<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457</id><updated>2009-08-27T21:08:30.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'>&lt;3Heart on Her Sleeve</title><subtitle type='html'>I can't do this all on my own, no I'm no, I'm no Superman...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>157</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-7157360897908299917</id><published>2009-06-14T00:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T01:00:01.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My mind filled with wonder, my heart with fright...</title><content type='html'>Why is it that I resort back to that place?&lt;br /&gt;The one I thought I was past, moved on from?&lt;br /&gt;It's quite a reality that I will always have a part of me that wonders, "what if?"&lt;br /&gt;However, I know that I'm okay with the outcome.  I just don't understand, why sometimes my mind wanders, it strays.  It goes from what it knows, into the depths of it's very own and pulls from everything I thought it had stored away for good.  It hurts a bit.  Not sure if the past hurts, or if the fact that my mind does this to me that hurts?  I think the latter.  However, there are times when I need to take a deep breath in and realize that today is my reality, this is, this very moment.  This is what counts, this is what matters, and this is what is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-7157360897908299917?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/7157360897908299917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=7157360897908299917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/7157360897908299917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/7157360897908299917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-mind-filled-with-wonder-my-heart.html' title='My mind filled with wonder, my heart with fright...'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-4723638447733270583</id><published>2009-05-28T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T21:43:40.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A voyagers' thoughts</title><content type='html'>I sit quietly&lt;br /&gt;Quiet with my own thoughts&lt;br /&gt;rolling like waves through my mind&lt;br /&gt;toppling over any other entity in the water&lt;br /&gt;taking over&lt;br /&gt;taking over anything that I once knew&lt;br /&gt;things I thought I wanted, needed&lt;br /&gt;bringing me to new depths&lt;br /&gt;uncharted territory&lt;br /&gt;something new to map&lt;br /&gt;to seek out&lt;br /&gt;to venture into&lt;br /&gt;creating a ripple effect&lt;br /&gt;and crashing down&lt;br /&gt;full of energy and never stopping&lt;br /&gt;reaching as high as the night sky&lt;br /&gt;and swallowing me whole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-4723638447733270583?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/4723638447733270583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=4723638447733270583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/4723638447733270583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/4723638447733270583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2009/05/voyagers-thoughts.html' title='A voyagers&apos; thoughts'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-7056123562478939425</id><published>2009-04-05T20:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T20:39:07.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If you need time away&lt;br /&gt;I won't ask you to stay&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to lose you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is crazy&lt;br /&gt;pretty baby&lt;br /&gt;take it real slow&lt;br /&gt;my feelings show&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-7056123562478939425?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/7056123562478939425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=7056123562478939425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/7056123562478939425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/7056123562478939425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2009/04/if-you-need-time-away-i-wont-ask-you-to.html' title=''/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-7340123175428809719</id><published>2008-11-25T18:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T19:16:30.129-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The waiting is the hardest part, you take it to faith, you take it to heart...</title><content type='html'>I feel like all I've done the past year is wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait for my job to lead towards my career&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait for my family to understand me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait for you to find me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait for my friends to step up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait for my heart to mend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait for my mind to quit being my worst enemy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait for my heart to slow down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait for butterflies in my stomach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait to catch my breath&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of these things I cannot control.   Most things just are.  It's hard to wrap your head around things you have no effect over, even though they effect you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying hard to change the things I can, and moving on from those I can't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are still many things that boggle my mind.  Like someone I care about can be so distant and dishonest.  Not only with me, but with themselves and others.  I'm starting to go to that place that I hate, the place of no trust and no respect.  I don't want to feel this way, and I'm working hard on moving past these things, but it's proving to be more difficult than I anticipated.  I'm not sure if you call this being the bigger person, or if I'm taking the higher road, but whatever it is, it's hard.  Hard to let the little things go, hard to know there are lies and not bring them up, hard to look them in the face and try your hardest to be a good friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess this is the stuff that they say makes us stronger, makes us wiser.  I guess in the end, I'll know if that's true.  If someday I can look back on this and know the true value of it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then, deep breaths are my only consistency.  A peaceful night my hideaway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot wait for these things, and I cannot wait for you to truly come around.  You do you, and I'll do me, and in the end, we'll see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-7340123175428809719?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/7340123175428809719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=7340123175428809719' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/7340123175428809719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/7340123175428809719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2008/11/waiting-is-hardest-part-you-take-it-to.html' title='The waiting is the hardest part, you take it to faith, you take it to heart...'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-4749979001997397403</id><published>2008-10-09T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T20:17:45.958-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I came here to type out my thoughts... and I got nothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-4749979001997397403?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/4749979001997397403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=4749979001997397403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/4749979001997397403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/4749979001997397403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-came-here-to-type-out-my-thoughts.html' title=''/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-8512010570824146468</id><published>2008-08-03T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T20:42:27.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can't do it.&lt;br /&gt;I see it there, right in front of me but for some reason I am unable&lt;br /&gt;I see those 5 letters starring me in the face.&lt;br /&gt;I can't hit send.&lt;br /&gt;I can't hit clear.&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I just call you?  Why can I not just tell you how much it hurts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are moments where I close my eyes and picture you.  You and me.&lt;br /&gt;I feel you move my hair out of my face.&lt;br /&gt;I feel your hand slowly slide down my cheek.&lt;br /&gt;My heart beats faster&lt;br /&gt;Your breathing gets deeper&lt;br /&gt;I feel the warmth of your breath get closer&lt;br /&gt;The softness of your kiss absorbs me and I am lost.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-8512010570824146468?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/8512010570824146468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=8512010570824146468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/8512010570824146468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/8512010570824146468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-cant-do-it.html' title=''/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-446670569569115286</id><published>2008-07-27T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T19:22:28.095-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Yours</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Well, you done done me and you bet I felt it&lt;br /&gt;I tried to be chill but your so hot that I melted&lt;br /&gt;I fell right through the cracks, now I'm tryin to get back&lt;br /&gt;before the cool done run out I'll be givin it my best test&lt;br /&gt;and nothin's gonna stop me but divine intervention&lt;br /&gt;I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I won't hesitate no more,&lt;br /&gt;no more, it cannot wait&lt;br /&gt;I'm yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well open up your mind and see like me&lt;br /&gt;open up your plans and damn you're free&lt;br /&gt;look into your heart and you'll find love love love love&lt;br /&gt;listen to the music of the moment people dance and sing&lt;br /&gt;We're just one big family&lt;br /&gt;And it's our godforsaken right to be loved loved loved loved loved&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, i won't hesitate no more,&lt;br /&gt;no more, it cannot wait i'm sure&lt;br /&gt;there's no need to complicate our time is short&lt;br /&gt;this is our fate&lt;br /&gt;I'm yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been spendin' way too long checkin' my tongue in the mirror&lt;br /&gt;and bendin' over backwards just to try to see it clearer&lt;br /&gt;But my breath fogged up the glass&lt;br /&gt;and so I drew a new face and I laughed&lt;br /&gt;I guess what I'd be sayin' is there ain't no better reason&lt;br /&gt;to rid yourself of vanities and just go with the seasons&lt;br /&gt;it's what we aim to do&lt;br /&gt;our name is our virtue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I won't hesitate no more,&lt;br /&gt;no more it cannot wait&lt;br /&gt;I'm yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well open up your mind and see like me&lt;br /&gt;open up your plans and damn you're free&lt;br /&gt;look into your heart and you will find that the sky is yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so please don't, please don't, please don't,&lt;br /&gt;there's no need to complicate,&lt;br /&gt;Cause our time is short&lt;br /&gt;This, this, this is our fate,&lt;br /&gt;I'm yours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-446670569569115286?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/446670569569115286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=446670569569115286' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/446670569569115286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/446670569569115286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2008/07/im-yours.html' title='I&apos;m Yours'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-1976177580622387092</id><published>2008-06-11T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T19:23:23.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;    &lt;a href="http://apps.facebook.com/bumpersticker/landings/create?sticker_id=32050822" onclick="(new Image()).src = '/ajax/ct.php?app_id=2427603417&amp;action_type=3&amp;post_form_id=0d8e9b3ac9021433e36d43cc8d36c42e&amp;position=2&amp;' + Math.random();return true"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 199px; height: 71px;" src="http://photos-d.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/genericv2/1784/30/01AwcAX3FkQaMAAAABAAAAAAAAAAA:.jpg" alt="01awcax0npsfeaaaabaaaaaaaaaaa__thumb_normal" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;      &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-1976177580622387092?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/1976177580622387092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=1976177580622387092' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/1976177580622387092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/1976177580622387092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2008/06/01awcax0npsfeaaaabaaaaaaaaaaathumbnorma.html' title=''/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-8487161587429933917</id><published>2008-04-15T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T19:59:00.961-07:00</updated><title type='text'>After Awhile You Learn to Build Your Roads on Today...</title><content type='html'>Take it one day at a time, that's what they always say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard to live by this rule.  By nature, we constantly think about what could and should be.  How do you program yourself to not worry about tomorrow and focus on today?  How do you capture every moment you have now to it's fullest, and not worry it's effects on tomorrow? My personality is definitely go-go-go.  I usually don't even have time to think about now, let alone tomorrow.  However, there are those brief moments in my day when I am all alone, silent with my own thoughts.  Or as I like to say, my own worst enemies.  My 1 hour commute to work, the lunch I eat in my car just to get away from the office, the huge breath in as I step outside for the first time in the morning.  These are when my thoughts flow.  I seem to let them get the best of me, they take over and consume me.  Only when the office phone rings, or the siren of a passing cop on the road soars by, am I thrown back into reality.  Am I allowing myself to really put my mind around my thoughts, or am I giving in to the temptation of mindless thinking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can we ever really live for today?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-8487161587429933917?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/8487161587429933917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=8487161587429933917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/8487161587429933917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/8487161587429933917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2008/04/after-awhile-you-learn-to-build-your.html' title='After Awhile You Learn to Build Your Roads on Today...'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-5600543217278136850</id><published>2008-04-12T17:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T17:51:23.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Prince Charming--he's not needed. Just some cute boy that finds me adorable, makes me laugh, and makes my knees shake...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-5600543217278136850?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/5600543217278136850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=5600543217278136850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/5600543217278136850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/5600543217278136850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2008/04/prince-charming-hes-not-needed.html' title=''/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-6297319445232901300</id><published>2008-03-30T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T19:46:57.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Freckles and Sunglasses</title><content type='html'>It's that time of year again... you know the one... snow starts to melt, sun begins to come out of hibernation, warm weather on the tip of everyone's tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makes me think about the summer--grilling, boating, laughing.  Swimsuits and sun lotion, freckles and sunglasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love anticipation.  It's one of my most favorite feelings, it comes right next to the tingly feeling in your nose, right before you sneeze.  ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have EXTREME anticipation for summer.  I feel this year it will be busier than ever.  I already have the anxiety to fit it all into 3 months! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They'll be a new baby in the family, Joleen has finally gotten her van so they'll be road trips galore!  A best friend has moved back, so this will be the first summer fun together, parents are moving, I'll be moving, I'll be flying and traveling on my benefits, possibly going back to school?  So many things to do and accomplish and I can't wait to get started!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring it on! ;0)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-6297319445232901300?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/6297319445232901300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=6297319445232901300' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/6297319445232901300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/6297319445232901300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2008/03/freckles-and-sunglasses.html' title='Freckles and Sunglasses'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-5073389089124594758</id><published>2007-10-08T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T21:37:11.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Put some new shoes on...</title><content type='html'>I love the feeling of not knowing.  Of uncertainty.  It's bitter sweet, the tingly feeling you get in your stomach when you aren't quite sure of the outcome, it excites me but at the same time makes me nauseous.  It's those times of uncertainty that make me reflect on friends, family, relationships, and everything in between. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These streets are familiar and comforting, however across the border into the big bad world, just a few hours away I could just as well stumble across another poor old soul.  I fight with myself and don't believe my eyes.  Suddenly the air smells much clearer in searching for the changes that I've lost somehow.  Where'd these days go?  Walking to town to see the landmark square only to look at the time and jet on home.  Shuffling feet on these busy streets, everyone seems to be going in opposite directions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-5073389089124594758?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/5073389089124594758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=5073389089124594758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/5073389089124594758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/5073389089124594758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/10/put-some-new-shoes-on.html' title='Put some new shoes on...'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-5405467890983108471</id><published>2007-09-04T11:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T21:11:09.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"How all the other passions fleet to air, as doubful thoughts and rash embraced despair and shuddering fear and green-eyed jealousy!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Envy is an emotion that "occurs when a person lacks another’s superior quality, achievement, or possession and desires it." They also feel that it is not possible (or not easy) for them to have what they want. Otherwise they would simply go get what the other person had, and they would be satisfied; Envy is one of the seven deadly sins.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;At the core of envy seems to be a "social comparison" that threatens a person's self-esteem: Another person has something that the envier considers to be important to have.--often rooted in the envier feeling low self-confidence, and they feel that they need to be or have the same things as others. If they don't have it, or they can't have it, they feel envy. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;However, what is envied could also be something that is only of personal importance to the &lt;em&gt;envier&lt;/em&gt;, even if what the other person has is of little significance.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;What is the purpose of Envy?  What does having envy accomplish?  At one point or another, we have all been guilty of jealousy or envy, but to what extent?  Most of us, have had a envious or jealous thought—when someone we see is dating someone we are attracted to (could be a celebrity or a friend), when one of our peers owns something we cannot afford, when those around us have better relationships than we do, or when a family member accomplishes something greater than we did.  It comes in every form.  But how far do we let these feelings go?  When are the boundaries crossed?  It seems to me that some of us don’t even notice these feelings and it is a blip in our lives, never to be thought again.  Then there are those that think about it from time to time, but don’t let it effect their lives.  And then you have those who cannot let it go.  Those people who let these feeling eat away at themselves, to fester and grow into something more.  A problem, an issue.  Resentment, betrayal, and frustration set it.  You start to feel abandoned or left behind.  You wonder why you can’t have this, why you can’t attain it.  Instead of working towards a goal you set, you begin to fall behind the anger and resentment.  You don’t move forward, you create aggression and bitterness.&lt;br /&gt;           I’m not sure why some handle this better than others or why we even have these feelings.  Most things in life are attainable; are within reach.  Hard work and strength of mind always seem to pay off.  If you want something bad enough, you can get it within reason.  Why are some willing to work for what they want and others willing to go through the agony of watching others attain success?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-5405467890983108471?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/5405467890983108471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=5405467890983108471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/5405467890983108471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/5405467890983108471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/09/how-all-other-passions-fleet-to-air-as.html' title='&quot;How all the other passions fleet to air, as doubful thoughts and rash embraced despair and shuddering fear and green-eyed jealousy!&quot;'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-4273369360564261005</id><published>2007-08-16T08:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T14:44:06.805-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh the people on the street, in buses, out on feet, we all got the same blood flow</title><content type='html'>As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love.&lt;strong&gt; So take too many pictures,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt&lt;/strong&gt; because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back. Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-4273369360564261005?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/4273369360564261005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=4273369360564261005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/4273369360564261005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/4273369360564261005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/08/oh-people-on-street-in-buses-out-on.html' title='Oh the people on the street, in buses, out on feet, we all got the same blood flow'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-4116266676627797192</id><published>2007-07-28T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T12:26:18.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Party like a Rockstar...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;Had tons of fun last night.  The kind of fun where everything was so random that you can barely piece the night together, the kind where you wander around aimlessly and end up finding each other at the end of the night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;laughing.joking.flirting.kisses.pokes.pinches.bites.slaps.smiles.licks.tickles.punches.drinks.dancing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;On the way home, James decided to open a bottle of water from my back seat and dump it on me while I was driving.  I didn't even flinch, I kept driving while flipping my hair as if in a photo shoot.  I think he mumbles something about me being the coolest chick he's ever met... does this surprise any of you? ;)  Meanwhile, I opened the bottle I had and sneakingly reached my arm into the back seat and dumped it all on him.  Soaked.  We went through an entire case of bottled water back and forth.  Childish I know.  Some may say a waste, but the laughs that entailed in our drunken debauchery were worth the case of water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;We then spent the next hour in the bathroom together drying each other off with the hair dryer... he tried to dry me in silly places... nothing happened but more laughs. He inevitably left and went to the neighbor girls place who was out with us to get his freak on.. yea!  Once again, "one of the guys" status.. why can't i ever be the pretty one, not the funny one?&lt;br /&gt;Like the other day, Matt was saying this stupid story about how he is Finish and some history about the finish. Then I said, "wow Matt, good story, are you FINISHed with it yet?" we all laughed, but that kind of stuff always puts me in the hysterical category, not the hot chick I want to do category... haha! ;)  Curse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get a call from Caleb on my way home (like 4 am) and he is sloshed! He told me he's seeing someone new blah blah blah. (Does he realize I don't care! We were dating for a short time, that's it.  Kisses aren't contracts, ya know?)  I  hung up on him after like 30 seconds of drunken slurs and asshole admissions.  He said that his friend Matt was like, "Why would you ever lose a girl like Amy? You're an idiot man, she's the best girl you've ever dated"  I was like, booyah! click.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on 3 hours of sleep I stumbled out of bed, brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, wiggled into some work clothes, made my way out of the house, only stumbling into one wall on the way out, pushing the garage door opener and racing to the door to see if I could roll under it just for fun as if I was in an action movie.  I then realized that my black dress pants were now grey with dust and I realized it wasn't as cool to roll under a door that is going up instead of down.... I was/am still loaded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;So, with no food in my belly, 4 cups of coffee under my belt, and adrenaline running high---today is proving to be an OK day....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-4116266676627797192?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/4116266676627797192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=4116266676627797192' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/4116266676627797192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/4116266676627797192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/07/party-like-rockstar.html' title='Party like a Rockstar...'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-3695708575883390387</id><published>2007-07-05T20:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T21:12:06.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Town, Summer in the City...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;I am so excited for these summer days! I am so swamped with work and planning my move into the new house that I haven't had much time to venture out and explore what this summer has to offer!  However, the past few weeks have been a whirl-wind of laughs and drinks! I've been exploring Minneapolis more than I ever have and I have found those little pockets of a fabulous city that makes me love this place more and more.  There is just something about the city lights just after sunset, building lights reflecting off the seemingly calm river water, the constant glare of headlights and tail lights all inching their way through the maze of streets and people, the business of those in a hurry and the calmness of those who are wandering.  The smell of a greasy burger as you pass by an ally-way, the cute couples holding hands as they laugh with each other after meeting for happy hour, the sounds of amps guitars and drums as you pass by a familiar venue.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;I can't wait for my summer to really take off.  I will make time for every one of my friends, new and old.  I will meet you for happy hour, head out on the boat, stop by for a quick chat, meet you at the beach, head to a show with you, attend a local sporting event, go running with you, try a new restaurant, meet up for martini's, go to the art show, walk the sculpture garden, check out the zoo, and laugh and giggle during every point along the way.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;   ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-3695708575883390387?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/3695708575883390387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=3695708575883390387' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/3695708575883390387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/3695708575883390387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/07/hot-town-summer-in-city.html' title='Hot Town, Summer in the City...'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-8438675458144299770</id><published>2007-06-29T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T19:43:09.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Expectations</title><content type='html'>Inspired by a common thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                      &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Expectations--Such a funny thing, hard to manage those little buggers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Expectations of yourself, of those around you... It's especially difficult with others, as the outcomes are totally outside of your control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Set them too high and you're bound to be disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But setting them too low isn't really fair either. Isn't there a certain standard that you should be able to expect?  You shouldn't have to lower yours because someone consistantly fails to meet them?  Should you?  I don't have many and I have proven myself to be down to earth, laid back, and just go with the flow, but is this the reason that others fail to meet them?  Am I the one you walk on? Take advantage of?  Am I the one that doesn't give you consequences which allows you to continue this way? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't ask much of anyone and I am a simple woman; affection, laughter, and honesty keep me grounded.  These are the things I give and hope for in return. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Maybe those of us who expect anything out of people are just setting ourselves up for a lifetime of disappointment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-8438675458144299770?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/8438675458144299770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=8438675458144299770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/8438675458144299770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/8438675458144299770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/06/expectations.html' title='Expectations'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-9104059241474814908</id><published>2007-06-28T17:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T17:06:08.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm the kind of ticklish that you don't even have to touch me and I start giggling...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-9104059241474814908?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/9104059241474814908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=9104059241474814908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/9104059241474814908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/9104059241474814908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/06/im-kind-of-ticklish-that-you-dont-even.html' title=''/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-7498920121660610111</id><published>2007-06-26T19:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-26T19:28:44.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feels like Tonight...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was the first night in a long time that I feel like my life is back to normal.  The past six months have been hectic to say the least and I'm still not sure what to make of them.  Ironically, tonight was spent alone- just me, my quiet yet comfortable and familiar apartment, and the cast of Law and Order SVU.  Sitting on my comfy bed,  perfectly perched atop my fluffy down comforter, tuna sandwich and bottle water within arms reach.  Flipping between the 3 channels that actually come in, only leaving SVU on commercials but timing it perfectly as to not skip a second, even though I have seen every episode a million times.  It used to feel like yesterday that I moved in here, that my girlfriends would come over and watch movies, make popcorn, gossip about every topic imaginable, then all squeeze into my bed and cuddle to watch Ace Venture or Emperors New groove for the hundredth time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt; Now, while my mind is filled with those memories, they no longer feel like yesterday.  These memories are now a blip of my past as I move on to make room for new ones.  Some with the same people and places and some with new faces. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Life is short, Break the rules, Forgive quickly, Kiss slowly, Love truly, Laugh uncontrollably, and never regret anything that made you smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we're here we should dance....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;     Live in the moment, not in fear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-7498920121660610111?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/7498920121660610111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=7498920121660610111' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/7498920121660610111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/7498920121660610111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/06/feels-like-tonight.html' title='Feels like Tonight...'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-7587773053236490583</id><published>2007-06-23T18:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-23T18:49:15.265-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Lovin'</title><content type='html'>Windows rolled down to allow for every ounce of sunshine to consume my body, hair flying uncontrollably in every direction, sunglasses perfectly placed a top my nose, music blaring as loud as "The Bu" will allow.   Right hand on steering wheel, left foot out the window.  Lyrics flowing through my entire body, smiling at every car I pass while bobbing along to my favorite songs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clouds playing hide and seek with each other behind buildings and trees, the wind blowing the softest breeze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone in the car on a summer day oh lord don't take these days away!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-7587773053236490583?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/7587773053236490583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=7587773053236490583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/7587773053236490583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/7587773053236490583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/06/summer-lovin.html' title='Summer Lovin&apos;'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-8495392651237140040</id><published>2007-06-22T20:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-23T00:09:38.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I wear my heart on my sleeve</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogContent"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;I wear my heart on my sleeve.  You can tell this from the moment you meet me.  I have been told not to change by some and others warn me that this "naive" assumption that I will not get hurt by others will burn me.  The interesting thing about building a wall of protection around yourself is that the thicker you make it, the harder it is to connect with people who want to get closer to you, or who you want to get closer to.  It puts a barrier that not only blocks out the bad but the good as well.  I have learned this in the past few months while building new friendships with others.  I have realized that my openness has allowed myself to get hurt, although minor.  Because of my minor aches and pains I closed up and shut myself down from these new found people, which only aggravates and frustrates those who truly want to get closer.  How do I know I am truly cared for?  Is it time to let down my guard a little bit to let someone in, or am I just setting myself up for more disappointment and hurt?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-8495392651237140040?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/8495392651237140040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=8495392651237140040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/8495392651237140040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/8495392651237140040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve.html' title='I wear my heart on my sleeve'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-117013014595251779</id><published>2007-01-29T20:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T20:09:05.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simplicity</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Clever thoughts roll through my mind&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wondering what tomorrow I’ll find.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To see if what I know is real&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To know the truth to what I feel&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To hold on to things that I know&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Or decide to slowly let them go &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-117013014595251779?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/117013014595251779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=117013014595251779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/117013014595251779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/117013014595251779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2007/01/simplicity.html' title='Simplicity'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-116615235319432078</id><published>2006-12-14T19:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T19:12:44.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker!</title><content type='html'>Can't wait to have a drink tonight... seriously.  I know it's a work night, but I've been exhausted for the past few weeks, and I decided... you know what, tomorrow is friday, I am wearing jeans, and if I have a hang over and bags under my eyes... I DON'T CARE!  So, I am currently getting myself dolled up and will be out on the town shortly!  Look out people who are irresponsible and are out too, cause here I come!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-116615235319432078?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/116615235319432078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=116615235319432078' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/116615235319432078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/116615235319432078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2006/12/candy-is-dandy-but-liquor-is-quicker.html' title='Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker!'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-116569055829613923</id><published>2006-12-09T10:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-09T10:55:58.336-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Uptown girl ,she's been livin in her uptown world..</title><content type='html'>Funny how you live in your own world doing everything that's normal and constant for you.  Days pass and your life stays the same, same job, same house, same car, same bills to pay.  I love when this life of mine gets an awakening.  Hanging out with great friends that you haven't seen in a long time is the most refreshing thing I can have in my life right now.  It's fun to reminisce about our college days when we would sit on my bed with a bucket of popcorn, diet coke's in hand watching the Golden Girls or the latest re run of The Nanny.  We would stay up late laughing and running around the town home instead of doing homework, we would rendezvous at The Meeting Grounds for a quick coffee or hot chocolate in my case.  Days of getting ready to go out together fill my mind as we are in my apartment--one in front of the full-length mirror, one in front of the bathroom mirror, and the other changing in the hallway.  Our casual behavior makes things comfortable, a familiar feeling.  We all have new memories, most without each other.  It's hard for me to think that we have all moved on in a sense, in completely different directions.  Communication is key, although we all let our busy lives get the best of us.   These days are needed together, all worries are forgotten, all topics are gossiped about, and laughter is in-stoppable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-116569055829613923?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/116569055829613923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=116569055829613923' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/116569055829613923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/116569055829613923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2006/12/uptown-girl-shes-been-livin-in-her.html' title='Uptown girl ,she&apos;s been livin in her uptown world..'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361457.post-116503474471636749</id><published>2006-12-01T20:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T20:45:44.740-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sail Away...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/749/679/1600/881932/amy%20kait%20captian.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/749/679/320/633257/amy%20kait%20captian.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9361457-116503474471636749?l=amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/feeds/116503474471636749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9361457&amp;postID=116503474471636749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/116503474471636749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9361457/posts/default/116503474471636749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amysuelubbesmeyer.blogspot.com/2006/12/sail-away.html' title='Sail Away...'/><author><name>A Lover, A Dreamer...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13038645558316964459</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02648843068770008935'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>