  I fail to see how the way I have changed is a bad thing.  Honestly, I see it as a good thing.  I am happier here (for the most part) than I have been in a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  All the people I got mad at, refused to listen to, and swore were wrong.... yeah, they were right.  College is a time to find yourself, without being held down.  I was presented with freedom that I was not accustomed to and I really enjoy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  This isn't something I realized but something I need to work on.  I need to be more upfront, let people know how I feel.  I wait because I am afraid of what people will think or feel, but I need to learn to put myself out there and not be scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  I really want things to work out.  I know I just have to see where things go but I'm not going to lie, there is a way I would prefer for it to work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I officially ran out of things to say, hopefully the next entry will be less than a week away but as I mentioned, I suck at these things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19585613-113376170543083016?l=soakingin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/feeds/113376170543083016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19585613&amp;postID=113376170543083016&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113376170543083016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19585613/posts/default/113376170543083016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soakingin.blogspot.com/2005/12/new-beginning.html' title='A New Beginning'/><author><name>Anne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12393413949579551854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~hawkina1/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
