<?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-9511339</id><updated>2011-09-04T15:19:19.686-05:00</updated><title type='text'>//If I don't say this now...</title><subtitle type='html'>...I will surely break.//</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>71</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-116223354569274285</id><published>2006-10-30T12:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T15:46:48.476-05:00</updated><title type='text'>But this life offers so much more.</title><content type='html'>Yeah, the Dubai entry is gone. I don't know... it was just a bit too much than I intended to share with the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a really quiet few nights in because I've been trying to avoid my moron of a stalker. God, why am I so unlucky when it comes to the male species? All they ever seem to want to do is stalk me. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been spending the time writing a lot which I'm quite proud of. It's becoming easier for me to get my thoughts flowing which is &lt;em&gt;great&lt;/em&gt; because as you know I'm the slowest writer in the world. I actually have a surprise coming up which I'm really excited about... weeee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, not looking forward to this week. Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-116223354569274285?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/116223354569274285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=116223354569274285' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/116223354569274285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/116223354569274285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/10/cant-raise-my-voice-to-say.html' title='But this life offers so much more.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-116179902912827280</id><published>2006-10-25T12:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T05:48:50.080-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Where love that travelled far had found me.</title><content type='html'>I re-read my previous entry and &lt;em&gt;wow&lt;/em&gt;, do I suck at writing about Dubai. I'm really tempted to just delete the god forsaken thing but I won't for the time being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got out of two exams. I'm feeling pretty positive which is saying a lot considering I studied for them this morning at 5AM. Isn't it becoming apparent that I suck at getting work done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's cool and rainy outside. Cold enough to make my fingers tremble just so and my toes curl in my tennis shoes but not cold to an obnoxious, ears falling off extent (yeah, PA winters still haunt me). A blog entry about the weather in Austin, now &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; I could do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, my fucking washing machine thingy is ruining my life. I have one of those combination washer/dryers since I got stuck in a handicapped unit and the stupid shitfaced thing won't dry my laundry properly. Everything comes out looking like Steve Buscemi. No joke. I don't understand how a piece of clothing could physically (according to the laws of physics) get so wrinkled. I even tried to iron some of the laundry, but my iron is a stupid piece of crap too. I suspect it's because it cost 5 bucks from Walmart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nearly all of my clothes are wrinkled beyond recognition now. I've resorted to wearing the old shit at the bottom of my drawer. And of course the morons at the maintenance office won't tell me when and if they're ever planning on replacing the stupid piece of shit dryer. Sigh. I'm going to go curl up in my (wrinkled) bed now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-116179902912827280?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/116179902912827280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=116179902912827280' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/116179902912827280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/116179902912827280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/10/where-love-that-travelled-far-had.html' title='Where love that travelled far had found me.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-116081925134910232</id><published>2006-10-14T03:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-14T12:05:32.906-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, what a tragic way.</title><content type='html'>Moritz, where are you! Damn Five Live. It's four and I'm still up waiting for you to come on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't posted in 10 days simply because I haven't had anything interesting to talk about. I still don't, but I don't want this journal to fall by the wayside again so I'll try to churn something out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what about that Paul Robinson, huh? Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than watching Euro 2008 quals, this week has just been a barrage of school crap I needed to do. My procrastination, as usual, tended to war with the stress of work so I basically had a migraine all week. I'm just so god damn sick of studying, especially crap I could care less about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, anyway. I heard there's going to be a Fantastic Four 2 and an Iron Man movie? With &lt;em&gt;Heroes &lt;/em&gt;on TV and all these movies, it gets me thinking... what's with all the comic/superhero worship these days? It's not even like their powers are that interesting or unique. Flying? Invisibility? Super strength? Boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could have any super power, I would want the ability to speak and understand all the languages on earth. Now that would be cool. And also I'd want to be able to magically switch my shitty Ohian accent to a Scouse one. &lt;em&gt;Sound&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-116081925134910232?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/116081925134910232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=116081925134910232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/116081925134910232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/116081925134910232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/10/oh-what-tragic-way.html' title='Oh, what a tragic way.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115993492468424931</id><published>2006-10-03T21:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T17:48:59.923-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wage your war, wage your war.</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/maxim.png" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boxes arrived from Pennsylvania today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone (my ex-roommate) fucking stole my DVD recorder and I'm really fucking pissed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The delivery guy swore that there was never a DVD recorder box when he picked up the stuff. So either it spontaneously disintegrated into some realm of outer space, or &lt;em&gt;someone &lt;/em&gt;conveniently forgot to show him that particular box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I asked my ex-roommate about it she responded, "what DVD recorder?" and acted like she hadn't a clue what I was talking about. Then she proceeded to tell me that I should be grateful that she, and I quote, "ran my errands for me... out of pity".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Of course.&lt;/em&gt; This is to say that I &lt;em&gt;hadn't&lt;/em&gt; already apologized profusely for any inconveniences I caused and expressed over and over my extreme gratefulness for her help, all of which I did. But okay. Fine. Once again, I apologize that I cost you 15 fucking MINUTES of your life to point your finger and show the delivery guy where four fucking boxes were. Okay? Happy now? Go back to smoking your pot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I realize that it might seem a tad bit unfair to directly assume that it was she who stole my DVD recorder, but this is honestly just the cherry on top of &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; the fucking shit she's pulled on me. At this point, I'd trust the Devil himself over her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if it cements it any further, the delivery guy asked me out. Why would some guy who'd just stolen an expensive valuable from someone want to take that very person out to dinner? Wouldn't he, instead, want to get as far away as possible as soon as possible?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, I just really want my DVD recorder back. =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you interested in my thriving love life, I declined. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Edit:&lt;/strong&gt; Some friends just informed me that yes, indeed there is a silver Sony DVD recorder at my ex-roommate's place (missing a remote... which I just so happened to pack in another box). I don't know... should I call the cops or let karma get her ass?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115993492468424931?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115993492468424931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115993492468424931' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115993492468424931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115993492468424931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/10/wage-your-war-wage-your-war.html' title='Wage your war, wage your war.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115975593443966980</id><published>2006-10-01T20:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T21:25:34.510-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You'll find it hiding in shadows.</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/fall2006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/fall2006thumb.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's my new schedule. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So I went to get some Thai take-out today. I took a look at the menu and ordered noodles and spring rolls, then I decided (for the first time ever) to take a chance and I asked for one of the more exotic-sounding menu items. It said shrimp roll with peanut sauce so I thought, hey, that doesn't sound so bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home and opened up the take-out box, my appetite flew right out the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok... so I know I'm not exactly the best judge of food that's outside my comfort range, but I &lt;em&gt;swear &lt;/em&gt;to god it looked like there was a placenta in there. In fact, look for yourself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/shrimp.jpg" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now tell me that doesn't look like it came out of something's uterus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115975593443966980?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115975593443966980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115975593443966980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115975593443966980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115975593443966980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/10/youll-find-it-hiding-in-shadows.html' title='You&apos;ll find it hiding in shadows.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115958445973108474</id><published>2006-09-29T21:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T19:49:55.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Honey, why you calling me so late?</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/rtf.png" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fuck&lt;/em&gt; but my head hurts like a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's been an interesting week. I dropped a class for the first time ever since I started college. International communication. Ugh, I feel like throwing up just thinking about it. I barely did any of the readings and when I did, the only thing I could think was 'WTF? *cries*'. Also, he was a ridiculously harsh grader. Here is an excerpt from the introduction of my first writing assignment: &lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;In this reading, Benedict Anderson dissects the genesis of the “modern nation”as we know it. He equates it to the interaction and interdependence of capitalistic movements and print with and to the emergence of the “fatality of human linguistic diversity”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I pulled &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; out of my ass after reading the World's Most Complicated Chapter In Existence about the history of human liguistic diversity and how it led to the foundation of the modern nation. What the fuck, right? And I kept going in much the same manner for Three Fucking Pages. I spent almost an entire week trying to compose those three fucking pages and what do I get? 17 out of 40. SEVENTEEN out of fucking forty. That's like what, an F? I have never ever failed an assigment in my entire life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My pride was massively injured. So, I just dropped the godforsaken class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhh. What do you think that says about my reaction to a threat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lalapalalaza. &lt;p&gt;Some amusing pictures from this week: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/toast.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Proof that I can fuck up just about anything in the kitchen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/DSC00296.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/soccer.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Click it) This is for Tima. I love the internet. I have no freaking clue what the 'balls' window was all about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115958445973108474?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115958445973108474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115958445973108474' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115958445973108474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115958445973108474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/09/honey-why-you-calling-me-so-late.html' title='Honey, why you calling me so late?'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115906591571298841</id><published>2006-09-23T21:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-23T21:45:15.723-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Treat your life like a tragedy.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I just stare at my blog like I'm expecting it to magically update or something. Like someone will talk back one day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115906591571298841?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115906591571298841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115906591571298841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115906591571298841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115906591571298841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/09/treat-your-life-like-tragedy.html' title='Treat your life like a tragedy.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115847401904289346</id><published>2006-09-17T00:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T00:30:04.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Didn't even notice when the sky turned blue.</title><content type='html'>I decided to save 15 bucks today and I gave myself a haircut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't too bad, except I think I cut off more than I intended. I miss my longer hair.. and it's a bit choppy too. Oh well. It'll grow back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to this welcome dinner thingy tonight and met some student who lives at a co-op. He's leaving Austin in a few days and he was having a going away get-together so I tagged along. We went to the co-op first and I got a little tour and met a bunch of people then we went to this place called The Spider House. It was pretty cool. There was like a flash flood warning though so I was dragging my umbrella around everywhere. But it didn't even freaking rain&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;so I kind of just looked like an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, but there was this one guy Leo who I might go to The Fray with. Can't wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115847401904289346?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115847401904289346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115847401904289346' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115847401904289346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115847401904289346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/09/didnt-even-notice-when-sky-turned-blue.html' title='Didn&apos;t even notice when the sky turned blue.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115811895969697624</id><published>2006-09-12T22:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-23T22:13:44.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stutter something profound</title><content type='html'>Ok, I'm incredibly sleepy so I'll try to make this short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night the stupid moronic fire alarm would not shut the fuck up. My new place is actually equipped with an extra shiny fire alarm that flashes blinding white light sort of like a police siren whenever it's activated. It went off at about 1:30AM and practically gave me a brain aneurysm. Funny thing that I'd basically just spent the entire day reminiscing about freaking 9/11, I woke up thinking we'd been hit by an atom bomb or something. So I stumbled out of bed, tripped on my laptop cable and almost knocked myself out cold. Yeah, I am definitely your number one person to turn to in a state of crisis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I realized it was just the stupid fucking fire alarm and&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;trudged to my closet, taking a few minutes to contemplate the one item of clothing I wanted to keep the most in case the building really was about to go up in flames. I gave up and didn't take anything, walking out my front door to find my neighbors congregated in the hallway, where the alarm was even fucking &lt;em&gt;louder&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There isn't really a fire is there?" I yelled to some girl over the noise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Um, I hope not!" she yelled back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured that was about as good enough an answer as any so I went back into my apartment and laid on my futon until the stupid fucking alarm turned off. Which it didn't fully, by the way, until about 2:30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, since fate seems to hate me, it went off again at 5 AM.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115811895969697624?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115811895969697624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115811895969697624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115811895969697624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115811895969697624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/09/stutter-something-profound.html' title='Stutter something profound'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115792941492026019</id><published>2006-09-10T18:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-10T18:03:34.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Room for Squares</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So my father and sister left a couple days ago... I'm officially on my own again. It's a little frightening after four months of complete dependence on the fact that I wasn't alone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The quiet is a little deafening.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115792941492026019?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115792941492026019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115792941492026019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115792941492026019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115792941492026019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/09/room-for-squares_10.html' title='Room for Squares'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115724487242300265</id><published>2006-09-02T19:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T19:15:25.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stalk me!</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/myschedule.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oooh.. colorful! So this is pretty much what my schedule looks like this semester. Yes, it took me thirty-seven hours to get it to be that perfect size and color. Obviously, I have no life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My classes this fall shouldn't be too bad. I'm pushing to schedule a 9 o'clock instead of an 8 o'clock Spanish, for obvious reasons. Defense is actually my judo class and I've got nonverbal communication somewhere up there.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;School started Wednesday and so far everything's been pretty smooth-running. Some of my classes are going to require a lot of reading but it could be worse I suppose. This campus is huge but it's no bigger than Penn State. I just need to learn some short cuts because I have a feeling I'm taking some pretty inconveniently long routes to some of my classes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;On Tuesday night we had a welcoming ceremony on the main lawn and there was a big rain storm (ironic, huh? the first time it rains that bad in a month). We all got soaked, but it was still pretty spectacular. And at least it cooled us down a little. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I really &lt;em&gt;really &lt;/em&gt;want to see John Mayer at the Austin City Limits festival on the 16th, but I don't have anybody to go with. Pleeease somebody accompany me? I'll buy the tickets!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115724487242300265?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115724487242300265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115724487242300265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115724487242300265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115724487242300265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/09/stalk-me.html' title='Stalk me!'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115691066923746910</id><published>2006-08-29T23:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T23:04:29.246-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gone to Texas</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/goneto_texas.png" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;My blood has officially turned orange.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115691066923746910?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115691066923746910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115691066923746910' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115691066923746910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115691066923746910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/08/gone-to-texas.html' title='Gone to Texas'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115686992609556262</id><published>2006-08-29T11:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T11:45:26.113-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Their registration system absolutely sucks here. Why must they complicate things?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115686992609556262?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115686992609556262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115686992609556262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115686992609556262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115686992609556262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/08/their-registration-system-absolutely.html' title=''/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115616853844777598</id><published>2006-08-21T08:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-03T14:28:15.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Transatlanticism</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/austinlake.png" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it! Austin is great but unbelievably hot. Nothing worse than Dubai though. I rented out a shiny new apartment downtown conveniently placed &lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt; in the middle of frat row. We'll see how that works out, but it's closer to campus and pretty much everything so it's a excellent location inspite of the frat boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Orientation was interesting. I met a girl from Trinidad &amp;amp; Tobago named Abigail and a bunch of other interesting people. I'm going to try and contact a few friends of friends later to hang out with and show me around the town. I was invited to join the Latin American student association so I did. Let's see how that goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I went shopping last night at Barton Creek Square down near Barton Springs and it was cool. Very much like Brea Mall in CA. I pretty much maxed out my credit card there and at Walmart later where I bought a shitload of things for my new place. But I still miss my shiny plasma screen TV god dammit! I'm heading up to SC later this week hopefully to get it and all the other crap I left there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Facing my roommate should be super fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will blog my to-do list later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115616853844777598?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115616853844777598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115616853844777598' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115616853844777598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115616853844777598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/08/transatlanticism.html' title='Transatlanticism'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115564122911029202</id><published>2006-08-15T05:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T19:00:38.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SR04</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/sergiotito.png" /&gt; &lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to travel tomorrow night at 12:30AM but my plans have changed 90151 times this past week so I'm not entirely sure if I'm &lt;em&gt;really &lt;/em&gt;travelling then. My sister's going to come with me so we can road trip from Texas to PA and back. It's been my dream ever since I was an awkward pre-teen to road trip with my sister, but I'm not sure we'll even have the time. It &lt;em&gt;would &lt;/em&gt;admittedly be much easier to move my stuff that way. Who gives a fuck about registration? I'll try to finish up all my university shit on the 18th so I can free up my time before classes start. The thought of going back to &lt;em&gt;studying &lt;/em&gt;after four months of &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; studying is kind of scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115564122911029202?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115564122911029202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115564122911029202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115564122911029202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115564122911029202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/08/sr04.html' title='SR04'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115522911361170302</id><published>2006-08-10T11:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T11:58:33.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060810/ap_on_re_eu/britain_terror_plot_52"&gt;I fucking hate the fucking world.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm supposed to travel on Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish I could just dig a hole in the ground and live there forever, just so I won't have to deal with this shitfaced, shot to fucking hell planet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115522911361170302?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115522911361170302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115522911361170302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115522911361170302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115522911361170302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-fucking-hate-fucking-world.html' title=''/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115465603357144458</id><published>2006-08-03T20:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T18:32:51.073-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tragic</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/lebanon.png" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p&gt;I love this picture because Emirates Today are completely whoring it out. This little girl is a legend.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But, seriously. It's sad to see the state of the world we live in. I mean, honestly. One would assume that humans, through all the intelligence we claim to possess, would've surpassed the tendency to resolve conflict through violence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just mourn the loss of innocent lives.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115465603357144458?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115465603357144458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115465603357144458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115465603357144458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115465603357144458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/08/tragic.html' title='Tragic'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-115340784963372545</id><published>2006-07-20T08:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-03T14:25:36.876-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I wait for see.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/boys9.png" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cesqueee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know! I know! It's taken me forever to post here. I just don't think there's been much to talk about in the past month or so. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hmm, let's see.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I got an all-out summer job at the clinic down the road a few weeks ago. I've pretty much just been busting my ass trying to get up at 8 o'clock every morning. I mainly work in the lab running samples through the computer system and seeing what tests the patients need done. It's not too bad but sometimes they stick me in the administration where I have to file medical records and it's so &lt;em&gt;boring &lt;/em&gt;I want to throw myself off the roof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My weekends are on Thursday/Friday and I DO try to get out and do stuff but I've only been out a handful of times so far. =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time I posted on this thing the World Cup had just started and now it's over. Congratulations to &lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Italy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;. I was supporting Spain and Germany, but &lt;em&gt;sadly&lt;/em&gt; that didn't happen. I remember when I really started following soccer and now my sister has gotten pretty into it. I wonder if she's going to become as big of a soccer fan as I was when I was her age. Interesting times!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Right now, I'm getting ready to go back to the States in a couple weeks (classes start August 30th). I'm kind of dreading it because of all the crap I need to take care of. I have to find a new apartment in Austin AND move all my shit AND figure out what to do with my funds, which are currently in a PA bank account. Super fun. I've seriously been entertaining the idea of just staying in Dubai. Forever. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In terms of what I want to do for my major, I've been considering Human Development and Family Sciences instead of all-out medicine. I don't know yet. I haven't taken a single HDev class so I don't even know if I'll like it, but I've read into it and it seems that there'd be a lot of opportunities for me, post-graduation. I can also go into grad school and choose from a whole bunch of options there. It seems like a smart choice. Otherwise, Penn State has a GREAT Kinesiology program that I was considering but I've finished all my transfer proceedings already and UT doesn't offer any similar programs. Oh well... it must be fate.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I might go out with my cousin later to see 3 Fast 3 Curious or whatever it is. I actually feel like buying new clothes for my move to Austin. Weeeee...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm gonna go call my cousin. I'm really &lt;em&gt;really &lt;/em&gt;going to try to post more often here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-115340784963372545?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/115340784963372545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=115340784963372545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115340784963372545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/115340784963372545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-wait-for-see.html' title='I wait for see.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-114997080687436899</id><published>2006-06-10T10:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-03T14:23:34.283-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/boys7.png" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't posted in a few days mainly because I've been lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been doing much really, just sitting back and trying to enjoy the whimsical nothingness of summer vacation when I'm not training or doing work for my dad's office or website or whatnot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The World Cup started last night which is really exciting. I like soccer... and soccer boys of course! Spain and Germany FTW please!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on Thursday I went to the Kinesiologist upon my mother's recommendation. She said that she'd help me become more grounded and I think(?) she did.(?) She did all these fascinating tests and then told me that I only thought with one side of my brain at a time and that I needed to learn how to merge both sides because that would help me a lot. Um... yeah. So she gave me some exercises and then apparently I began to think with both sides. She told me to continue the exercises throughout my daily life. She also told me that I seemed to have a problem with acknowledging a final goal, that I focus too much on the getting there than on the actual destination. Other than those, she said I was healthy physically and otherwise but that I just had difficulty with the concept of &lt;em&gt;personal growth&lt;/em&gt;. Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall it was refreshing and interesting and I think I did get a lot accomplished just by talking everything out. Thanks Mom! I don't know if I've made my final decision yet on &lt;em&gt;the decision&lt;/em&gt;, but I feel like I'm close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I went out with a friend and we saw &lt;em&gt;She's The Man&lt;/em&gt;. The movie was a little lame but really funny. At least it got me out of the weird funk I was in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-114997080687436899?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/114997080687436899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=114997080687436899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114997080687436899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114997080687436899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/06/sometimes-hardest-thing-and-right.html' title='Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-114937202963860394</id><published>2006-06-03T16:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-04T05:32:37.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love of the loveless...</title><content type='html'>Today we had some friends (Joel and his wife and kids) over for dinner. I made lasagna!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I oversaw the making of the lasagna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother did the menial work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nice seeing Joel, I haven't socialized in a while and it was just fun to sit back and enjoy being in the company of good people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeez, aren't I beginning to sound like a sixty year old?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, onward to my spiel of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days I find myself getting kind of sick of people I know who are "in love". They parade it around like they've found the last prime number and act like it's the end of the world. I'm not annoyed because I'm bitter (which I'm not, I'm really not), I'm annoyed because I don't really believe it's genuine. I think it's nearly impossible for a person my age to honest to god &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; another person. Last I heard, that takes time and effort and living with the person and learning all of his/her bad habits and imperfections. It's not exactly all molasses and taffy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I'm starting to get the idea that a lot of the people I know are letting themselves fall into the belief that they're in love because they either 1) like the idea of being in love or 2) doubt they're capable of being loved and now that they've found it, are terrified to let it go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing, internet romance? Don't even go there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to disagree. I don't know much about anything, really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-114937202963860394?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/114937202963860394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=114937202963860394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114937202963860394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114937202963860394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/06/love-of-loveless.html' title='Love of the loveless...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-114929120765160811</id><published>2006-06-02T16:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T22:41:40.150-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Save A Life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain." ~Frank Herbert&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;When I was about six years old, my parents took me and my younger sister on a week-long roadtrip to the Carolinas. We saw family and visited Native American reservations and hiked and barbecued and the whole nine yards. At around the end of the trip we went to a Six Flags theme park.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;All in all it was really fun. I rode all the kiddy rides twice or three times with my sister and ate enough corn dogs and cotton candy to last me a lifetime. After I had exhausted my food supplies, my mother asked me if I wanted to go on one of the bigger coasters before we left. I, being the naive and unsuspecting child that I was, agreed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I never really considered how fast the thing would be. Or that it looped upside down (scaaary). The teen working at the ride checked my height and strapped me in and everything and then we were off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Pretty much all I could see once the ride started was sky and ground and sky and ground. This, in addition to the speed and the shaking and the wind rushing in my ears, &lt;em&gt;terrorized&lt;/em&gt; me. That and of course the fact that the straps of my seat barely held my skinny butt in and so my mother was scared out of her mind trying to shove me further into the seat with her arm. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Honest to god, my mother was screaming at the top of her lungs: "MY DAUGHTER'S GOING TO FALL OUT OF HER SEAT. OH MY GOD, SHE'S GOING TO DIE. SHE'S GOING TO &lt;em&gt;DIE&lt;/em&gt;!!!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I truly believed then that I was going to drop off of the ride that instant and die a very bloody, painful death.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Before I knew it though, the ride was over and I was fine. I hadn't fallen out, hadn't gotten hurt, hadn't freaking &lt;em&gt;died&lt;/em&gt;. *glares at mother* &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I was, however, &lt;em&gt;stricken&lt;/em&gt; and from that moment onward I avoided setting foot on any roller coaster that went faster than 10 miles an hour or rose higher than a story.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Last summer, though, while visiting my aunt in California, we all went to Knott's Berry Farm at Buena Park. Usually when I go to theme parks, I have someone to sit with until all the thrill-seekers are done playing on the giant coasters. This time though, there wasn't really anybody to sit with me and after considering my options, I decided that I &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; did not want to sit around in the hot burning sun all day while everyone but me was enjoying themselves. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I really was sick of being that person who had the stick up their butt because of one stupid incident that happened eons ago. I wanted to just take the plunge, figuratively and otherwise. So I did. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I rode the inverted coaster. Then I went on the wooden coaster, and the boomerang, and pretty much every other ride I'd previously deemed "too scary". And you know what? It &lt;em&gt;wasn't that bad&lt;/em&gt;. I didn't fall out or get hurt or die. I really enjoyed myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Right now, I feel like my life is a Six Flags and I need to get over myself and just jump on the big-kid rides.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I know, I make no sense. *sigh* At least I got an entry out today! Until next time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-114929120765160811?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/114929120765160811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=114929120765160811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114929120765160811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114929120765160811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/06/how-to-save-life.html' title='How To Save A Life.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-114926177114429735</id><published>2006-06-02T09:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T10:22:51.146-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;John Krasinski is love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/win/boys6.png" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-114926177114429735?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/114926177114429735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=114926177114429735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114926177114429735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114926177114429735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/06/john-krasinski-is-love_02.html' title=''/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-114919892650131287</id><published>2006-06-01T16:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T09:56:27.486-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm sleepy and my sister is bugging me so don't worry, no megapost tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't do much at all today. I had a driving lesson at 9AM, which is like... dawn. I was pretty sleepy so I wasn't paying much attention. My trainer kept yelling at me.. that was nice. I got back and got started on Andi's headers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...(Deleted)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got back and I continued finishing up the headers and that was it for today. Now that that's down I'm heading to bed! Here's today's inspirational message:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Keep on beginning and failing. Each time you fail, start all over gain, and you will grow stronger until you have accomplished a purpose - not the one you began with perhaps, but one you'll be glad to remember.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;~ Anne Sullivan&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-114919892650131287?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/114919892650131287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=114919892650131287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114919892650131287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114919892650131287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/06/im-sleepy-and-my-sister-is-bugging-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-114909075773081618</id><published>2006-05-31T10:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T22:48:21.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stalk, stalk, stalk!</title><content type='html'>I haven't posted here in a while. In almost a year, actually!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a &lt;a href="http://ennabelle.livejournal.com/"&gt;livejournal&lt;/a&gt; where I post from time to time, but I've decided that I want to keep a daily journal... pretty much just to keep track of my personal day to day stuff, since I have such a shitty memory. And also partly because nobody wants to listen to me babble anymore. I think once the vacant far-off stares begin, I've gone too far. And I've been getting the vacant far-off stares a lot at home recently. I do talk very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I got through my second year at Penn State early May. It's been an interesting year to say the least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School has been rewarding, especially my spring semester. I took eye-opening (and dare I say life altering?) classes and I really did have a great time. Moving into my own place has been as rewarding as it's been frustrating thanks to having the nightmare on elm street as my roommate. No joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a little lonely as a result of feeling slightly left out of my friends' inner circle. I'm not big on the whole desperate act though, so I didn't really make that big of an effort to push myself &lt;em&gt;into&lt;/em&gt; the circle so to speak. To be fair, I never really made a huge effort to be very close to the kids I know at school. Maybe it was just the feeling that I wasn't going to last that long at Penn State anyway? It just does get irritating sometimes when you get the feeling that you're being disregarded and forgotten by people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I don't like to hold grudges. Forgive and forget!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm moving to Austin, Texas now. It's pretty much 97% certain at this point. I don't really have any idea what to expect, but everything I've heard about the city and about the &lt;a href="http://www.utexas.edu/"&gt;University of Texas&lt;/a&gt; has been pretty positive so far. I know it's a big school, bigger than Penn State, but that doesn't really concern me. I was kind of hoping I'd get the chance to attend a small private school, the close-knit community part sounded appealing, but I'm big on the whole fate thing. Everything happens for a reason, ain't that right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And hey, UT's motto is &lt;em&gt;'What starts here changes the world' &lt;/em&gt;and I've always told myself that I want to change the world, right? I know it's a real flight of fancy, but I guess I'm ambitious like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, there's a small possibility that my mother and sisters are moving to Austin. I wouldn't mind having them within a 20 mile vicinity (it's always better than 7000 miles). At the very least, I can better discipline my spoiled brat of a little sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having some more trouble deciding what I want to do with my future. I know, I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt;. I'm horrible. Every time I think I've finally decided what I want, I change my mind. I really do wish I could just pick something and stick with it. Unfortunately, my inability to stay focused on one thing isn't exactly conducive to setting goals. I'm working on that particular weakness right now and I've promised myself that by the end of this summer, I will have made a final decision. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every one who hears what I'm interested in doing gives me this look like I'm obviously crazy. So I've just been keeping quiet and doing a lot (a &lt;em&gt;lot&lt;/em&gt;) of research on the topic. I really think I can do it and I really think I want to. I keep saying I'm going to "give it some time" but I'm starting to think I want to just go ahead with it. But, I'm going to give it some more time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this post has certainly dragged on and on. I guess a year's hiatus will do that. I don't really think anyone's reading anyway, so does it matter how much I type? Like cyberspace isn't just &lt;em&gt;waiting&lt;/em&gt; to be filled with more useless babble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today was interesting. I'm in Dubai right now with the fam and it's enjoyable. I've been (sort of) working at my dad's little advertising firm so he asked (forced) me to attend this banquet thing in the morning. I think it was at the Chamber of Commerce building. We went over there with his media manager and his PR (or something) guy and there was just a small welcoming speech by the president of this new business service thing called Trade Points. I know nobody's interested but, it basically connects small and large companies from around the world on one online system where you can share information about your company's services and read other company profiles and so on and so forth. It was alright, I guess. There was food and even some cake (and a pretty view of Dubai Creek outside the window) so I was mostly happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then stopped by my mom's office because (does she ever do any &lt;em&gt;work&lt;/em&gt;?) I thought I'd entertain her for a little bit. I walked into her office and she was meditating (nope, not work-related). To my previous question, no. I hung out with her for a while then I had to go to a "meeting" at the firm. It's just a block down from my mom's office building so it's pretty convenient. Apparently, the Dubai Courts want another brochure and ad deal and apparently, that's good news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards I went home, ate, watched HP4 with my little sister, and that's it. I have driving tomorrow morning and I might just go to the club. Also, I've contacted someone about finding some volunteer opportunities here this summer. Hopefully I can get something!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this has been one bitch of a back-from-hiatus megapost. If anyone's still reading, wow... you must be stalking me or something because, seriously?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna go try to figure something out for a header I promised Andi I'd make. I hope I can pull off something nice. Andi, don't feel obligated to use any of my crap okay? =P I won't love you less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-114909075773081618?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/114909075773081618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=114909075773081618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114909075773081618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/114909075773081618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2006/05/stalk-stalk-stalk.html' title='Stalk, stalk, stalk!'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-112100022578781900</id><published>2005-07-10T15:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-10T07:57:05.793-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow...</title><content type='html'>I haven't posted here in ages! &lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/sico_kitty"&gt;Andi &lt;/a&gt;just reminded me of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to update more often, or I might try and get into LJ or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-112100022578781900?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/112100022578781900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=112100022578781900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/112100022578781900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/112100022578781900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/07/wow.html' title='Wow...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-111450066095937559</id><published>2005-04-26T02:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T18:52:28.496-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I failed to explain the title of my previous post. Typical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, &lt;strong&gt;I want peanut butter cups. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-111450066095937559?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/111450066095937559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=111450066095937559' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111450066095937559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111450066095937559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/04/i-failed-to-explain-title-of-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-111450048131921551</id><published>2005-04-26T01:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-10T07:11:48.406-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Peanut Butter</title><content type='html'>Ok. So much has gone on since my last post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've perpetually killed my laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ashamed to admit what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's just say I took it to BestBuy citing 'water damage' and we'll leave it at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't understand how bad losing ALL of your data is until it actually happens to you. I don't want to moan over a lost cause but MY PICTURES, MY STORIES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sobs miserably*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I'm &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; close to dropping out of school. It's not that I'm doing badly. It's just that... I just think my brain has thrown in the towel. It's telling me to STOP stuffing more useless crap into it. At this point, I don't want to attend one more class. I don't want to read one more page of notes. I don't want to sit through another exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been doing it so much and for so long and so far, college pretty much feels like an extension of high school. Out of the 11 classes I've taken over the course of two semesters, only 3 were remotely enjoyable/memorable: music, religious studies (heh), and documentary film.&lt;br /&gt;The only one that came close to my intended major was the film class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of taking general crap that I'm not going to benefit from or remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why should I take science if I'm going into television? It's ridiculous and I've had enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, life doesn't work that way. I DO want to eventually get into television and God dammit if it means I have to sit through 100s of pointless biology, statistics, or economics lectures then I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just not going to be very freaking happy about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, at least I have consolation. Summer is in &lt;strong&gt;twelve days&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*cries tears of happiness*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 12 days, I'll get my ass out of here and GO HOME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sighs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I've gotten thoroughly used to college life, I still miss it. I miss my sisters to death. I miss my mother (and father&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; a little bit&lt;/span&gt;). I miss my friends. I miss home-cooked meals. I miss my bed and having my own room. I miss being able to pee in a bathroom that isn't a stall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that's enough late-night rambling for now. I'm actually tired, no insomnia tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, before I go. You all must download Frou Frou - Let Go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love that song. It's from the Garden State OST.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G'night. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-111450048131921551?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/111450048131921551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=111450048131921551' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111450048131921551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111450048131921551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/04/peanut-butter.html' title='Peanut Butter'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-111309677970413536</id><published>2005-04-09T20:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-09T20:50:35.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>*pouts* again</title><content type='html'>Okay, I don't know what happened to that other post. Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My computer is dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's making these strange whirring noises and it just completely freezes for no apparent reason. It sounds like a dying banshee. It's quite frightening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rescom restricted my internet speed to 56kbps this week because (apparently) I've exceeded my 1.5gb per week bandwidth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know how torturous it is to use a 56kb connection? It's like slow, painful death. It really is. Especially if you've grown accustomed to using a 400mbps connection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*cries*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rescom are evil, evil people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-111309677970413536?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/111309677970413536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=111309677970413536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111309677970413536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111309677970413536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/04/pouts-again.html' title='*pouts* again'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-111309485791840242</id><published>2005-04-09T20:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-09T20:00:57.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>*pouts*</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-111309485791840242?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/111309485791840242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=111309485791840242' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111309485791840242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111309485791840242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/04/pouts.html' title='*pouts*'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-111221631697345331</id><published>2005-03-30T14:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-30T14:58:36.973-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The glory of beautiful weather.</title><content type='html'>Woo! It's beautiful out. *dances*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60 degrees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Penn Staters can't seem to believe it. They've really gone all out. Everyone's in skirts, shorts, and sleeveless tops and they're all either sprawled all over the campus lawns or kicking, throwing, bouncing, tossing, or swinging some sort of ball or other projectile. You'd think it was mid July. And it's quite uplifting, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's late afternoon now. The sun's warm, the sky's blue, and the breeze is cool. And that lingering essence of yesterday's rain is still in the air. It really is the perfect day. *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna go sit outside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-111221631697345331?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/111221631697345331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=111221631697345331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111221631697345331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111221631697345331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/03/glory-of-beautiful-weather.html' title='The glory of beautiful weather.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-111199300601537877</id><published>2005-03-28T00:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-28T00:56:46.016-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mmm.</title><content type='html'>Cheddar popcorn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-111199300601537877?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/111199300601537877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=111199300601537877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111199300601537877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111199300601537877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/03/mmm.html' title='Mmm.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-111199271208262941</id><published>2005-03-26T16:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-28T00:56:02.676-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Over-analyzing. Again.</title><content type='html'>Well. I've been back for a few weeks now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been pretty hectic with post-holiday exams and other related crap that PSU enforces on us defenseless sheep. But things should cool off this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to believe that there are only 5 weeks left. Until the end of Spring semester and the end of my first official year as a college student. Time really flies. The day I got here (8 months ago) is so vividly imprinted in my memory that I can re-live it just by closing my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not because I haven't been doing anything for 8 months. Hell. I've experienced so freaking much... the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's just the pace of life. It's designed to move quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how happy you are. Or how unhappy. Your life won't stop. Time will &lt;em&gt;always&lt;/em&gt; go on. And I think we all know that. Subconsciously. I guess that's why we always wish and long for the good moments to last just a little bit longer. And why, in our bad times, we can survive.. because we know in our hearts that all we have to do is wait just a little bit and it'll be over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lol. I'm sorry. My purpose is &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; to figure out the meaning of life. Nor is to over-analyze and over-philosophize. But whenever I come to post something here, I always get carried away with my train of thought and I end up writing mini-essays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll stop now before it happens again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-111199271208262941?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/111199271208262941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=111199271208262941' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111199271208262941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111199271208262941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/03/over-analyzing-again.html' title='Over-analyzing. Again.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-111052991136723615</id><published>2005-03-07T16:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-11T02:37:29.443-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Golden State</title><content type='html'>This place is gorgeous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I never wanna leave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-111052991136723615?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/111052991136723615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=111052991136723615' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111052991136723615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/111052991136723615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/03/golden-state.html' title='The Golden State'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110938486250459134</id><published>2005-02-25T17:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-25T20:27:42.503-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tra-la-la.</title><content type='html'>One week 'til Cali. ^^&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110938486250459134?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110938486250459134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110938486250459134' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110938486250459134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110938486250459134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/tra-la-la.html' title='Tra-la-la.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110920241224181303</id><published>2005-02-23T17:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T17:49:56.763-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeaaahhh!</title><content type='html'>I aced my Religious Studies exam!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*does a celebratory dance*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To: nka5001@psu.edu&lt;br /&gt;Subject: Your score report on EX 2 in RL ST 001&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your total score was 48 out of 50.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;The class average was 36.1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The highest score was &lt;strong&gt;48 &lt;/strong&gt;and the lowest score was 15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of the 161 other students taking the test,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;0 scored higher than you did,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;2 had a score equal, and&lt;br /&gt;159 scored lower than you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yes. Yes. YES.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm so thrilled. This is one of my toughest classes and I studied my freaking ass off for this exam. Who ever thought work &lt;em&gt;actually&lt;/em&gt; pays off? :P&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;:D :D :D&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Seacrest Out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110920241224181303?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110920241224181303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110920241224181303' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110920241224181303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110920241224181303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/yeaaahhh.html' title='Yeaaahhh!'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110910617242192299</id><published>2005-02-22T22:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-22T22:43:04.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Comment!</title><content type='html'>People!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; know that you can comment on my posts, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to feel like I'm writing to someone and not just talking to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So click, click, click that little 'Comments' link at the bottom of every post and comment your heart out. :D Pretty please?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Or maybe it's true. Maybe nobody &lt;em&gt;does&lt;/em&gt; read what I write. Maybe I really am just talking to myself. Oh dear. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110910617242192299?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110910617242192299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110910617242192299' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110910617242192299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110910617242192299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/comment.html' title='Comment!'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110910584301875341</id><published>2005-02-22T14:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T18:49:13.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Free. Free. FREE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is like one of the only weeks of this semester that I &lt;em&gt;don't&lt;/em&gt; have an exam. I'm overwhelmed with the concept of having &lt;em&gt;absolutely nothing&lt;/em&gt; to do. :D Yaay. This rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You want to know another thing that rocks? Hershey's Twizzlers. Aren't they great? They're oh so very good and best of all, they're low-fat. I want a life-time supply. Hershey's, you better send me free stuff because I just advertised your product and everyone just &lt;em&gt;knows&lt;/em&gt; that like, thousands of people read this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110910584301875341?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110910584301875341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110910584301875341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110910584301875341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110910584301875341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/free.html' title=''/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110874449157556544</id><published>2005-02-18T10:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T18:49:45.426-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ooooh.</title><content type='html'>Two weeks 'til Cali, baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week I bought a nice white-gold watch for 40 fucking dollars and it's fucking DEFECTIVE! It tells the time correctly for about six minutes then it slows down and I end up missing my afternoon class because I think it's 1:20 when it's actually 2:40. Grr. Kaufmann's is &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; gonna pay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110874449157556544?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110874449157556544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110874449157556544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110874449157556544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110874449157556544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/ooooh.html' title='Ooooh.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110859624037670337</id><published>2005-02-15T14:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-16T17:24:00.380-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sing about Karma.</title><content type='html'>Birds are singing. There's a cool breeze coming through the window. The sky's blue and the sun's shining. It's warm outside and the boys are tossing around a football on the quad. Someone in Shulze has a Music 5 exam and is blasting the classical music CD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dare I say it? Has spring arrived?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is all temporary. We'll probably be back to winter tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our world is constantly changing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I've been studying Buddhism in my Intro to World Religions class and I find myself very fascinated by the logic and ideals that I've come to learn. You see, the &lt;em&gt;ultimate&lt;/em&gt; goal for a Buddhist is Nirvana, liberation from the cycle of rebirth. One can achieve Nirvana only by the meditative realization that &lt;strong&gt;our existence is in a constant state of motion,&lt;/strong&gt; of change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I completely agree. BUT, I don't think that our minds are capable of seeing this continuous change. Our human mind perceives stability. We see something that's constant. And who is to say that stability isn't good? Western psychology preaches the need for stability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we were created like this for a reason. If we always live in change, when do we ever get the chance to appreciate what we have in the moment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it'll probably rain tomorrow, but I can still appreciate the sunshine today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;My ramblings don't make sense. Not even to me. :P Only someone like me would contradict ancient Buddhist ideals. There goes my Karma. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110859624037670337?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110859624037670337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110859624037670337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110859624037670337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110859624037670337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/sing-about-karma.html' title='Sing about Karma.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110816795054083515</id><published>2005-02-11T18:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-11T18:25:50.540-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Unbeing dead...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;isn't being alive." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;E.E Cummings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so cold and I am so very tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God for weekends. Three weeks 'til Cali!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be posting something longer a little later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110816795054083515?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110816795054083515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110816795054083515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110816795054083515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110816795054083515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/unbeing-dead.html' title='&quot;Unbeing dead...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110767839508079287</id><published>2005-02-05T22:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-06T02:30:51.866-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Semester at Sea.</title><content type='html'>Oh my god.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just found &lt;a href="http://www.semesteratsea.com"&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt; amazingly incredible program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's literally a "semester at sea." You sign up to study an entire academic semester on a &lt;em&gt;cruise&lt;/em&gt; ship that sails around the WORLD! You take classes and you study and everything, &lt;strong&gt;and&lt;/strong&gt; you get to stop at all these different countries and places around the world (Hong Kong, Spain, Norway, The Bahamas.. to list a few).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh.. I'm so excited to learn about this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't it be &lt;em&gt;such&lt;/em&gt; an awesome experience?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110767839508079287?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110767839508079287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110767839508079287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110767839508079287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110767839508079287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/semester-at-sea.html' title='Semester at Sea.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110756579126575729</id><published>2005-02-04T18:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T19:09:51.266-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Two sluts live here. </title><content type='html'>It's been a hectic week. We're in the middle of mid-terms and project due dates. You know, it wasn't until I came here that I &lt;em&gt;truly&lt;/em&gt; understood the meaning of sleep deprivation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I live for weekends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.juventuz.com/forum/images/smilies/rolleyes.gif" /&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So earlier I was doing my laundry. Of course, to torture us to no return, the university only has laundry rooms in our dorm on the &lt;em&gt;sorority &lt;/em&gt;floors. You see, sorority girls have way too many clothes for their own good. &lt;em&gt;Too&lt;/em&gt; many clothes. Everytime I go to wash my clothes, I pray to God that I'll be blessed with a couple of vacant washing machines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No such luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There might be &lt;em&gt;one&lt;/em&gt; free washer... but I usually have three loads. So I'm usually stuck hauling my (freaking heavy) basket up and down the stairs and wandering around in sorority territory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today as I walked through their brightly colored halls (us normal people don't get to enjoy the novelty of painted walls), I noticed a sign on one of the doors. Now. I hold &lt;strike&gt;no&lt;/strike&gt; very little disrespect towards sororities or their members. But, I honestly couldn't help but laugh out loud at what it said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"TWO SLUTS LIVE HERE."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, at least they aren't afraid to identify with who they really are. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*hides*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110756579126575729?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110756579126575729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110756579126575729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110756579126575729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110756579126575729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/two-sluts-live-here.html' title='Two sluts live here. '/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110728905668161941</id><published>2005-02-01T13:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-02T23:24:19.100-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ok, so I admit it. </title><content type='html'>I'm a weakling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But IN MY DEFENSE, I just suffered through an excruciatingly painful 90-minute lecture in a horribly hard chair. I could hardly move my head to look at the professor and my arm was stiff to a point where I gave up trying to write any notes. How fruitful. A few minutes into the torture, I slid down in my seat, closed my eyes, and prayed for the class to end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I got out of there, I practically ran to the University Health Services. I picked up some 75 cent external analgesic balm and a large box of double strength Tylenol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I smell like wintermint and I'm jacked up on aspirins. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110728905668161941?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110728905668161941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110728905668161941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110728905668161941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110728905668161941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/ok-so-i-admit-it.html' title='Ok, so I admit it. '/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110727683145076726</id><published>2005-02-01T10:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-01T10:56:43.973-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The horror. </title><content type='html'>So much for new year's resolutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have officially missed my first class this semester. I'm so incredibly bummed. I'm very much serious when it comes to resolutions. I haven't had a sip of coke or pepsi in about 3 years now, ever since I vowed never to drink any in 2002.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope missing this class doesn't create a domino effect. Hey. I missed one class... what's the point in going to the next? Or the one after that? Or hey, &lt;em&gt;any&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I have a (somewhat) valid excuse. I got up about an hour before I had to leave but lo and behold, I (physically) could not get out of bed. The first movement I made, my lower neck and back completely stiffened up and became painfully sore. Of course I would do this to myself. I always sleep in the most awkward of awkward positions (NO, not &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; type of awkward you perves). And then I whine and complain and curse the fates for making my back hurt. God damn you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lay there for a few seconds wondering what I should do. I tried to rub the pain away but quickly discovered that it wasn't going to make it any better. So.. I eased onto my stomach, burrowed myself in my comforter, and said to hell with class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh how desperately I need a back massage and some Tiger Cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110727683145076726?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110727683145076726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110727683145076726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110727683145076726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110727683145076726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/02/horror.html' title='The horror. '/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110713016030804419</id><published>2005-01-30T17:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-23T22:12:06.150-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Do I need a Doctor for this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what's wrong but I really have trouble eating.  If I do eat, I'll eat a quarter of my plate; otherwise, I won't eat anything at all. I know it isn't healthy but I can't &lt;em&gt;force&lt;/em&gt; food into me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's not like I don't want to eat, I just don't feel like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame the stupid commons food.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110713016030804419?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110713016030804419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110713016030804419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110713016030804419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110713016030804419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/do-i-need-doctor-for-this-i-dont-know.html' title=''/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110707601832941630</id><published>2005-01-30T03:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-30T03:07:56.216-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Am I Here?</title><content type='html'>My mind isn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110707601832941630?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110707601832941630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110707601832941630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110707601832941630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110707601832941630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/why-am-i-here.html' title='Why Am I Here?'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110704224987692607</id><published>2005-01-29T17:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-29T17:44:09.876-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Well this made my day.</title><content type='html'>Maroon 5 are performing at the BJC in March! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110704224987692607?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110704224987692607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110704224987692607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110704224987692607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110704224987692607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/well-this-made-my-day.html' title='Well this made my day.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110671975970128971</id><published>2005-01-25T23:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-26T13:07:04.240-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't ask me for the time. </title><content type='html'>So I have a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, when you're in college, you have all this filler time. Where you're just in between; between one class and the next, between meals and library time. That kind of thing. &lt;em&gt;My&lt;/em&gt; filler time has always been right where I'm between consciousness and sleep. You know, those last couple of minutes (or hours for you insomniacs) where you're just laying in bed and you aren't exactly awake to the &lt;em&gt;world&lt;/em&gt;, but you're wide awake to pretty much every single thought and emotion in your head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing wrong with that, right? I like to call it my "special" time. :) NO&lt;em&gt;,&lt;/em&gt; not &lt;em&gt;that &lt;/em&gt;kind of special you morons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*...*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem that I'm facing now is that my "special" time has somehow managed to extend. Now it isn't just thinking before I go to bed. It's when I'm walking to and from class... or when I'm having dinner... or even sometimes when I'm in class. And now I'm pretty much just living in my own little world. When I walk down the street, I don't hear what's going on around me (could be that iPod, too). I don't really look at the people or places that pass me. I'm no longer attuned to the world around me... and it's becoming quite disturbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, a woman in the elevator asked me for the time. Distractedly, I told her it was 1:15.. not even bothering to check my watch. When I got to my dorm, I glanced at the clock on the wall and it was 2:30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell is wrong with me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need some sense slapped in me. Then I need to be slapped senseless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Lady in elevator, I apologize and sincerely hope I caused no inconvenience. I can only imagine.. "Hey, it's only 1:15.. there's still an hour left before I have to give my terminally ill son his life-saving medication." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110671975970128971?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110671975970128971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110671975970128971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110671975970128971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110671975970128971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/dont-ask-me-for-time.html' title='Don&apos;t ask me for the time. '/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110663406539879643</id><published>2005-01-25T00:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-07-10T07:46:31.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Aah!</title><content type='html'>I really feel like some bread with Kraft cream cheese spread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fine. I'll stop posting now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110663406539879643?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110663406539879643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110663406539879643' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110663406539879643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110663406539879643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/aah.html' title='Aah!'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110663386297679373</id><published>2005-01-25T00:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-25T13:39:21.953-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh and...</title><content type='html'>Since I'm usually ranting about the need to be unique, individualistic, and original, I have decided to rename this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay... so I don't actually ever talk about the need to be unique, individualistic, and original, but for the sake of this post... let's pretend I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came to the conclusion that "nothing out of the ordinary" doesn't exactly give people an idea of how original I truly am (heh). So I've come up with "Reflections."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How very unique. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to come up with something better later. I'm tired now. Good night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Where's my sister? She's disappeared! Why the fuck is everyone disappearing these days! Nobody wants to talk to me. *wallows in self-pity* I feel like that friendless kid that always gets picked on in grade school. Yeah, that one. The one who always used to cry to her mother that she didn't have any friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;That was me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Cruel, cruel children. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110663386297679373?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110663386297679373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110663386297679373' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110663386297679373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110663386297679373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/oh-and.html' title='Oh and...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110663316012290212</id><published>2005-01-24T23:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T18:46:54.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Procrastination..</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;is the thief of time."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm the queen of procrastination. So what does that make me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*curses miserable self*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have an exam tomorrow morning. Or later today... technically. No, I did not study. YES, of &lt;em&gt;course&lt;/em&gt; I plan to. I wish I wasn't all talk and no play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*whistles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would really like to say something profound. Luckily for you, I have nothing to rant about tonight. I spent the entire weekend sitting inside my dorm to avoid the enormous snow storm that was brought down upon us early Saturday. It was &lt;em&gt;crazy&lt;/em&gt;. You couldn't step outside the building. The snow was coming down at a rate of like, 2 feet an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, it wasn't &lt;em&gt;that &lt;/em&gt;bad. I just wanted an excuse to sit around motionless for two days straight. And when I say motionless, I'm not joking. My side of the dorm is exactly three meters wide and two meters across. Throw in a bed, a desk, a cabinet, some drawers, a microfridge, the love of my life (my television), and my laptop and calculate HOW MUCH FREAKING LEG ROOM I END UP WITH. About 0.25 meters. That's the distance I have to cross to get from my bed to my desk and back. So you can imagine the amount of moving around I did this weekend. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I still whined and complained about the fact that we didn't get a snow day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"TO HELL WITH THIS, PENN STATE. I'M MOVING TO MEXICO."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110663316012290212?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110663316012290212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110663316012290212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110663316012290212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110663316012290212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/procrastination.html' title='&quot;Procrastination..'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110634175908761807</id><published>2005-01-21T14:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-21T15:12:48.096-06:00</updated><title type='text'>TGI...</title><content type='html'>Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew. What a long &lt;em&gt;long&lt;/em&gt; week. What a long two weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe it's been only &lt;em&gt;two &lt;/em&gt;weeks since the beginning of semester. Honestly. This is insane! I'm ready for another holiday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of holidays, spring break I'm going to Cali! Yeah, baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My aunt and I were supposed to plan a trip to Texas, but just as I started looking for good travel deals, I went to check her academic calendar and it turns out her break is like TWO weeks after ours! That sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So instead I've decided to go to California. It'll be fun, and I need a break from this cold. And these classes. Seriously. Or I'll beat myself to death with a book. Or a pine tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to throw a HUGE BEACH BASH. *laughs maniacally*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're all invited. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110634175908761807?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110634175908761807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110634175908761807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110634175908761807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110634175908761807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/tgi.html' title='TGI...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110550451584436806</id><published>2005-01-11T22:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-11T22:35:15.846-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Isn't it strange...</title><content type='html'>..when you have so much going through your head, so much you want to express... and yet you can't seem to find a single word that'll even begin to describe everything you want to say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days, more often than not, &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; is how I feel. Like I just can't express myself properly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's because I don't really know what I'm thinking. Haha. Typical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110550451584436806?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110550451584436806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110550451584436806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110550451584436806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110550451584436806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/isnt-it-strange.html' title='Isn&apos;t it strange...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110536198918444039</id><published>2005-01-10T06:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-11T23:08:48.250-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Well...</title><content type='html'>I'm back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been pretty tired and busy in the past two days. Buying books and stuff for my dorm and unpacking and crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a little strange being back here. Seeing students milling around getting ready for semester to start. Sleeping in my cramped dorm bed. Crap like that. My energy is definitely on the negative side, but I'm slowly getting back into the system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My classes start today at around 10 AM. This semester my earliest class is at 9:45AM and the latest ends at 5:30PM (and that's first-year seminar, only lasts four weeks). Not bad at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to head in for a shower right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110536198918444039?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110536198918444039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110536198918444039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110536198918444039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110536198918444039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/well.html' title='Well...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110512499327269483</id><published>2005-01-07T22:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-07T13:10:23.740-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One hour..</title><content type='html'>This is it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just sad and anxious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110512499327269483?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110512499327269483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110512499327269483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110512499327269483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110512499327269483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/one-hour.html' title='One hour..'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110505709664120573</id><published>2005-01-07T02:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T18:44:34.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I keep all my promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting in the silence of my house. I'm trying to really savor my last night here by being meditative and reflective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a crazy couple of weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scarily enough, I actually don't want to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I enjoy "independent college life," I just can't bring myself to leave right now. It's harder than I imagined. It's harder than when I &lt;em&gt;first&lt;/em&gt; left for school. Distance makes the heart grow fonder I guess. Distance and time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing used to being home has made me less and less eager to return to college. It's hard for me to think that in less than a day, I'll be back at PSU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate goodbyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all just a little hard to face. I'm like silently hoping that something will keep me here. Or that time will just stand still. But it won't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And hey, you gotta face life. Right? Pretty soon I'll be caught up in that whirlwind of school and classes and people and I won't even realize it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the best time here. I've done everything I promised myself I would do. Now I have to go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110505709664120573?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110505709664120573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110505709664120573' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110505709664120573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110505709664120573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/i-keep-all-my-promises.html' title=''/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110505723861955186</id><published>2005-01-01T01:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-06T18:24:11.270-06:00</updated><title type='text'>2005</title><content type='html'>Happy New Year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*is breathless*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110505723861955186?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110505723861955186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110505723861955186' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110505723861955186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110505723861955186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2005/01/2005.html' title='2005'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110505862028153804</id><published>2004-12-31T09:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T18:42:14.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Greatest. Year. Ever.</title><content type='html'>2004, I'll miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;1. What did you do in 2004 that you'd never done before?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Went to college. Lived on my own. Spent a shitload of money on clothes and electronics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;I don't think I had any resolutions last year. The only thing I ever wish for is to be happy. But this year my resolution is to attend all my classes. I need to work on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;3. Did anyone close to you give birth?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;My aunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;4. Did anyone close to you die?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;No thank god.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;5. What countries did you visit?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Noplace new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. What would you like to have in 2005 that you lacked in 2004?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;7. What date from 2004 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;The day I got to college. My life one-eightied from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Graduating top of my class. Living (successfully) on my own... haha. Learning who I really am and what I really want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;9. What was your biggest failure?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Not staying in contact with some of my school friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;10. Did you suffer illness or injury?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Nothing serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;11. What was the best thing you bought?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Probably this laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;12. Whose behavior merited celebration?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Michael Moore's. I love that man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Dan Rather's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;14. Where did most of your money go?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;In the pockets of corporate America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Leaving. Coming home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;16. What song will always remind you of 2004?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;The Darkness - I Believe in a Thing Called Love. My neighbors must have played that song at least 50 times a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;17. Compared to this time last year, are you:&lt;br /&gt;i. happier or sadder?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Happier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;ii. thinner or fatter?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Thinner. I think I LOST the Freshman 15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;iii. richer or poorer?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Richer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;18. What do you wish you'd done more of?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Gone to classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;19. What do you wish you'd done less of?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Been moody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;20. How will you be spending Christmas?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;n/a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;22. Did you fall in love in 2004?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Yes. With Michael Moore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;23. How many one-night stands?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;24. What was your favorite TV program?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;The Amazing Race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;26. What was the best book you read?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I haven't read much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;27. What was your greatest musical discovery?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Hilary Duff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;28. What did you want and get?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;29. What did you want and not get?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;30. What was your favorite film of this year?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Fahrenheit 9/11. Alexander. Closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;17. I had a paper and an oral presentation due the next day so I was working my butt off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;32.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Having everyone I love closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Sugar, spice, everything nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;34. What kept you sane?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Twizzlers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Hilary Duff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;36. What political issue stirred you the most?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt; The elections, but otherwise I'm not incredibly up to par when it concerns politics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;37. Who did you miss?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Everyone back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;38. Who was the best new person you met?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;All of you! The invisible voices I speak to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2004.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;Don't bother yourself with people who don't bother with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye 2004!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110505862028153804?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110505862028153804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110505862028153804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110505862028153804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110505862028153804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/greatest-year-ever.html' title='Greatest. Year. Ever.'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110395343345683807</id><published>2004-12-23T13:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T18:40:10.663-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting used..</title><content type='html'>to being back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's this system here. It's nice being in that system again. Going out with friends. Hanging out with my sister. Having my baby sister curl up next to me at night. Things that I used to take for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I went out for lunch with my family. We had some Baskin Robbins and then we went to Satwa. Cuz every girl's gotta visit Satwa when she's in town. No. My mom had some car problems and she dragged us over with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to dinner and a movie with Aisha in a while. It'll be nice to see her again. I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just learned how to use this photo uploading program. I shall be posting pictures!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ETA: &lt;/strong&gt;Etisalat fucking blocked the photo thing, so none of that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110395343345683807?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110395343345683807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110395343345683807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110395343345683807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110395343345683807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/getting-used.html' title='Getting used..'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110371492098674620</id><published>2004-12-22T14:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-22T05:28:40.986-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Baaack...</title><content type='html'>Where the heart is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's awesome being back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to have lunch with my fam now.. Aaaah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110371492098674620?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110371492098674620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110371492098674620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110371492098674620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110371492098674620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/baaack.html' title='Baaack...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110336111535229239</id><published>2004-12-18T03:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T15:31:43.589-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Halls are quiet...</title><content type='html'>Last night in the dorm.. Aaah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished my last exam earlier today. It went pretty well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to spend two nights at the Nittany Lion Inn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to try and get some sleep now. I can't believe I actually got finished packing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110336111535229239?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110336111535229239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110336111535229239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110336111535229239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110336111535229239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/halls-are-quiet.html' title='Halls are quiet...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110325337422675055</id><published>2004-12-16T16:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-16T21:16:14.226-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Carpe Diem</title><content type='html'>So I've been doing a lot of waiting recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting for classes to finish. Waiting to get done with my exams. Waiting to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess all this waiting has made me realize that I hardly ever &lt;em&gt;truly&lt;/em&gt; live "in the moment". I'm always either living in anticipation of something that's going to happen or I'm living in hindsight of things that have already happened. Right now, this waiting means that I'm living in anticipation of going home. And I guess most people are like that. We're either thinking about the future, or thinking about things that have happened in the past. It's true, isn't it? I mean, when was the last time &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; lived in the moment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what &lt;em&gt;is &lt;/em&gt;"living in the moment" anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it having that feeling that fills your senses and makes you forget about the past and the future and whatever else might be on your mind? Is it those few seconds of pure joy or even, pure anguish?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate and I were discussing this a couple weeks ago. She brought up the fact that you can never truly feel that rush of senses unless you're with the people you love. And she's right, to some extent. When you're really enjoying your time with the family or friends that you love, you tend to forget everything that's on your mind. And who's to forget the feeling you have when you're with that person? Yes, &lt;strong&gt;that&lt;/strong&gt; person. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would say that I could point out exactly those times in my life that I've really lived the moment. I think the fact that they're so sparse makes them all the much more valuable. I wouldn't give them up for anything. In fact, I'm willing to live in the past or the future or whatever other dimension just so that I'd be able to experience those moments and cherish them as they should be cherished. Because I think that's what life is really about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110325337422675055?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110325337422675055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110325337422675055' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110325337422675055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110325337422675055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/carpe-diem.html' title='Carpe Diem'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110309933987700642</id><published>2004-12-15T02:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T15:23:35.479-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Owwwie...</title><content type='html'>My stomach hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm waiting for that double strength Tylenol to kick in before going back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a pleasant night. :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND I fell asleep waiting for 'The Amazing Race' to come on. Dammit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110309933987700642?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110309933987700642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110309933987700642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110309933987700642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110309933987700642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/owww.html' title='Owwwie...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110307050770306828</id><published>2004-12-14T18:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-14T18:28:27.703-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The dorm...</title><content type='html'>..is a pig-sty. Notebooks and texts and red Nittany Notes are all over the place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I could care less right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am finally finally done with my dreaded Math exam. I still have an exam left, but in my opinion, I am &lt;em&gt;finished&lt;/em&gt; with finals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The test was horrible. I only knew how to answer like 5 of 40 questions. It doesn't matter though. I did the best I could do and I'm confident that I did well in the rest of my courses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to get a good's night rest tonight so that I can start packing tomorrow. I'm so excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going hoome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110307050770306828?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110307050770306828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110307050770306828' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110307050770306828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110307050770306828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/dorm.html' title='The dorm...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110295967875598532</id><published>2004-12-13T12:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-21T15:23:13.513-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Down comes...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;..the soft and silent snow, white petals from the flowers that grow in the cold..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's snowing outside. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First real snow of the season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110295967875598532?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110295967875598532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110295967875598532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110295967875598532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110295967875598532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/down-comes.html' title='Down comes...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110295889825062472</id><published>2004-12-13T10:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T18:15:19.073-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mast Cells and Basophils...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;and crap that I cannot, for the life of me, remember right now even though I was sitting in my Biological Sciences exam no less than an hour ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two down, two to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I got run over by an SUV. I stayed up all last night "studying" and right now I can barely keep my eyes open. Great. This is very conducive to the (comprehensive, may I throw in) Math History exam that I have to study my ass off for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could die instead of do this exam, I would. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the world doesn't work that way. I &lt;em&gt;have &lt;/em&gt;to do it&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; *cries*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to try and get a few hours of sleep. I can't concentrate like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110295889825062472?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110295889825062472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110295889825062472' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110295889825062472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110295889825062472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/mast-cells-and-basophils.html' title='Mast Cells and Basophils...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110276331885930831</id><published>2004-12-11T03:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-21T15:27:09.036-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Counting Sheep...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;to try to get to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking is great but not when you're about to die of lack of sleep. I've had a cumulative 10 hours of sleep in the past 3 days. How come nobody ever told me that college would equal zero hours of sleep when I signed up for this thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah well. It's Friday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was my last day of classes. I can't believe the semester is nearly over. It seems like it was only yesterday I was sitting cluelessly in my very first college session and dragging my out of shape ass around the campus (which, at the time, I thought I'd never find my way around). I'm sort of relieved. My classes weren't &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; bad, but everything started to get a little tiring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a presentation today (on Wal-mart. Ooh). It didn't go as bad as I expected it would. That's a miracle. Out of 6 billion people on this earth, I am the &lt;em&gt;worst&lt;/em&gt; one at presentations. I shake and stutter and make zero eye contact. I have no idea why, either. It's not like I'm *that* shy a person. I just can't seem to stand in front of a group of people and speak. For some reason, I somehow managed today. Maybe because our professor asked us to finish as fast as possible. So I had an excuse to read through my presentation really fast. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm done, I'm going to completely enjoy this weekend. And to hell with the exam on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 days until I get to go home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110276331885930831?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110276331885930831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110276331885930831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110276331885930831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110276331885930831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/counting-sheep.html' title='Counting Sheep...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110261276188382435</id><published>2004-12-09T12:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T14:28:08.806-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One down...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Three to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One and a half days of classes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110261276188382435?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110261276188382435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110261276188382435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110261276188382435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110261276188382435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/one-down.html' title='One down...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110254539086783433</id><published>2004-12-08T16:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T14:28:54.456-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ace 'em</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Two days of classes left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first final is tomorrow morning. WOOT. At exactly 11 AM, I will have one down and three to go. To tell you the truth, I'm not worried at all. Geography isn't that hard. If I really study, I should be able to pull an&lt;strong&gt; A&lt;/strong&gt;. Question is, will I study?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only exam I am &lt;em&gt;dreading&lt;/em&gt; right now is my Math History exam. God curse that subject to hell and back. I am taught incomprehensible 10000-year-old math theories by a 100-year-old teacher in a 1000-year-old classroom. Most useless class I've ever taken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pfft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I've gotten some very important errands done in the past two days. I'm proud of myself. I actually dragged my lazy ass all across campus and down town to finish up everything I needed to get done before leaving for Christmas. I even went down to DUS and had a walk-in advising session to talk to a counselor about my major. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, it's been a better (albeit colder) day than yesterday-I even attended all my classes. Wow. This time next week I'll be almost done with finals and shall be packing. Can't &lt;em&gt;wait.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for now, I've got to concentrate on the exam tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110254539086783433?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110254539086783433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110254539086783433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110254539086783433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110254539086783433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/ace-em.html' title='Ace &apos;em'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110248866025247801</id><published>2004-12-08T00:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T15:25:25.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So much for...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;going to bed at eleven. I think it's impossible to go to bed any earlier than one or two here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a strange day. The weather's cold and gray and wet and it hasn't done much to fix my mood. I've been feeling pretty gray myself recently. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't talked to anybody all day, but everything that's been on my mind has sort of hit me hard today. And trust me, there's been a lot of shit on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;The prospect of having to select a major is looming. Every time I think about it, I just get more stressed out. I am so undecided right now it's pathetic. That and the fact that my classes are starting to get frustrating (I still love my Music 5 though, Professor Hopkins ROCKS MY STOCKINGS). Even still, the end of semester just seems to be dragging on and on. I love Penn State, but I can't wait until I get exams over and done with so I can just go &lt;em&gt;home&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12 days to go. I know I told myself that I could never miss home, but it really seems impossible not to. Everything that I'm familiar with is there. I'm so glad that I'm going. I want to see my family so bad. I really miss my little sisters. I want to sleep in my own bed in the silence of my own peaceful room without the constant presence of someone around. I want to not have to worry about doing the laundry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny how we work so hard to get to where we want to be without considering what we'll be leaving behind. Don't get me wrong. I'm completely glad that I made the decision to come here. It's just little things that get to me sometimes. I think the hardest part is missing that love and caring that I'm surrounded with at home. At home, my family and friends are constantly there to support me and shower me with their unconditional love (and trust me, I do a great job at basking in it). In college, it's just hard to find someone who really cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, this blog wasn't created for the sole purpose of my bitching and moaning (at least not completely). I think I just needed to get everything out on my first post. It's all been cumulating in my mind for a while now and it's been a tough day. I'll try to keep it light and short when I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, I need sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To bed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110248866025247801?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110248866025247801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110248866025247801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110248866025247801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110248866025247801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/so-much-for.html' title='So much for...'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9511339.post-110246735571486992</id><published>2004-12-07T18:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T14:29:51.263-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Okay. I admit to stealing the title, but it just seems so fitting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided to keep my blog on a pre-formatted website. I just couldn't be bothered to maintain the one on Geocities. The HTML work got frustrating and I had to deal with it every time I posted an entry so I ended up not posting at all. Let's hope this goes better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't got much else to say for this entry. I'll just leave it as an introduction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those reading this will probably be people who know me fairly well. If not, my information is on the right-hand panel and excuse me if I may seem like I'm just sprouting nonsensical spasms of incompletes. Sometimes I can't help it. Isn't that what life is about, anyway? Incompletes, spasms, and nonsense? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9511339-110246735571486992?l=ennabelle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/feeds/110246735571486992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9511339&amp;postID=110246735571486992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110246735571486992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9511339/posts/default/110246735571486992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ennabelle.blogspot.com/2004/12/chapter-1.html' title='Chapter #1'/><author><name>Enna</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v728/Enna87/icons/beanything_sm.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
