<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584</id><updated>2007-05-20T02:10:09.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>pshaw</title><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default'></link><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/atom.xml'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-6498052643732369475</id><published>2007-05-20T02:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T02:10:09.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i am silly irresponsible</title><content type='html'>hello&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i overdraft money from my bank account, i sleep whenever and however long i feel like, i mooch, i insult, i search for people's weaknesses and exploit them, oh inconsiderate me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate having to be responsible for myself.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/05/i-am-silly-irresponsible.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/6498052643732369475'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/6498052643732369475'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-8479199484021352474</id><published>2007-05-06T02:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T03:56:51.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'>inconsiderate and naive of me.</title><content type='html'>do i think of people as often (or as little) as they think of me? do they think of me as often as i think of them? am i a good person? what have i given to the world? does it matter? if there really is a god, nothing makes sense. isn't the concept of two separate genders strange? the primary purpose of living is to prolong existence. each unit is exhaustible. create a duplicate of yourself. and you live forever. asexual reproduction makes much more sense. anyway. whatever. why do i think so hard on it? i have too little facts to begin with. why do people want to be president so badly? it's like wanting to be the babysitter of the biggest fattest whiniest most problematic and selfish baby. do these people really think they can make the world a better place? is their vision so great? what kinds of medications do they take to keep themselves from being overwhelmed by a world so terrible? i am thankful and grateful to them alright, for letting me live my sheep pasture life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thankful and grateful as christians are to their god, i suppose. oh how i muse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's strange to be all alone. i can do whatever i want. i look at the floor and the floor is dirty. i can use the vacuum right now at 3:30 in the morning. the dirty floor bothers me right now, and i dont have to hold off my own just for myself personal desire to clean it as i please to please only myself. if someone else were home, they'd probably be asleep and i'd have to hold off using the vacuum so as to not disturb their sleep. but is it not my desire to wish them a peaceful night's rest? i would not be happy to have someone i love and care for and respect to be disrespected, no matter how slight. am i fighting myself? is it win-win? or does part of me lose? do i weight pros and cons and round up/down? i don't know. it doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can i compare this vacuum situation to god's morals/commandments?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont want to disturb the slumberer so i wont use the vacuum.&lt;br /&gt;i love god so i wont break his commandments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;somehow this was all supposed to have some kind of conclusion that would yield to some practical purpose for application to real life but a lot of my late night thoughts never do.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/05/inconsiderate-and-naive-of-me.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/8479199484021352474'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/8479199484021352474'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-5389717661505855053</id><published>2007-05-03T18:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T18:04:02.085-07:00</updated><title type='text'>drink</title><content type='html'>i need something to drink&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;btw the cockroaches came from a warehouse in california. it's funny and gross.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/05/drink.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/5389717661505855053'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/5389717661505855053'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-4927573396336669525</id><published>2007-05-02T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-02T22:15:52.554-07:00</updated><title type='text'>anxiety disorder</title><content type='html'>i feel jumpy and nervous. with the warm weather comes the cockroaches. oh, disgusting things of mother nature's perverted side. i dont know what to do.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/05/anxiety-disorder.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/4927573396336669525'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/4927573396336669525'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-7626528243383249257</id><published>2007-04-20T12:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T12:23:54.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a farewell</title><content type='html'>the prime of my youth withers away under a thick cloud of boredom&lt;br /&gt;i am trapped in a world of no laughter or song&lt;br /&gt;the only window out is through an electronical box&lt;br /&gt;in which i can see out but no one will see in&lt;br /&gt;to save me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a lack of higher education and self-discipline hinders&lt;br /&gt;the prime of my youth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today i die&lt;br /&gt;adieu, adieu</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/04/farewell.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/7626528243383249257'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/7626528243383249257'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-1960598786044745150</id><published>2007-04-18T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T21:08:27.871-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yesterday and today</title><content type='html'>yesterday was a great day. i was full of energy, boisterously happy for no reason, and i got a lot done. today i feel like shit. i've hardly done anything. i slept for most of the day. i read the plays they posted up written by the virginia tech shooter. poor messed up kid. and byu actually wants dick cheney to speak at byu. wtf. dad is very sick. sally is very sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just want to be a character in a charlotte bronte novel.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/04/yesterday-and-today.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/1960598786044745150'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/1960598786044745150'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-2558801222305462987</id><published>2007-04-18T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T20:54:21.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>defense mechanism</title><content type='html'>the bugs around my house have a good defense mechanism. i call it looking dead. they look dead, so i think they are dead, and i don't give them another thought. then they start moving, and i realize they are not dead at all.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/04/defense-mechanism.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/2558801222305462987'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/2558801222305462987'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-2185591744338662226</id><published>2007-04-17T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T20:32:30.628-07:00</updated><title type='text'>charlotte bronte</title><content type='html'>i am reading &lt;em&gt;vilette&lt;/em&gt; by charlotte bronte. i like the bronte sisters. i, too, often feel like a homely young woman out of place with the worldly world. i like the funny flowery way they write. they do it so well! i am too lazy to make myself seem more interesting than i am.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/04/charlotte-bronte.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/2185591744338662226'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/2185591744338662226'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-2210443644266155762</id><published>2007-04-15T00:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-15T00:47:53.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>nyquil</title><content type='html'>jesus fucking christ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dad's sick and for some reason it's hard for me to have sympathy for sick people. i've been sick before. i know how much it sucks. but all i can think is, why are you so dead and lifeless. either go to bed or wake the fuck up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and why are animes so goddamn serious. adult swim should only play the cool shows. why do all the women have stupid huge ass boobs? why? so fucking stupid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;celexa and advil and nyquil put me to sleep for 14 hours. i live off of frozen and microwavable foods. i smoke too much. there's nowhere to go, nothing to do in this boringass town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't handle violence in movies anymore. natural born killers is shit crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life Alert! Help, I've fallen and I can't get up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shin Chan is kickass shit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it makes me very mad at myself that i don't know everything and that i'm not the best at everything that i do know. so you see, i have this jealous sea oozing out of my ears and eyes and nose. bloo de ploo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want a nice comfortable pair of loafers</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/04/nyquil.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/2210443644266155762'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/2210443644266155762'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-6963293589957887575</id><published>2007-04-13T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-13T19:02:58.284-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'></category><title type='text'>why poetry is dumb</title><content type='html'>Here I am again&lt;br /&gt;Sitting on the driveway&lt;br /&gt;, nice weather,&lt;br /&gt;watching the kiddies play&lt;br /&gt;smoking camel lights&lt;br /&gt;until i feel like I'm&lt;br /&gt;dying&lt;br /&gt;Nothing to do&lt;br /&gt; nowhere to go&lt;br /&gt;Art is boring&lt;br /&gt;So damn self-conscious&lt;br /&gt;perfect fine black ash&lt;br /&gt;Perfect things are so smothering&lt;br /&gt;Like Vesuvius&lt;br /&gt;Like jealousy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Right becomes 100%&lt;br /&gt;so does Wrong!&lt;br /&gt;I'll sew today, only for&lt;br /&gt;myself&lt;br /&gt;I'll watch TV tonight&lt;br /&gt;Entertaining myself&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had a friend to&lt;br /&gt;smoke with&lt;br /&gt;My tummy like a perfect&lt;br /&gt;round mustard colored&lt;br /&gt;squash!&lt;br /&gt;Oh, my favorite programs&lt;br /&gt;are not on tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Big cars big money big egos&lt;br /&gt;Eggos</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/04/why-poetry-is-dumb.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/6963293589957887575'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/6963293589957887575'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-5278049865600407917</id><published>2007-03-22T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T01:41:23.527-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='f word'></category><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='babysitting'></category><title type='text'>what is the meaning of life</title><content type='html'>thunderstorms and heavy rains. i feel exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i accidentally said the f word with jo in the car. but she only laughed. which i like that she did. spent a lot of money today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am stuck babysitting jo. i'm hungry. i want to go out and buy a set of nice markers. not to eat, but to decorate jo's spongebob squarepants birthday card with. i realized i don't have any markers. how can one live without markers? nothing looks appetizing anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm going to go see if the shirt i bought dad is the same size as his other shirts. medium looked too big.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/03/what-is-meaning-of-life.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/5278049865600407917'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/5278049865600407917'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-7465342963711494685</id><published>2007-03-15T03:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T01:39:33.120-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='swimming'></category><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pretty girl'></category><title type='text'>how gentle my life</title><content type='html'>i went swimming today. there was this other girl there with her little girl and i thought the girl was pretty and seemed like she'd be a nice person. the little girl too. i wanted to make friends but i am shy so i didn't.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/03/i-went-swimming-today.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/7465342963711494685'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/7465342963711494685'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5384901566342426584.post-6362135199684894523</id><published>2007-04-09T01:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T01:33:24.923-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='babysitting'></category><title type='text'>i hate kids</title><content type='html'>i know i know i know i was once their age and quite possibly as annoying as they are. and i admit they can be fun for a while. but at the end of the day, all i can think is, god, i wish they'd go away.</content><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pshaw.echoing.org/2007/04/i-hate-kids.html'></link><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/6362135199684894523'></link><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5384901566342426584/posts/default/6362135199684894523'></link><author><name>kacie</name></author></entry></feed>