<?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-1617220155334798537</id><updated>2011-12-25T22:44:57.301-06:00</updated><category term='embarrassment'/><category term='addiction'/><category term='nemo'/><category term='technology'/><category term='old books'/><category term='smiles'/><category term='inspiring'/><category term='pride'/><category term='books'/><category term='gentlemen'/><category term='sleepiness'/><category term='change'/><category term='college'/><category term='boys'/><category term='music'/><category term='frustration'/><category term='homesickness'/><category term='butterflies'/><category term='contentment'/><category term='hunger games'/><category term='bike rides'/><category term='kids'/><category term='life'/><title type='text'>my utopia</title><subtitle type='html'>"Literature is my Utopia." - Helen Keller</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>169</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-871522251295742439</id><published>2011-12-12T13:24:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-12T13:25:57.064-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='technology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='contentment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frustration'/><title type='text'>I like how I learn things</title><content type='html'>College classes teach you &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8r1CZTLk-Gk"&gt;stuff&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-871522251295742439?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/871522251295742439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=871522251295742439&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/871522251295742439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/871522251295742439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-like-how-i-learn-things.html' title='I like how I learn things'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-176170884614920692</id><published>2011-12-06T22:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T22:45:11.150-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='butterflies'/><title type='text'>I think this is like a fairy tale</title><content type='html'>But you will never know until the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And neither will I.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-176170884614920692?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/176170884614920692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=176170884614920692&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/176170884614920692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/176170884614920692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-think-this-is-like-fairy-tale.html' title='I think this is like a fairy tale'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-5459072487303469040</id><published>2011-12-01T09:54:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-01T10:39:27.748-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pride'/><title type='text'>never been so proud</title><content type='html'>It was gym time and I collected my girls' nametag necklaces so that they could play without them being in the way. They ran as fast as their four-year-old legs could carry them. Feeling much the minority, I walked over to the wall that they were lined up at prepared to sit next to Jo, the girl that was too afraid to play sharks and minnows and watched from the sidelines with her leader by her side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the very first day, she clasped onto my hand and refused to play. It had become a habit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you sure you don't want to play?" Her tiny rainboots reminded me of the larger ones that I owned back in my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes." Contented, but with no smiles we watched. Eventually her hand leaves mine and she folds them in her lap and fidgets with her pink and purple outfit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time this conversation took place, tears were shed before the comfortable silence began. The idea of a shark must have been horrifying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the semester wore on, it became ritual to sit on the sidelines. The same question came up with the same response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I...I think I'm going to play it this time." We hold hands against the wall until the game begins. The first hesitant step makes me believe she is planning on taking me with her, but then her grip lessens as she moves away and she leaves me at the wall to run away from the other kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing with all the other leaders, I can't help but feel a sense of pride. The smile on her face shows no hint of holding back as she reaches the other wall and looks back at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You remind me of myself. Don't worry, the fear will go away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-5459072487303469040?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/5459072487303469040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=5459072487303469040&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5459072487303469040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5459072487303469040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/12/never-been-so-proud.html' title='never been so proud'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-1699275729303285836</id><published>2011-11-16T16:33:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-16T16:37:40.656-06:00</updated><title type='text'>why I smile</title><content type='html'>-because I get to eat real food next week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-because I get to see my family next week (including cousins!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-because I get to sleep in my own bed next week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-because I get to go to my home church next week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-because I get to shower with no shoes next week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-because I get to sleep in next week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...just because of next week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-1699275729303285836?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/1699275729303285836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=1699275729303285836&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1699275729303285836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1699275729303285836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/11/why-i-smile.html' title='why I smile'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6060068771572842606</id><published>2011-11-14T19:12:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T19:14:09.434-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunger games'/><title type='text'>I would like to order one time machine, please.</title><content type='html'>Set for March 23, 2011&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4S9a5V9ODuY"&gt;thankyouverymuch&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6060068771572842606?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6060068771572842606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6060068771572842606&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6060068771572842606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6060068771572842606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-would-like-to-order-one-time-machine.html' title='I would like to order one time machine, please.'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6490463565914963477</id><published>2011-11-10T07:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T07:00:00.337-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frustration'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gentlemen'/><title type='text'>I'm flattered</title><content type='html'>Honestly, I am. In L'Engles' words, maybe everyone back home was just used to me. And I do enjoy being treated like a lady. Opening the doors are nice, and thanks for saving my coffee and me when I tripped up the stairs in the cafeteria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I can get my own stinking umbrella. I can pay for myself. I don't want to hear you say "don't worry about it". I can handle it, and I want to know what's wrong. I'm not lying when I say I don't want anything. Just because I'm scared doesn't give you an excuse to hold my hand; I back away because I don't want it. I can handle being alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a fine line between treating women with respect, and treating them like babies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6490463565914963477?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6490463565914963477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6490463565914963477&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6490463565914963477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6490463565914963477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/11/im-flattered.html' title='I&apos;m flattered'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4139421558153510628</id><published>2011-11-09T15:16:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T15:23:59.650-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiring'/><title type='text'>I held a Bible today.</title><content type='html'>398 years old. First edition King James Version. It was inspiring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I wrote this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4139421558153510628?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4139421558153510628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4139421558153510628&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4139421558153510628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4139421558153510628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-held-bible-today.html' title='I held a Bible today.'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-1179290905028409052</id><published>2011-09-29T20:17:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-29T20:23:31.096-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homesickness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='change'/><title type='text'>things I didn't know about myself a month ago</title><content type='html'>-I really, really, really like popcorn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'm crazier than I think I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I can't read as fast as I thought I could&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-My handwriting actually looks good&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I miss being alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I miss my family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I like strange music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'm not that different from everyone else&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-1179290905028409052?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/1179290905028409052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=1179290905028409052&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1179290905028409052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1179290905028409052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/09/things-i-didnt-know-about-myself-month.html' title='things I didn&apos;t know about myself a month ago'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6592013635789812571</id><published>2011-09-20T22:25:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T23:04:33.142-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='technology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frustration'/><title type='text'>~The Shallows~</title><content type='html'>-by Nicolas Carr&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"But as a device for reading, the book retains some compelling advantages over the computer. You can take a book to the beach without worrying about sand getting in its works. You can take it to bed with you without being nervous about it falling to the floor should you nod off. You can spill coffee on it. You can sit on it. You can put it down on a table, open to the page you're reading, and when you pick it up a few days later it will still be exactly as you left it. You never have to be concerned about plugging a book into an outlet or having its battery die.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You can read a dozen or a hundred printed pages without suffering the eye fatigue that often results from even a brief stretch of online reading. You can flip through real pages much more quickly and flexibly than you can through virtual pages. And you can write notes in a book's margins or highlight passages that move or inspire you. You can even get a book's author to sign its title page. When you're finished with a book, you can use it to fill an empty space on your bookshelf-or lend it to a friend."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6592013635789812571?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6592013635789812571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6592013635789812571&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6592013635789812571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6592013635789812571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/09/shallows.html' title='~The Shallows~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6566688942351105909</id><published>2011-08-24T23:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T23:05:00.609-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleepiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>attentiveness and sleepiness</title><content type='html'>Falling asleep at two in the morning can't be good for me. Especially when I wake past noon. I forced myself to wake up at seven this morning just so I would fall asleep tonight. But there's a problem. I'm not falling asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good in all this? I'm almost completely packed for college tomorrow, I re-ripped all my CDs to my new iTunes, and I'm finding some really good music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For you I-wanna-get-up-and-dance-ers: &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fiziiUldJY"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For you I-wanna-sip-coffee-outside-ers: &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPzI4dpEcF8"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For you I-don't-know-who-I-am-ers: &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIY_2t0ZKPU"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6566688942351105909?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6566688942351105909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6566688942351105909&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6566688942351105909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6566688942351105909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/08/attentiveness-and-sleepiness.html' title='attentiveness and sleepiness'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4727544115685400696</id><published>2011-08-17T10:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-17T22:24:28.707-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='embarrassment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bike rides'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='smiles'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Those awkward moments when you're on the sidewalk and you pass someone either walking in the other direction or chillin' in their yard and don't know what to do for the seemingly endless amount of time when riding up to them aren't that awkward anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless, it's a boy. Then you have two options. One: stop, turn around, and act like you were meaning to go this way. Or two: smile at the sky, the ground, or anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4727544115685400696?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4727544115685400696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4727544115685400696&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4727544115685400696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4727544115685400696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/08/those-awkward-moments-when-youre-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4476321390312780867</id><published>2011-08-16T09:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T14:14:44.487-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nemo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='addiction'/><title type='text'>this is why I don't go to bookstores as much as I would like</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1x9W70LJKVw"&gt;[I'm addicted to reading. And when I smell a good book, it's over for my wallet]&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I'm not in denial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4476321390312780867?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4476321390312780867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4476321390312780867&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4476321390312780867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4476321390312780867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/08/this-is-why-i-dont-go-to-bookstores-as.html' title='this is why I don&apos;t go to bookstores as much as I would like'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-9195255739760846906</id><published>2011-08-15T18:00:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T19:36:07.975-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WARNING: enter hunger games</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.heyuguys.co.uk/2011/08/13/new-batch-of-images-from-the-hunger-games/"&gt;[click here or you won't understand this post at all]&lt;/a&gt; ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 135px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641209959004994994" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CJGrRaELHKU/Tkmakb3jfbI/AAAAAAAAAlw/VDSG3pdPat8/s200/hunger%2Bgames%2Bposter.jpg" /&gt;It doesn't matter if the cup is half empty or half full. It's the fact that it's half and half. Fifty percent good; fifty percent not-so-good, give or take a few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES! To Katniss. Yes, yes, yes. So, far, so good. She looked a little glammed up in a &lt;a href="http://www.heyuguys.co.uk/2011/05/19/first-look-at-jennifer-lawrence-as-katniss-everdeen/"&gt;previous picture&lt;/a&gt;, but as reminded by a fellow friend, all the contestants in the Hunger Games are glammed up. This picture, however, is brilliant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?! To Peeta. I was fine with Josh Hutcherson, and I'm still fine with him. All I gotta say is, this had better not be the scene I'm thinking it is. Because he needs a whole lot more mud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ehh. To Gale. I'm not happy with this picture, but I'm not upset with it. Just... ehh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid to ask, but, &lt;em&gt;what do you think?&lt;/em&gt; Of the pictures, not my obsessions, smarty pants. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-9195255739760846906?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/9195255739760846906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=9195255739760846906&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/9195255739760846906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/9195255739760846906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/08/warning-enter-hunger-games.html' title='WARNING: enter hunger games'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CJGrRaELHKU/Tkmakb3jfbI/AAAAAAAAAlw/VDSG3pdPat8/s72-c/hunger%2Bgames%2Bposter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6490541915016972539</id><published>2011-08-14T23:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-14T23:43:31.974-05:00</updated><title type='text'>[untitled]</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nSqC-dnXbDs/Tkii3S9SoWI/AAAAAAAAAlo/Ou-2uIX2v-4/s1600/dandelions.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; worry about what people think of me. Maybe I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; scared of the unknown. Maybe I &lt;em&gt;don't&lt;/em&gt; know where I'm headed. Maybe I'm not as different from everyone else as I think I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6490541915016972539?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6490541915016972539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6490541915016972539&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6490541915016972539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6490541915016972539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/08/untitled.html' title='[untitled]'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-494462650506428365</id><published>2011-08-13T21:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T21:40:11.131-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Uncommon Criminals~</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JdbmWfgY1l0/Tkc1U4wE5-I/AAAAAAAAAlg/TFRxkokBQCo/s1600/Uncommon%2BCriminals.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640535691252525026" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JdbmWfgY1l0/Tkc1U4wE5-I/AAAAAAAAAlg/TFRxkokBQCo/s200/Uncommon%2BCriminals.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; -by Ally Carter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's taking me awhile to write this review mainly because I'm afraid to say I didn't like it. As a book. And this is where it gets difficult to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's with Paraguay and Uruguay? This is one of the finer points, but it still bugged me. Kat knows the latest model of an elevator but can't remember which country her family is in? She kept on messing it up, so now even I don't know the right country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was too predictable. Hale always shows up. And that's great for the romance and all, but I was more interested in the heist this time. I felt like I was watching a chickflick; Ally picked all the right words, but they were the cliche words. Mabye too cliche.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My problem: I fell in love with the characters in &lt;em&gt;Heist Society,&lt;/em&gt; but they changed in &lt;em&gt;Uncommon Criminals&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-494462650506428365?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/494462650506428365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=494462650506428365&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/494462650506428365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/494462650506428365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/08/uncommon-criminals.html' title='~Uncommon Criminals~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JdbmWfgY1l0/Tkc1U4wE5-I/AAAAAAAAAlg/TFRxkokBQCo/s72-c/Uncommon%2BCriminals.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-7822194395182376656</id><published>2011-07-26T20:54:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T21:03:24.039-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~The Dragonfly Pool~</title><content type='html'>-by Eva Ibbotson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"...Reichsgruppen Fuehrer Anton Stiefelbreich was fully dressed in a khaki jacket so covered in medals that they dazzled and caught the eye, and afterward people who met him never quite remembered his face."&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rBBGAOIYoBA/Ti9wDylFdcI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/exPS20Mg3q8/s1600/The%2BDragonfly%2BPool.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 152px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633844869283018178" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rBBGAOIYoBA/Ti9wDylFdcI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/exPS20Mg3q8/s200/The%2BDragonfly%2BPool.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From the cover:&lt;/strong&gt; At first Tally doesn't want to go to the boarding school called Delderton. But she soon discovers that it is a wonderful place where freedom and self-expression are valued. After seeing a travelogue about Bergania, Tally wants nothing more than to visit this peaceful and serene European country and catch a glimpse of the noble King Johannes, who bravely refuses to bend to the Nazis' demands. When Tally finds out that the 1939 international folk dancing festival will be held in Bergania, she organizes a ragtag dance troupe so that the school can participate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me a &lt;a href="http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/07/leftover-bookmarks.html"&gt;couple times&lt;/a&gt; to get through the book, but I'm glad I gave it a third chance. It is definitely not one of my favorites, by Eva or overall, but it was still a good novel. In the midst of the non-fiction that I am currently reading it was a ray of sunlight, I might even say. Re-reading might come later, but I have so much on my to-read list right now, I can't even imagine time to re-read anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-7822194395182376656?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/7822194395182376656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=7822194395182376656&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7822194395182376656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7822194395182376656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/07/dragonfly-pool.html' title='~The Dragonfly Pool~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rBBGAOIYoBA/Ti9wDylFdcI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/exPS20Mg3q8/s72-c/The%2BDragonfly%2BPool.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-7897940453854775059</id><published>2011-07-19T15:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T15:28:05.636-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Queen by Right~</title><content type='html'>-by Anne Easter Smith&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I recieved this book through &lt;a href="http://crazybooktours.blogspot.com/"&gt;Crazy Book Tours&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cecily Neville's eldest brother was her mother's favorite, and she, the youngest, was her father's. Born into 15th century Britain, her life as a woman was without a doubt considered less than that of a man. But because of her father's attention in the early years of her life and a strong &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vLlYReX72Gk/TiXjgK2P0QI/AAAAAAAAAlI/MlM8MCQiI44/s1600/Queen%2Bby%2BRight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 212px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 318px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631157050903875842" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vLlYReX72Gk/TiXjgK2P0QI/AAAAAAAAAlI/MlM8MCQiI44/s320/Queen%2Bby%2BRight.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;personality, Cecily is torn between following the rules of noblity and what she was brought up on. Betrothed to a childhood friend at the age of eight, she grows to love her future husband before she is totally sure of what love even is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The duke of York, Richard Plantagenet, comes into Cecily's life as an orphan. He is looked on as a threat to the king, not only because his late father was a traitor, but also because his claim to the throne is stronger than that of the boy king. Cecily's father treats him like a son, and when he arranges the marriage of his daughter he couldn't have made a better match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Queen by Right&lt;/em&gt; is the story of Cecily Neville and Richard of York as they grow up together, and grow close together. The two of them are born into the Hundred Years War and their journey takes them from England to France and to England again. Richard gains the king's trust, and Cecily gains her husband's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite parts was that of Jeanne d'Arc. Her similarities are not completely recognized by Cecily because their ranks separate them, but the young girl who wore men's clothes is much the same as the Cecily who wore boy's braies as a spoiled daughter of her father's. She sympathizes with Jeanne, but has to hold her tongue in public because she is worried that Jeanne's fate will also fall to her. And holding her tongue is not something that Cecily does particularily well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the beginning I was intent on diving into the life of young Cecily. As she grew up I drew away from her character because her life was no longer as relevant to mine. It was wonderfully written, and a few times when I spoke the chapters out loud, the sentences rolled off my tounge in beautiful prose. I enjoyed reading it, but I would recommend it only to older readers because of some of the skipping I had to do. The mix of romance and politics was interesting to unfold, but most of the time I got lost in the family tree. A little background on dukes, earls, and rights to the throne would have made reading the book much easier, but I was still able to understand what was going on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-7897940453854775059?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/7897940453854775059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=7897940453854775059&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7897940453854775059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7897940453854775059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/07/queen-by-right.html' title='~Queen by Right~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vLlYReX72Gk/TiXjgK2P0QI/AAAAAAAAAlI/MlM8MCQiI44/s72-c/Queen%2Bby%2BRight.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3334783128753391187</id><published>2011-07-13T13:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T13:58:00.857-05:00</updated><title type='text'>is it too late to change my mind?</title><content type='html'>Is it too late to go back on what I said?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This car is spee&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ding&lt;/span&gt; up faster than I expe&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;cted&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I &lt;strong&gt;don't&lt;/strong&gt; want to step on the brake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;why&lt;/em&gt; did I get myself into this in the first place?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3334783128753391187?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3334783128753391187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3334783128753391187&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3334783128753391187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3334783128753391187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/07/is-it-too-late-to-change-my-mind.html' title='is it too late to change my mind?'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2804405040031360583</id><published>2011-07-12T16:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T16:34:25.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>leftover bookmarks</title><content type='html'>I've checked &lt;em&gt;The Dragonfly Pool&lt;/em&gt; out from the library over two times because I have never finished it (procrastination, revisited). I never get around to reading it, so it's always due before I get the chance. Well, I have it again in my possession, and when I opened it, the pages flipped to somewhere near the middle of the book. A long sheet of paper just hidden by the cover was keeping someone's place, and I can't help but think that that place was mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2804405040031360583?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2804405040031360583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2804405040031360583&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2804405040031360583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2804405040031360583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/07/leftover-bookmarks.html' title='leftover bookmarks'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4676773143674564137</id><published>2011-07-11T21:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T21:35:31.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>views from a bike</title><content type='html'>With shoes on my feet, and feet on my pedals, I headed out on a newly possessed green bike. A lightning bug caught a ride on my headphones, and we took a ride together; past fathers and sons playing catch in the front yard and a humurous view of a dog wearing swimming goggles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love summer. Repeat; I love summer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4676773143674564137?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4676773143674564137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4676773143674564137&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4676773143674564137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4676773143674564137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/07/views-from-bike.html' title='views from a bike'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-8668950950351309455</id><published>2011-06-10T20:57:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T21:04:13.698-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Twenty Boy Summer~</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o9xRn4ld-pw/TfLNCfojrAI/AAAAAAAAAlA/3Ha9J0nYo4U/s1600/Twenty%2BBoy%2BSummer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 185px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 279px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616777128019471362" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o9xRn4ld-pw/TfLNCfojrAI/AAAAAAAAAlA/3Ha9J0nYo4U/s400/Twenty%2BBoy%2BSummer.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;-by Sarah Ockler&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I would have given this book a four out of five if it wasn't for a lot of the things that Ockler talked about. The writing was fantastic; it was beyond awesome. The way the sentences flowed together and the idea was seamlessly portrayed. The thing is, I have a huge problem with those ideas. If it hadn't been for the underage drinking, the backstabbing friendships, the secret keeping, and talking of one's virginity as an obstacle and something to just throw away, it might have been a decent book. That, and rating it PG-14, I will not be re-reading it, and won't be recommending it to anyone - especially the younguns.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-8668950950351309455?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/8668950950351309455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=8668950950351309455&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8668950950351309455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8668950950351309455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/06/twenty-boy-summer.html' title='~Twenty Boy Summer~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o9xRn4ld-pw/TfLNCfojrAI/AAAAAAAAAlA/3Ha9J0nYo4U/s72-c/Twenty%2BBoy%2BSummer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-5445254024734173547</id><published>2011-06-08T11:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T12:00:38.497-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~The Murder of Roger Ackroyd~</title><content type='html'>-by Agatha Christie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been two weeks since I have posted, and in that amount of time, the aforementioned &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JkxpiJBZC2o/Te-qfv9wHLI/AAAAAAAAAk4/42dyCIwc3SY/s1600/The%2BMurder%2Bof%2BRoger%2BAckroyd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 172px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 291px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615894722782436530" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JkxpiJBZC2o/Te-qfv9wHLI/AAAAAAAAAk4/42dyCIwc3SY/s400/The%2BMurder%2Bof%2BRoger%2BAckroyd.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;chickies outside the window have died, I have broken my phone, and life has become a whole lot more interesting now that summer is here and my senior year is in the past. I'm struggling here to keep up with posting regularly, and just when I thought I would be good at keeping it up, I fall down once again. But whenever I start reading other posts on my google reader, I am once again encouraged to start writing reviews and thoughts and stuff of that nature. So, on with it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I consider myself an Agatha Christie fan. I haven't read &lt;em&gt;near&lt;/em&gt; enough of her books to officially name myself, but every book is a surprise and I there is something about the way she writes the murder mysteries that makes me want to drop one as soon as it is finished and run to the library or bookstore or whichever is closest to grab ahold of another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Murder of Roger Ackroyd&lt;/em&gt; is a hard book to review, because there as so many things I could say that would give away the ending, and all of the things that I could say are necessary for understanding the cleverness of Christie. I hate to say it, but I think I have to, because there isn't much more I can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to read it for yourself to find out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-5445254024734173547?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/5445254024734173547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=5445254024734173547&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5445254024734173547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5445254024734173547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/06/murder-of-roger-ackroyd.html' title='~The Murder of Roger Ackroyd~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JkxpiJBZC2o/Te-qfv9wHLI/AAAAAAAAAk4/42dyCIwc3SY/s72-c/The%2BMurder%2Bof%2BRoger%2BAckroyd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2242736389593341666</id><published>2011-05-18T17:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T17:33:32.527-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a view from the window</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O0Etw4pJMbg/TdRJCS1OTOI/AAAAAAAAAks/NbWotoHROzc/s1600/IMG_5414.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608187739746749666" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O0Etw4pJMbg/TdRJCS1OTOI/AAAAAAAAAks/NbWotoHROzc/s400/IMG_5414.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qFEZxd72gbU/TdRIapuvZ_I/AAAAAAAAAkk/76fU5ZTnpDA/s1600/IMG_5432.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608187058698807282" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qFEZxd72gbU/TdRIapuvZ_I/AAAAAAAAAkk/76fU5ZTnpDA/s400/IMG_5432.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mommy and Daddy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H68z3_iDW4A/TdRIRnjgkUI/AAAAAAAAAkc/x7hvV5E4CM8/s1600/IMG_5408.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608186903496003906" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H68z3_iDW4A/TdRIRnjgkUI/AAAAAAAAAkc/x7hvV5E4CM8/s400/IMG_5408.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Hatched on May 15, 2011&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ppEyUScvxAQ/TdRIRJhEYfI/AAAAAAAAAkU/TzfTJOI7EHg/s1600/IMG_5417.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608186895432704498" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ppEyUScvxAQ/TdRIRJhEYfI/AAAAAAAAAkU/TzfTJOI7EHg/s400/IMG_5417.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7xdOTMvJGhE/TdRIQ7BqgBI/AAAAAAAAAkM/Gqenf0Y8K-8/s1600/IMG_5406.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608186891542888466" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7xdOTMvJGhE/TdRIQ7BqgBI/AAAAAAAAAkM/Gqenf0Y8K-8/s400/IMG_5406.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7dw15Vnl0O8/TdRIQvT5jUI/AAAAAAAAAkE/7tOxhE865e4/s1600/IMG_5405.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608186888398146882" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7dw15Vnl0O8/TdRIQvT5jUI/AAAAAAAAAkE/7tOxhE865e4/s400/IMG_5405.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F-MfabpTafM/TdRIQf1YEgI/AAAAAAAAAj8/ukDF-RClQkA/s1600/IMG_5398.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608186884243591682" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F-MfabpTafM/TdRIQf1YEgI/AAAAAAAAAj8/ukDF-RClQkA/s400/IMG_5398.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2242736389593341666?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2242736389593341666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2242736389593341666&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2242736389593341666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2242736389593341666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/05/view-from-window.html' title='a view from the window'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O0Etw4pJMbg/TdRJCS1OTOI/AAAAAAAAAks/NbWotoHROzc/s72-c/IMG_5414.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-7512290800252145792</id><published>2011-05-15T18:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T18:09:53.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>because I'm getting back on track</title><content type='html'>What is this? Three days in a row? My goodness, what happened to your best friend, procrastination?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully, he has taken a long vacation because he's smelly and really picky and just darn annoying. I can handle it without him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, summer is basically here, and that means the end of due dates. So yes, I am getting back on track.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-7512290800252145792?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/7512290800252145792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=7512290800252145792&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7512290800252145792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7512290800252145792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/05/because-im-getting-back-on-track.html' title='because I&apos;m getting back on track'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6070295988808051383</id><published>2011-05-14T15:13:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T15:23:07.646-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Entwined~</title><content type='html'>-&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jrjuAXfGhDI/Tc7kGehLZXI/AAAAAAAAAj0/LlzRJhE2vs4/s1600/Entwined.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 172px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 270px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606669386045416818" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jrjuAXfGhDI/Tc7kGehLZXI/AAAAAAAAAj0/LlzRJhE2vs4/s320/Entwined.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;by Heather Dixon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just found out recently that I love fairy tales; I love happily ever afters. Call it cheesy or boring, but when everything works out at the end, it makes it that much better of a book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entwined was a fairy tale that I loved from the start, and as I moved throughout the pages, my enjoyment didn't grow, but stayed at a steady pace. It's not one that will be going on my favorite-books-of-all-time list, but it was still a refreshing piece to read. Not all books have to be your favorite. Wthout the mediocre ones, your favorites wouldn't be so spectacular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes, go ahead and read it. And sometimes you may laugh at the predictability of it, and sometimes you will call it cheesy, but in the end, you will like it. That is, if you like happily ever afters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6070295988808051383?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6070295988808051383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6070295988808051383&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6070295988808051383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6070295988808051383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/05/entwined.html' title='~Entwined~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jrjuAXfGhDI/Tc7kGehLZXI/AAAAAAAAAj0/LlzRJhE2vs4/s72-c/Entwined.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-5515484014147906150</id><published>2011-05-13T19:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T20:00:20.412-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I know I'm not the only one</title><content type='html'>dreaming of running barefoot through the thick grass and the driveways and the sidewalks - and sitting on the floor cleaning the dirt and grass stains off my soles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreaming of feeling the sun's rays across my back and shoulders and arms - and sitting on the floor putting on &lt;em&gt;more&lt;/em&gt; aloe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreaming of licking and slurping ice-cream after popcicle after ice-cream - and sitting on the floor trying to rub out the stains from the melting deserts from my most-favorite skirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreaming of picking dandilions and lilies and violets - and sitting on the floor itching and scratching because I don't know a &lt;em&gt;thing&lt;/em&gt; about flowers and might have grabbed something green and leafy that I wasn't supposed to pick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreaming of reading book after book after glorious book - and sitting on the floor trying to catch up on sleep. (I hope you catch that this one was a stretch. Just bare with me here. You're almost to the end.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreaming of playing for seemingly endless hours of frisbee and soccer and, well, anything else we can find in the garage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreaming of summer. The tubing and camps and cousins, all meshed into that one word that when spoken, students in classrooms turn their heads swiftly to the windows, and in unison let out a sigh that is understood by all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. ten days&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-5515484014147906150?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/5515484014147906150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=5515484014147906150&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5515484014147906150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5515484014147906150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-know-im-not-only-one.html' title='I know I&apos;m not the only one'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4400655232456720788</id><published>2011-05-09T20:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T20:57:16.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss stepping out from the library with an armful of books, deciding which to read first on the trip home</title><content type='html'>Now I have to pay attention to my driving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4400655232456720788?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4400655232456720788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4400655232456720788&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4400655232456720788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4400655232456720788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-miss-stepping-out-from-library-with.html' title='I miss stepping out from the library with an armful of books, deciding which to read first on the trip home'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-5583060517682457758</id><published>2011-04-05T11:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T16:07:20.087-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Inkheart~</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XOcNnGB1gNU/TZuEdQ_ibsI/AAAAAAAAAjo/eWqevEAl-mE/s1600/inkheart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 253px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XOcNnGB1gNU/TZuEdQ_ibsI/AAAAAAAAAjo/eWqevEAl-mE/s320/inkheart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592209000623140546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;-by Cornelia Funke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truly, truly a great story. The idea was fresh to me, and it was very easy to get into. But that was about it; once I was in it, it felt like it was dragging on for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels horrible to say it, but I honestly wanted it to just end so I could be done with it, and I've never felt that way about a book before. Don't take this the wrong way, the characters were wonderful and I loved the plot line, but it took forever for things to get going and happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plus side to such a long book is the descriptions. They were good, if not a little drawn-out. I probably won't be looking to this book again for a re-read, but it was nice to read about someone who enjoys reading, and actually lived out an adventure inside and outside of her books.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-5583060517682457758?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/5583060517682457758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=5583060517682457758&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5583060517682457758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5583060517682457758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/04/inkheart.html' title='~Inkheart~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XOcNnGB1gNU/TZuEdQ_ibsI/AAAAAAAAAjo/eWqevEAl-mE/s72-c/inkheart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-1438916147414047550</id><published>2011-04-04T15:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T15:40:04.628-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a lack of words</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I seriously thought I would get back to posting more consistently. And I have the time now, I just don't have anything to post about. So, if you want to hear anything from me, let me know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-1438916147414047550?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/1438916147414047550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=1438916147414047550&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1438916147414047550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1438916147414047550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/04/lack-of-words.html' title='a lack of words'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3793587362927681560</id><published>2011-02-11T16:37:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T15:32:21.119-06:00</updated><title type='text'>dancing and spinning and looking like a fool</title><content type='html'>Well, hello there. Haven't seen you in &lt;a href="http://www.wikihow.com/Procrastinate"&gt;awhile&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is going to be one of those infamous "uptade" posts that I personally don't like reading; but somehow I feel it is necessary due to my most unexplained absence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't say anything interesting has been going on. My room has turned purple, I have turned 18, and I survived that blizzard that had everyone talking. Other than that, things have pretty much stayed the same, and I can't complain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, but there &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; something else. I certainly did read a lot. Wanna hear it? Too bad, I'm putting them down anyway!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scumble&lt;/em&gt; by Ingrid Law: 4 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You Were Made to Make a Difference&lt;/em&gt; by Max Lucado: 2 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Trouble&lt;/em&gt; by Gary D. Schmidt: 5 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone&lt;/em&gt; by J.K. Rowling: 4 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets&lt;/em&gt; by J.K. Rowling: 3 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban&lt;/em&gt; by J.K. Rowling: 4 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hope Was Here&lt;/em&gt; by Joan Bauer: 4 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Year the Swallows Came Early&lt;/em&gt; by Kathryn Fitzmaurice: 3 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Crazy Love&lt;/em&gt; by Francis Chan: 3 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mara, Daughther of the Nile&lt;/em&gt; by Eloise Jarvis McGraw: 5 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cry, the Beloved Country&lt;/em&gt; by Alan Paton: 3 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Coffeehouse Angel&lt;/em&gt; by Suzanne Selfors: 3 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A Curse Dark as Gold&lt;/em&gt; by Elizabeth C. Bunce: 3 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Candor&lt;/em&gt; by Pam Bachorz: 4 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When You Reach Me&lt;/em&gt; by Rebecca Stead: 3 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A Wrinkle in Time&lt;/em&gt; by Madeleine L'Engle: 4 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Any Which Wall&lt;/em&gt; by Laurel Snyder: 4 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Magician's Nephew&lt;/em&gt; by C.S. Lewis: 4 out of 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Walking with God&lt;/em&gt; by John Elderge: 2 out of 5&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3793587362927681560?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3793587362927681560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3793587362927681560&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3793587362927681560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3793587362927681560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2011/02/dancing-and-spinning-and-looking-like.html' title='dancing and spinning and looking like a fool'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-8140475996386609263</id><published>2010-12-11T12:51:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T13:07:46.145-06:00</updated><title type='text'>dawn treador</title><content type='html'>"Hurry up! We've got to get our tickiets before the seats fill up!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maggie, no one cares about this movie," said Christy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We make our way to the ticket counter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christy is up first. "One for Dawn Treador," she tells the ticket-guy. I am bouncy. I am gittery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An ackward moment passes. He says, "I've never heard of that movie before."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confusion. "The Voyage of the Dawn Treador?" Christy asks again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nope." I have to stop my jaw from dropping. It's the premere night for heaven's sakes. "Oh! The Chronicoles of Narnia?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes..." She gets her ticket. Then I get mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We start our way to the movie theatre. "See," she says. "Nobody cares about this movie."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-8140475996386609263?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/8140475996386609263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=8140475996386609263&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8140475996386609263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8140475996386609263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/12/dawn-treador.html' title='dawn treador'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-8552426784453436717</id><published>2010-11-28T20:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T20:55:20.629-06:00</updated><title type='text'>and I was writing my research paper</title><content type='html'>The Word document was open, and Switchfoot was playing. I was writing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"...responsible for the aforementioned-"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aforementioned? There's no way my teacher is ever going to believe a senior in high school chose that word-chose that word &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; knew what it meant...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"...responsible for these-"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;these? Now I sound like a third grader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great! She'll love it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-8552426784453436717?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/8552426784453436717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=8552426784453436717&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8552426784453436717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8552426784453436717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/11/and-i-was-writing-my-research-paper.html' title='and I was writing my research paper'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3653621928813963976</id><published>2010-11-10T14:53:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T14:58:30.363-06:00</updated><title type='text'>out of context</title><content type='html'>Taking things out of context is not good. Everyone knows that, right? I'm not the only one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, changing quotes to make them say what you want them to say is fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Manipulating is different from lying," says Mrs. A, my English teacher, on the subject of our research paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, then, what is it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3653621928813963976?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3653621928813963976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3653621928813963976&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3653621928813963976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3653621928813963976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/11/out-of-context.html' title='out of context'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6903823474865055627</id><published>2010-11-09T16:40:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-09T16:55:07.720-06:00</updated><title type='text'>sunshine, won't you be my mother?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TNnN_LAeiLI/AAAAAAAAAjY/gM5kjy8xnNM/s1600/IMG_3482.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 323px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537683701998979250" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TNnN_LAeiLI/AAAAAAAAAjY/gM5kjy8xnNM/s320/IMG_3482.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The worst part about getting an new book-yes, there is actually a &lt;em&gt;worst&lt;/em&gt; part-is when you have to stop reading it but have no bookmark. You started it in excitement without thinking about stoping, so naturally, you didn't think of something to hold your place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During my summer vacation, there was this lovely time during the day when I took a book outside and sat down to read. Unfortunately, I had to stop, and of course I didn't bring a bookmark. But, oh look, there's a tree. Yes, I'll just take this one leaf, if you don't mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had the leaf pressed in many different pages in many different books. But it has gotten to the point of cracking and crumpling. And then there are these little pieces of leaf on my carpet and on my desk. And sometimes they get in the space between the pages where they stick there because your finger doesn't fit. So you shake the book frantically and get frustrated when you get part of it out but then it breaks. Yes, I have plenty of experience with this, why do you ask? ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've had enough of the book-shaking and have decided this cracking and crumpling has got to stop. It served me well, and I even got complimented on being creative when someone spotted the leaf. I had to take a picture of it before I let it go however, but then I put it in the palm of my hand and crushed it-never again would it torment me inbetween pages.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6903823474865055627?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6903823474865055627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6903823474865055627&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6903823474865055627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6903823474865055627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/11/sunshine-wont-you-be-my-mother.html' title='sunshine, won&apos;t you be my mother?'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TNnN_LAeiLI/AAAAAAAAAjY/gM5kjy8xnNM/s72-c/IMG_3482.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-7116655628772455294</id><published>2010-11-04T20:08:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T20:37:39.319-05:00</updated><title type='text'>books read in october (and one in november)</title><content type='html'>Life is crazy. Let me tell you that. And although it &lt;em&gt;looks&lt;/em&gt; like my life is at a standstill due to the dry content of this blog the last month, it surely isn't. I've learned a lot the last couple weeks, and things are sifting through my muddled brain more clearly. And I have many, many plans. But first of all, let me report on my book life that you thought was dead(in no particular order):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;em&gt;Water Keep&lt;/em&gt; by Scott Savage&lt;br /&gt;4 out of 5 stars. This is where I fell in love with the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;em&gt;Land Keep&lt;/em&gt; by Scott Savage&lt;br /&gt;5 out of 5 stars. And this is where I can't wait until the next books come out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;em&gt;The Red Pyramid&lt;/em&gt; by Rick Riordan&lt;br /&gt;4 out of 5 stars. It took awhile to get into it, but the end justified the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;em&gt;One False Note&lt;/em&gt; by Gordon Korman&lt;br /&gt;2 out of 5 stars. I was very dissapointed with this one, but I am told that the furthur the series goes, the better it gets... hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;em&gt;The London Eye Mystery&lt;/em&gt; by Siobhan Dowd&lt;br /&gt;3 out of 5 stars. Remember &lt;a href="http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/curious-incident-of-dog-in-night-time.html"&gt;this book&lt;/a&gt;? Well, I say its a much better version of it. A &lt;em&gt;much&lt;/em&gt; better version.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;em&gt;A Ring of Endless Light&lt;/em&gt; by Madeleine L'Engle&lt;br /&gt;5 out of 5 stars. Definitely a re-read. And definitely one that requires time to just. think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that sums up my books:) And as the texters say, ttyl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVbkz_3lO3c"&gt;this song&lt;/a&gt; has been stuck in my head all day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-7116655628772455294?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/7116655628772455294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=7116655628772455294&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7116655628772455294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7116655628772455294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/11/books-read-in-october-and-one-in.html' title='books read in october (and one in november)'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-1544493919543784423</id><published>2010-10-18T17:24:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T17:24:57.449-05:00</updated><title type='text'>if you act stupid to attract boys, you'll attract stupid boys</title><content type='html'>'nuff said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-1544493919543784423?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/1544493919543784423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=1544493919543784423&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1544493919543784423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1544493919543784423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/10/if-you-act-stupid-to-attract-boys-youll.html' title='if you act stupid to attract boys, you&apos;ll attract stupid boys'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-7491886416246777063</id><published>2010-10-13T22:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T22:21:32.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>finishing and beginning are about the same</title><content type='html'>She threatened she was going to take it back to college with her. And I frantically started reading it becuase I wanted to finish it before she left. I went to school the next day, and when I came home, she had already gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the book, &lt;em&gt;Crazy Love&lt;/em&gt;, was where I left it the previous night. On the counter with my fraying book mark sticking out both ends. Maybe she left it for me because she knew I didn't finish it; maybe she just forgot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know this. Whether she left it purposely or not, at least she loves me in her subconsious:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-7491886416246777063?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/7491886416246777063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=7491886416246777063&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7491886416246777063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7491886416246777063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/10/finishing-and-beginning-are-about-same.html' title='finishing and beginning are about the same'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-696670132231366929</id><published>2010-10-12T17:37:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T17:59:41.868-05:00</updated><title type='text'>using a paper clip to sync my ipod</title><content type='html'>i write on myself with pen and permanent marker not for reminders but because i want someone someday to come up and ask me about it. i wrap scarves around my neck and dress up wearing sweaters acting like a lunatic with teased hair and dancing to music in my bedroom with my sister not for the moment but because i want someday her to look back to our memories when i move away. i change my handwritting constantly not because i think its ugly or too small or too big or there's a prettier way to do it but because someday i hope i can get away with forging a document without any practice. i study hard and read good books that don't always have fictional characters not becuase i enjoy them entirely and always but because someday i hope i can tell someone something they never even thought of before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 208px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 258px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527297415878478946" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TLTntwFfDGI/AAAAAAAAAjA/59V9A7IhKkk/s200/IMG_3304.JPG" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-696670132231366929?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/696670132231366929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=696670132231366929&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/696670132231366929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/696670132231366929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/10/using-paper-clip-to-sync-my-ipod.html' title='using a paper clip to sync my ipod'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TLTntwFfDGI/AAAAAAAAAjA/59V9A7IhKkk/s72-c/IMG_3304.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-8479633840760962636</id><published>2010-10-06T19:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T20:19:22.168-05:00</updated><title type='text'>**my life?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;One of the concepts that most people have a difficult time understanding is that the life they are living is not their own. It's God's. There are no "buts" or "if"'s there. Your life is God's, and it never was, and never will be yours.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I find it amazing that music and the arts are so powerful. Because if it's a famous or catchy song, the lyrics will be stuck in your head, and you may not even notice that lies are being implemented.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SKFwtgUJHs"&gt;It's My Life&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; -&lt;/em&gt; Bon Jov&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's my life, it's now or never. I ain't gonna live forever, I just wanna live while I'm alive.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXE0MOzI-vQ"&gt;Awake and Alive&lt;/a&gt; - Skillet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now it's my time, I'll do what I want, 'cus this is my life.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWArhq3FUEY&amp;amp;annotation_id=annotation_320845&amp;amp;feature=iv"&gt;This is your life&lt;/a&gt; - Switchfoot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;This is your life, are you who you want to be? This is your life, is it everything that you dreamed it would be?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n0_pzJfrqiU"&gt;Don't Waste Your Life&lt;/a&gt; - LaCrae&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't wanna waste my life, life life. Don't wanna waste my, don't wanna waste my life.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now, after you realize that this life is not your own, you realize that these songs must be wrong. They all claim their lives. They all take possession.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now, you may also be saying, "Wait a second. Aren't those last three Christian bands?" Well, yes. Yes they are. Am I saying that they are wrong? ...maybe.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you look at the entirety of Switchfoot's and LaCrae's songs, it is obvious that that they are taking possession. But look at who they are "taking possession" from. This is different. And you may argue, but I believe that it is.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TK0dJ-yEbqI/AAAAAAAAAiY/WbQHglpN1pw/s1600/The+Beautiful+Letdown.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 154px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 152px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525104375162498722" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TK0dJ-yEbqI/AAAAAAAAAiY/WbQHglpN1pw/s320/The+Beautiful+Letdown.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When Switchfoot claims life, *they are asking the question, "Are you living up to who you want to be? Because you've only got one life, and tomorrow is already gone." They are not stating that one should do whatever they want because it's their life, and no one can tell them what to do. They are not taking possession from God.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TK0eUmf5jdI/AAAAAAAAAi4/IBPSAG8PgT4/s1600/Rebel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 159px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 156px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525105657134026194" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TK0eUmf5jdI/AAAAAAAAAi4/IBPSAG8PgT4/s200/Rebel.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;LaCrae is *basically saying the same thing. He raps the gospel and sings about how life without Christ is nothing compared to what it could be like with Him. He tries to tell people that living with Christ is so much better than anything else, so much better, in fact, that life without Him looks wasted. He encourages people not to waste their lives, and live with Christ.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The point of these songs are to get people to stop sitting around doing nothing and barely getting by. They don't want people to waste their lives. They don't want people to live a life that isn't what they want it to be.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now we get to the sticky songs.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TK0dKabmTMI/AAAAAAAAAig/SmPglcZy8Gw/s1600/Awake+and+Alive.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 137px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 144px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525104382584442050" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TK0dKabmTMI/AAAAAAAAAig/SmPglcZy8Gw/s320/Awake+and+Alive.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The lyrics that I put up for Skillet make it seem like they are taking possession. *But the whole song shows that it is about standing up for one's self, and for one's faith. Skillet is trying to take possession of life from their peers. (&lt;em&gt;I'm at war with the world, and they try to pull me into the dark&lt;/em&gt;), (&lt;em&gt;Stand my ground and never back down, I know what I believe inside&lt;/em&gt;), and (&lt;em&gt;'Cause I ain't ever gonna sell my soul, I've already made up my mind, no matter what, I can't be bought or sold&lt;/em&gt;). The whole song together shows that they are not taking possession from God. They are singing about how their faith is strong, and they cannot be shaken by the storms of life or their peers who try to disuade them.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TK0eUZsFilI/AAAAAAAAAiw/8hMCrG0s3zo/s1600/It%27s+My+Life.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 159px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 167px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525105653695482450" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TK0eUZsFilI/AAAAAAAAAiw/8hMCrG0s3zo/s200/It%27s+My+Life.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bon Jovi is a different kind of possession. He bluntly states that he doesn't believe in an afterlife (&lt;em&gt;I ain't gonna live forever, I just wanna live while I'm alive&lt;/em&gt;). Therefore, he is claiming his life from God. He doens't think anyone gave his life to him, so he doesn't think he has to give it back to anyone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Skillet, Switchfoot, and LaCrae are not trying to take away from God what is his. The lyrics are to motivate people to be their own person, not to succumb to peer pressure, to figure out life and live it to the fullest before it is gone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;*When I say what a song means, this is what I think is true. I could be wrong.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;**Thanks to Worldview&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-8479633840760962636?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/8479633840760962636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=8479633840760962636&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8479633840760962636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8479633840760962636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-life.html' title='**my life?'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TK0dJ-yEbqI/AAAAAAAAAiY/WbQHglpN1pw/s72-c/The+Beautiful+Letdown.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-862266820484915453</id><published>2010-10-03T22:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T22:23:51.102-05:00</updated><title type='text'>but mostly procrastination</title><content type='html'>I've been off of facebook for a while. And although this is incredebly amazing for a senior trying to raise the grades, it isn't too hot for the communicator. Finding other means of communication has been my specialty this last month. Of which included texting a friend of a friend for that friend's number, actually walking up to the person to talk face to face *gasp! people still do that?!*, and this wonderful thing called email that never goes out of style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found that because I wasn't on facebook, there wasn't much of a reason to go on the computer anymore. Well, somedays I would check it quite frequently, but I could go three or four days without using it. And this means that my utopia was put on the back shelf. I am very sorry for ignoring you. So very, very sorry. And I'm not saying that because I'm going back on facebook, I will be blogging more. By no means. That will totally discredit everything I just did. I just remembered my forgotten place. My forgotten no place:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-862266820484915453?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/862266820484915453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=862266820484915453&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/862266820484915453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/862266820484915453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/10/but-mostly-procrastination.html' title='but mostly procrastination'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-8654662172891547641</id><published>2010-09-16T22:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T22:57:02.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>*correction</title><content type='html'>So I walked into the same classroom; I sat in the same seat. The blinds were already closed. A sigh escaped me as my friend sat down next to me. Our class started with a short film, and Mr. P turned off the lights for better viewing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halfway into the film I can predict the ending, so my gaze travels to the window. The blinds were still closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I noticed something. Yes, the blinds were pulled down, but that did not stop the sunlight from coming into the room. The inch of space above, below, and to the right and left of the blinds left enough room for a noticable amount of light to shine through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new tatic: not to focus on the words I say; focus on my actions and my attitude when I speak up. Shine so brightly that words won't be needed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-8654662172891547641?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/8654662172891547641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=8654662172891547641&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8654662172891547641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8654662172891547641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/09/correction.html' title='*correction'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4893120522660939641</id><published>2010-09-13T19:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T19:59:55.221-05:00</updated><title type='text'>so this is what happens when you ask for hard things</title><content type='html'>I stare out the window; the sky is clear but a beautiful blue. A squirrel balancing on a rooftop wiggles its tail as it tries not to fall. I see the wind playing with the trees as they sway back and forth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bell rings that signifies the beginning of class, but I don't turn to look at the teacher; he hasn't arrived yet. My head is still turned toward the window, not wanting to go back inside. I hear the door click behind me as the teacher walks in. He gets settled at his desk and then pulls up the projector for a movie (sorry, "film") that we are going to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still don't move my head; I long to be outside, to be anywhere but in this cramped classroom. I pretend to feel the breeze on my skin as the teacher walks to the front of the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During our discussions, I usually give in and take a glace out the window; it would be much nicer to be outside. But today it is unfortunate. He comes over to the window and pulls down the blinds. I am trapped in this close-minded, cold-hearted, white-walled class, and I cannot even look out the window. I guess I would have had to join in the discussions sooner or later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only, everytime I want to speak up about what &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; think is right, I know my teacher will have an answer to everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4893120522660939641?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4893120522660939641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4893120522660939641&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4893120522660939641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4893120522660939641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/09/so-this-is-what-happens-when-you-ask.html' title='so this is what happens when you ask for hard things'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-8620328494936166201</id><published>2010-09-09T07:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T07:36:15.395-05:00</updated><title type='text'>why I smile</title><content type='html'>because pressed flowers are gorgeous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because homemade paper is fun to write on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because jazz is cooler when it's more than just drums&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because rain that falls lightly isn't annoying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because the hot months are past us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because my college entrance essay is almost complete&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because my desk is clean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because he ran after her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I could fly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I found a liking to good '80s music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because my grandparents came over&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because the guy's golf team had to caddy for the girl's golf team&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because my dad likes to play the music really, really loud&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-8620328494936166201?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/8620328494936166201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=8620328494936166201&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8620328494936166201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8620328494936166201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/09/why-i-smile.html' title='why I smile'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3932974185868964124</id><published>2010-09-04T12:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T12:25:08.888-05:00</updated><title type='text'>even if I fall</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I may pass through the waters,&lt;br /&gt;But one thing I know,&lt;br /&gt;You are with me.&lt;br /&gt;I may walk through the fire,&lt;br /&gt;But one thing I know,&lt;br /&gt;You are with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And though my way seems uncertain,&lt;br /&gt;In You I will put my trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ladies-&lt;br /&gt;Even if I fall I'll rise again,&lt;br /&gt;For You are my God,&lt;br /&gt;Even I fall You'll lift me up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Men-&lt;br /&gt;When You're with me,&lt;br /&gt;I will rise up,&lt;br /&gt;When You lift me up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may go through some trials,&lt;br /&gt;But I will not fear,&lt;br /&gt;For You are with me.&lt;br /&gt;And I will go to the mountain,&lt;br /&gt;And I will press on,&lt;br /&gt;For You are with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And though my way seems uncertain,&lt;br /&gt;In You I will put my trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ladies-&lt;br /&gt;Even if I fall I'll rise again,&lt;br /&gt;For You are my God,&lt;br /&gt;Even I fall You'll lift me up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Men-&lt;br /&gt;When You're with me,&lt;br /&gt;I will rise up,&lt;br /&gt;When You lift me up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And though my way seems uncertain,&lt;br /&gt;In You I will put my trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ladies-&lt;br /&gt;Even if I fall I'll rise again,&lt;br /&gt;For You are my God,&lt;br /&gt;Even I fall You'll lift me up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Men-&lt;br /&gt;When You're with me,&lt;br /&gt;I will rise up,&lt;br /&gt;When You lift me up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When You're with me,&lt;br /&gt;I will rise up,&lt;br /&gt;When You lift me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Mike Cowart &amp;amp; Michelle Valley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TXKPMkYOQI"&gt;youtube&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3932974185868964124?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3932974185868964124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3932974185868964124&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3932974185868964124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3932974185868964124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/09/even-if-i-fall.html' title='even if I fall'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4647806958244024322</id><published>2010-09-01T15:33:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T15:57:08.541-05:00</updated><title type='text'>day one</title><content type='html'>*note: my time zone crisis has been solved thanks to &lt;a href="http://robbiedevries.blogspot.com/"&gt;my cousin&lt;/a&gt;:) end note*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28 days. Or maybe the whole month of September. We haven't decided which, yet. But however long we choose to go without facebook, I'm sure it will be harder than I think it will be. Right now, I'm having no problem without it. But it is only Day One.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://robbiedevries.blogspot.com/"&gt;Robbie &lt;/a&gt;and &lt;a href="http://viathena.wordpress.com/"&gt;Kay&lt;/a&gt;, two of my numerous cousins, are doing this with me. I'd like to take credit, but this will be Kay's second time doing the 28-day challenge. Robbie tagged along second, so I guess I'm the least to be credited. But I don't really care, I'm actually excited to see facebook taken from me! This will prove wheter or not I have a dependent problem on facebook . I always said that I didn't, but I assume I had no right to because I never had it taken away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hope is to find better things to spend my time on, and manage my time more efficiently. Perhaps read, write, or do some extra studying. Or maybe something else that just comes up. We are planning on doing something together, but haven't decided on what that is, yet. This might also improve my skills in communication by other means. Because, I just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hate&lt;/span&gt; talking to people I barely know on the phone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4647806958244024322?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4647806958244024322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4647806958244024322&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4647806958244024322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4647806958244024322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/09/day-one.html' title='day one'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-7480578232076860745</id><published>2010-08-31T22:13:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T22:15:26.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>why I smile</title><content type='html'>because coffee and cream is such a perfect combination&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because our golf team beat our 4-score high school record&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because homework doesn't seem so cruel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because Turtle likes my handwriting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because the mail came and Grace wrote me back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because gym class is actually a gym class&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because of hotheaded debate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because clouds and trees and leaves are lovely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I saw a beaver, and a beaver's tail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because Orion's belt is showing up everywhere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I used the word "sevenfold"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because quizzing practice is lovely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because math is back to numbers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I cannot &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wait&lt;/span&gt; until college:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-7480578232076860745?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/7480578232076860745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=7480578232076860745&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7480578232076860745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7480578232076860745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/why-i-smile.html' title='why I smile'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-8035749196371287408</id><published>2010-08-30T15:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T20:54:05.979-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then</title><content type='html'>Title quote: Lewis Carroll&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the feeling of entering a book and becoming the main character. I cannot &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; do it. (Pardon my double negative) And when the book is finished, there is always that part of the character that lives on in me, or that I strive to be. Different books make me want to be different people for different reasons. And I made a list of them because in the darkness of night, where it was difficult to sleep, there was nothing else to do:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucy: for faith&lt;br /&gt;Vin: for the metals&lt;br /&gt;Kat: for the deadline&lt;br /&gt;Bertie: for her words&lt;br /&gt;Susan: for her beauty&lt;br /&gt;Percy: for the water&lt;br /&gt;Alice: for the rabbit&lt;br /&gt;Katniss: for Peeta&lt;br /&gt;Mary: for the garden&lt;br /&gt;Annika: for the horse&lt;br /&gt;Ariel: for the wind&lt;br /&gt;Annabeth: for the wisdom&lt;br /&gt;Cammi: for observance&lt;br /&gt;Anna: for Rupert&lt;br /&gt;Debbie: for the thought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you like my list? Do you have a list of your own?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-8035749196371287408?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/8035749196371287408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=8035749196371287408&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8035749196371287408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8035749196371287408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-cant-go-back-to-yesterday-because-i.html' title='I can&apos;t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-7166141090044750722</id><published>2010-08-25T21:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T22:12:05.164-05:00</updated><title type='text'>regular</title><content type='html'>I sit with my regular cup of coffee. Which means I will be able to stay awake and do my homework-and write this. But it also means I will have difficulties falling asleep, which I desperately need. Somehow, I think I will get through it and find what it takes to wake up the next morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that the world is beautiful? I knew it, but my eyes were re-opened today. I was outside for my gym class, and all the regular stuff started to seem extraordinary when I looked at it from a different perspective. Instead of complaining of the mild heat, I concentrated on how the sun felt on my arms and face. I felt the power in the sun. And then when a cool breeze came by, I didn't feel relieved because there was nothing to make me want to be relieved. Are you following? It just felt nice. Not relieving. Just nice. Then I saw an eagle flying above the tennis courts. I watched it as it soared for a while, but then almost got hit in the face with a tennis ball, so I turned my attention to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My teacher in my last class spent fifteen minutes talking to us about her two girls getting married soon. I sighed. Not only was I getting an entertaining story, but we were getting out of going over our homework!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At golf practice, everyone seemed a whole lot cheerier. I don't even know if that is a word. But I just made it if it isn't. I was hitting the balls straight, and we had a friendly verbal fight with the boys' golf team when they tried to take over &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;our&lt;/span&gt; putting green:).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to my cousin for about an hour: 45 minutes longer than we should have. I don't even remember what exactly it was that we talked about. I just remembered I missed her, and it was wonderful to hear her voice instead of pretending what it would sound like over our emails. We ended the call with me promising to make her &lt;a href="http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/06/mennyms.html"&gt;chocolate milk:p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had our first quizzing practice, and when there were no seats left, I sat on the garbage can, pretending to be funny. I had the two best ham and cheese sandwiches for supper, and then we went to church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our youth group was planned outside today. Mostly all we do is hang out because the church still considers it "summer". Turtle's friend sits on the seat of her bike as I stand on the pedals, and we ride together until my arms get sore and her hamstrings start to resist. Then I saw the coolest car in the parking lot with a left over gashing scar from an accident I didn't hear about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drive home in our own suburban and I turned up the music to an oldie that I love. We rolled down the windows and I stuck my hands out, stretching at first, but then deciding to reach out to the stars. I close my eyes and breathe in as I pretend I am in a movie: one of my many quirks. I open my eyes, and I am still in my film. Singing, and trying to locate Orion's belt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so happy.&lt;br /&gt;I could never be better.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot wait for tomorrow, and the many days ahead of me.&lt;br /&gt;I love the little things, and I realize God gave us a wonderful picture each day as the sun rises and the birds chirp, and even as the teachers assign homework.&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel like I'm dragging anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I have gotten my life back together.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I'm flying, but it sounds so cliché.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever - I hate corny, but that's all I can do.&lt;br /&gt;My Senior year has finally begun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-7166141090044750722?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/7166141090044750722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=7166141090044750722&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7166141090044750722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7166141090044750722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/regular.html' title='regular'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6419316905476201027</id><published>2010-08-21T09:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-21T09:13:00.141-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time~</title><content type='html'>-by Mark Haddon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TG8b-iU08EI/AAAAAAAAAiA/UdQvcFRhqNs/s1600/Curious+Incedent.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TG8b-iU08EI/AAAAAAAAAiA/UdQvcFRhqNs/s320/Curious+Incedent.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507651630477406274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-British:)&lt;br /&gt;-Interesting plot&lt;br /&gt;-Different&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad:&lt;br /&gt;-Not well written&lt;br /&gt;-Swearing&lt;br /&gt;-Overall morals&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really didn't like it. I don't think I like any books the school assigns for us. Maybe I was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; biased, but even if I wasn't, I wouldn't have not liked it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt; much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Putting aside everything I disliked about it, it was very interesting. The main character is very math-oriented, and gives details for everything. It helps you draw a picture in your mind what he was seeing. The fact that the main character was Autistic was also very different. You actually understand why he reacts to different things the way he does when you read his perspective on things. It was actually very logical. But I still didn't like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone in my class thought it was good, though. I was the only one who did not. I told them they don't read good books. They laughed. Haha. Twilight doesn't count.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, no. The picture is not upside down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6419316905476201027?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6419316905476201027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6419316905476201027&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6419316905476201027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6419316905476201027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/curious-incident-of-dog-in-night-time.html' title='~The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TG8b-iU08EI/AAAAAAAAAiA/UdQvcFRhqNs/s72-c/Curious+Incedent.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3875509610829687702</id><published>2010-08-20T19:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T19:12:28.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>update</title><content type='html'>Other than school starting, getting a new family computer, and putting up a countdown to Mockingjay on facebook, nothing much has been happening. We have a family reunion tomorrow, and I am excited to see everyone! I cannot wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lack of the old family computer has kept me from posting these last couple days, but we have our new own now. Really, it's just a new server or something, not a whole computer, but I don't know much about those things. I just call it a new computer because it looks all different and fancy:).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very happy with my last schedule in high school. I had some re-arrangements to make in it, however, because of some class difficulties, but now everything is fine. I believe that was the longest week of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt so awesome the other day! I was reading a book in gym class (the first couple days we never do anything or even change for that matter) and I was using a leaf for a bookmark. The kid next to me said it was creative, and I just felt awesome. I guess it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was &lt;/span&gt;kind of creative...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3875509610829687702?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3875509610829687702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3875509610829687702&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3875509610829687702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3875509610829687702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/uptade.html' title='update'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3712373080925961771</id><published>2010-08-17T06:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T06:04:00.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Mere Christianity~</title><content type='html'>-by C.S. Lewis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well ... this one has been on my to-read list for more than a year now. I picked it up a while ago, but I was just reading it to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finish&lt;/span&gt; it, and I couldn't get through it. It was ... difficult, a year ago. Now, when I picked it up on the way to our family vacation, I was so &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGnGtU-V9yI/AAAAAAAAAh4/k-C9TLBZoYI/s1600/mere-christianity-lewis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 237px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGnGtU-V9yI/AAAAAAAAAh4/k-C9TLBZoYI/s320/mere-christianity-lewis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506150501463750434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;interested at the way he put things! I want to say I couldn't put it down, but I could, so I'm not going to say that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There isn't any easy way to put it, you just have to read it. If it may be a bit difficult to read, or if you find yourself spacing out (as I found myself doing a couple of times), just start over and read the last paragraph again. It makes absolute sense, I promise you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the things I will do now is recommend this book not only to my Christian friends, but my non-Christian friends as well. If they can get past the title, and read it with an open mind, it would do such a better job than I could at explaining things. (Because, as you know, I'm not very good at that.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3712373080925961771?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3712373080925961771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3712373080925961771&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3712373080925961771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3712373080925961771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/mere-christianity.html' title='~Mere Christianity~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGnGtU-V9yI/AAAAAAAAAh4/k-C9TLBZoYI/s72-c/mere-christianity-lewis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6639211521435623264</id><published>2010-08-16T21:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T21:39:28.208-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Momma"</title><content type='html'>The first day of school and I already noticed a crazy theory...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. A. (but a different one from &lt;a href="http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-teachers-crazy-theories.html"&gt;last time&lt;/a&gt;) English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were talking about how in our summer read,  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time&lt;/span&gt;, the main character calls his father and mother, "Father and Mother". First of all, they didn't take into account that the book was written by a British schoolboy, and that the way they address their parents is bound to be different from the way we talk to them here in America. Secondly, my teacher says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just can't see, like, how you could, like, have a close relationship with someone you called "Mother".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you agree?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My progression: Around age 3, "Mommy", around age 12, "Mom", around age 16, "Momma". Although sometimes the "Mommy" just slips out;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6639211521435623264?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6639211521435623264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6639211521435623264&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6639211521435623264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6639211521435623264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/first-day-of-school-and-i-already.html' title='&quot;Momma&quot;'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4289653910460031685</id><published>2010-08-12T11:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T11:16:00.915-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Alex Rider: Stormbreaker~</title><content type='html'>-by Anthony Horowitz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I was introduced to this story line and Alex Rider was a &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGLSefWsFMI/AAAAAAAAAhw/u5c8joNf8pw/s1600/Alex+Rider,+Stormbreaker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 218px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGLSefWsFMI/AAAAAAAAAhw/u5c8joNf8pw/s320/Alex+Rider,+Stormbreaker.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504193115854738626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;couple years ago at my cousins' house when they had us watch the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZgepEziqwI"&gt;movie&lt;/a&gt;. I loved it! I mean, who doesn't love spy movies and cute actors?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been meaning to read the book a lot sooner, but I didn't get to finish it until about a week ago. I was very surprised at how much the movie and the book were alike. That was my only problem with it, though. It felt like I had read the book before, even though I had only seen the movie. In my opinion, I thought the movie did a great job, and might even be better than the book. But that is coming from someone who saw the movie &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;first&lt;/span&gt;, and then read the book. I can't tell you how it feels from the other way round.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4289653910460031685?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4289653910460031685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4289653910460031685&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4289653910460031685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4289653910460031685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/alex-rider-stormbreaker.html' title='~Alex Rider: Stormbreaker~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGLSefWsFMI/AAAAAAAAAhw/u5c8joNf8pw/s72-c/Alex+Rider,+Stormbreaker.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3059401300230908160</id><published>2010-08-11T08:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T08:13:00.233-05:00</updated><title type='text'>soft spot</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGHq7d8SPjI/AAAAAAAAAhc/hUytVl3S5vQ/s1600/IMG_3109.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGHq7d8SPjI/AAAAAAAAAhc/hUytVl3S5vQ/s400/IMG_3109.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503938526994120242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGHq6nMnVVI/AAAAAAAAAhU/BoGjy6MZ5TA/s1600/IMG_3103.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGHq6nMnVVI/AAAAAAAAAhU/BoGjy6MZ5TA/s400/IMG_3103.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503938512298661202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGHq5rmje9I/AAAAAAAAAhE/0BpFsd124qw/s1600/IMG_3094.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGHq5rmje9I/AAAAAAAAAhE/0BpFsd124qw/s400/IMG_3094.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503938496301333458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Is your mouth watering?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Well, these marshmallow-centered, and chocolate covered truffles were actually very disgusting. So much for trying out a new recipe. I was hoping it would go swimmingly. Unfortunately, I'm left with a to-sweet taste in my mouth and sticky fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least they look nice...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3059401300230908160?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3059401300230908160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3059401300230908160&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3059401300230908160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3059401300230908160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/soft-spot.html' title='soft spot'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TGHq7d8SPjI/AAAAAAAAAhc/hUytVl3S5vQ/s72-c/IMG_3109.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2881764634077112329</id><published>2010-08-09T20:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T18:42:42.074-05:00</updated><title type='text'>goals and goals</title><content type='html'>I had a list of summer goals to get accomplished this summer. I've gotten a pretty good amount of them done, but there are still a lot lingering to get finished. Now with only a week left of summer, I doubt I will get even half of the remaining done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am still very proud of myself. I never &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ever&lt;/span&gt; create goals. Like write-them-down goals. Sure I have goals in my head that I just don't talk about, and just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; that they are goals. But I never have written them down. Something about it makes it official. And official, cannot-be-changed things scare me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that is one thing that is changing in my non-procrastinating year of high school. Goals and goals and schedules. I am organizing myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my goals was to laugh at dumb commercials. It's a pretty dumb goal, but it is great to laugh when no one else is laughing. And, you have to admit, some of the commercials you want to laugh at, but don't because they are just really dumb. Well, I laughed at all those, and boy, did my stomach hurt. But anyway, there is this commercial for a computer program or something, and I thought it was the greatest thing ever. It ties along with my whole "organizing myself" mindset, so I thought I'd give you the link so you know what commercial I'm talking about. &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDl26GDpglg"&gt;here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laugh. It's really fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To Be Done:&lt;br /&gt;-Notice things&lt;br /&gt;-Learn big words&lt;br /&gt;-Play solitaire&lt;br /&gt;-Run in the rain&lt;br /&gt;-See Ramona and Beezus&lt;br /&gt;-Read Mockingjay (which won't be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;able &lt;/span&gt;to happen until after school has started)&lt;br /&gt;-Find an adventure&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2881764634077112329?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2881764634077112329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2881764634077112329&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2881764634077112329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2881764634077112329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/goals-and-goals.html' title='goals and goals'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2763657948201755553</id><published>2010-08-09T13:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T13:25:22.965-05:00</updated><title type='text'>living for deadlines</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I'm just going to come out and say it: I have a procrastination problem. I wait until the last minute, and then finish things frantically. Sometimes (speaking on homework) things turn out fine, and I get by with nothing but bruises. Other times I get cut and have C's staring me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More recently, I've been thinking about this problem. And I figured something out. Procrastination is just a fancy work for Laziness. It sounds nicer, and more like a condition rather than a habit. Something that needs to be cured and treated, rather than something that could just be kicked to the curb. And I plan on kicking it to the curb. No slow withdrawal. I'm just going to rip the band-aide off. It will sting at first, but hopefully - scratch that - it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will&lt;/span&gt; prove to be for the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to have this motto, or saying, or whatever you call it: "Procrastinators have more fun." I realized that in the long run, they don't. Everything gets messed up when you wait until the last minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Switchfoot speaks my thoughts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Last week found me living for nothing but deadlines,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my dead beat sky but, this town doesn't look the same tonight,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These dreams started singing to me out of nowhere,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in all my life I don't know that I ever felt so alive,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I want to wake up kicking and screaming,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I want to wake up kicking and screaming,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I want to know that my heart's still beating,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's beating,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bleeding&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cl64-XHE7zo&amp;amp;feature=av2e"&gt;Awakening&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This summer has been very, well, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;awakening&lt;/span&gt;. I feel &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;alive&lt;/span&gt;. And I don't want to loose this feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I planned on making this summer the best summer of my life. Now, I plan on making this school year the best year of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2763657948201755553?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2763657948201755553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2763657948201755553&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2763657948201755553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2763657948201755553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/living-for-deadlines.html' title='living for deadlines'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6030718092848705458</id><published>2010-08-07T17:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T17:58:40.757-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Michigan</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So our family vacation is over, and I can proudly say that I skied! I cannot say, however, that I could stay up. I got up, but it was so wobbly, and I kept on loosing my balance. If only I didn't wait until the last day to try it, I would have had more time to practice. Unfortunately, my aunt has all the pictures of me skiing, so I have no proof until she loads them up. Until then, you will just have to trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Some pictures from Michigan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3iL8JJJtI/AAAAAAAAAg8/BtEPcuS_shY/s1600/IMG_2981.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3iL8JJJtI/AAAAAAAAAg8/BtEPcuS_shY/s400/IMG_2981.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502803014467528402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My sister, Turtle, and two cousins, Elise, and Ann, sitting on the edge of the dock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hSe3t2wI/AAAAAAAAAfk/Lk0Fdrtar7c/s1600/IMG_2832.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hSe3t2wI/AAAAAAAAAfk/Lk0Fdrtar7c/s400/IMG_2832.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502802027357264642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And their feet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hSj7_jHI/AAAAAAAAAfs/pqSVQYlZHU0/s1600/IMG_2836.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hSj7_jHI/AAAAAAAAAfs/pqSVQYlZHU0/s400/IMG_2836.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502802028717378674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She calls me her "bestest cousin": Grace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3iLcLTctI/AAAAAAAAAg0/-j8bZamUiYA/s1600/IMG_2969.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3iLcLTctI/AAAAAAAAAg0/-j8bZamUiYA/s400/IMG_2969.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502803005886657234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3iK6XqW_I/AAAAAAAAAgs/osmLfm98IPY/s1600/IMG_2979.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3iK6XqW_I/AAAAAAAAAgs/osmLfm98IPY/s400/IMG_2979.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502802996811684850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Turtle is such a ham. Just ask her who skied first. Yeah, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;she &lt;/span&gt;did. I'm just happy that I tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hjHIPGeI/AAAAAAAAAgU/zaU8-boQMro/s1600/IMG_2875.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hjHIPGeI/AAAAAAAAAgU/zaU8-boQMro/s400/IMG_2875.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502802313041877474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Couldn't pass up this pic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hRyQZOnI/AAAAAAAAAfc/7tP3Lw0jFTE/s1600/IMG_2746.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hRyQZOnI/AAAAAAAAAfc/7tP3Lw0jFTE/s400/IMG_2746.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502802015381174898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boat:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3himqrtbI/AAAAAAAAAgM/vx-WYR1JVAM/s1600/IMG_2860.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3himqrtbI/AAAAAAAAAgM/vx-WYR1JVAM/s400/IMG_2860.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502802304327988658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hiWTRWYI/AAAAAAAAAgE/olA-TwvYJaI/s1600/IMG_2859.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hiWTRWYI/AAAAAAAAAgE/olA-TwvYJaI/s400/IMG_2859.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502802299934824834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hTOEzVGI/AAAAAAAAAf0/wdFrrPfpegM/s1600/IMG_2848.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3hTOEzVGI/AAAAAAAAAf0/wdFrrPfpegM/s400/IMG_2848.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502802040028615778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;To all: face your fears. It's worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6030718092848705458?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6030718092848705458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6030718092848705458&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6030718092848705458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6030718092848705458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/08/michigan.html' title='Michigan'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TF3iL8JJJtI/AAAAAAAAAg8/BtEPcuS_shY/s72-c/IMG_2981.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-7786580288216524026</id><published>2010-07-30T11:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T10:54:46.144-05:00</updated><title type='text'>one book at a time?</title><content type='html'>My currently-reading list is quite interesting to watch. It was be extremely high (as is now), but then once it is burned down to zero, it will stay that way for a while. I don't know why I can't keep it consistent. But when my pile &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; overflowing, I find myself reading more than three books at a time. Some I will read a bit everyday, some I finish in a day, and others experience weeks without being touched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The curious thing is that the plots never get mixed up. I seem to forget the others when I pick up another book. Maybe this is only a quality only I possess. Maybe it is a quality that I will soon grow out of. Maybe it isn't a quality at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you find it hard to read more than one book at a time? How about two? Three? Tell me I'm crazy, cause I know it. I know I think about the weirdest things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-7786580288216524026?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/7786580288216524026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=7786580288216524026&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7786580288216524026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7786580288216524026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/one-book-at-time.html' title='one book at a time?'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2698235190722136285</id><published>2010-07-29T10:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T10:33:31.124-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Mistborn: The Final Empire~</title><content type='html'>-by Brandon Sanderson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To put it short, it was fantastic. It held me to the very end, a feeling I didn't expect from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the crazy thing was: I don't remember turning the pages. It's weird, looking up and realizing &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TFGcuqhirmI/AAAAAAAAAfU/t86d2-uSopA/s1600/Mistborn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TFGcuqhirmI/AAAAAAAAAfU/t86d2-uSopA/s200/Mistborn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499348945498975842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;you're halfway through a book when you don't remember getting there. I was so engrossed in the story, the scenes playing out in my head rather than on the page in front of me. Looking back, I almost wonder if I even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;read &lt;/span&gt;all five hundred pages of the small print.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the sort of book that would make the most terrific movie of all time. The plot line continues when you think there's no hope left for the characters, throwing curve-balls just when you think you know the people in the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, Hollywood messes everything up, so I would have it rather &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; turned into a movie for fear that it would change how I thought about the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I intend to read the other two in the series. Let's just say Sanderson leaves enough hanging at the end to be satisfied. But also to want more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2698235190722136285?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2698235190722136285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2698235190722136285&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2698235190722136285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2698235190722136285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/mistborn-final-empire.html' title='~Mistborn: The Final Empire~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TFGcuqhirmI/AAAAAAAAAfU/t86d2-uSopA/s72-c/Mistborn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3626793399985166777</id><published>2010-07-28T07:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T07:45:00.954-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On swallowing my pride</title><content type='html'>The temperature was decent; the wind wasn't biting cold, and the sun wasn't pouring on the heat like I knew it could. I was having such a good day. I was driving very very well. My chipping was spectacular. Putting was taking a little time, but it was worth it when the golf ball fell into the hole and I heard the most wonderful noise to the ears of a golfer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were only playing 9 holes, so it was going to be a short morning. I carry my bag to the 8th tee and hit my drive to the green. Unfortunately, it hooks to the right and soars much farther than I expected it to. I looked down at my club and realized I used the wrong one. How dumb of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a couple laughs from my teammates, I see that it rolls onto a different green to a different hole. How embarrassing. What's worse, there were two guys already playing on that hole! So I tentatively walk up to the green, a tree hiding me from their sight. I take a deep breath. I know what I have to do. And I feel incredible stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk over to my ball, the guys on a golf cart watching me as I bring my putter to the green. I hit it towards my own pin (horribly, I might add), and I begin to walk off the green. I hear one of the two fellows calling out a comment that felt like a sucker punch: "nice drive, by the way." Swallow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3626793399985166777?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3626793399985166777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3626793399985166777&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3626793399985166777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3626793399985166777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/on-swallowing-my-pride.html' title='On swallowing my pride'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2429711427136449082</id><published>2010-07-27T14:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T14:45:45.472-05:00</updated><title type='text'>what I'm lovin' right now</title><content type='html'>It tried to put them in the order of my favorites, but I couldn't do it; there are way to many ties for first:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-0gLxhiY_cg&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;You Alone&lt;/a&gt; - by Echoing Angels&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTcThVJhDuM&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;Oh Happiness&lt;/a&gt; - by David Crowder Band&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=thLdWPr32yY&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;The Words I Would Say&lt;/a&gt; - by Sidewalk Prophets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_i2xsRiXDU&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;Ocean Floor&lt;/a&gt; - by Audio Adrenaline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcHh7Id8XvM&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;Never Underestimate My Jesus&lt;/a&gt; - by Relient K&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYpUGHOZI8A&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;Stars &lt;/a&gt;- by Switchfoot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ueP05bkWVvQ&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;Something Beautiful&lt;/a&gt; - by Needtobreathe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MI76zIAe1g&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext_from=PL&amp;amp;index=0&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;All Along&lt;/a&gt; - by Remedy Drive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u3LHI19xxk4&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;Glory Revealed&lt;/a&gt; - by Mac Powell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nOdHUUgxMU&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;You're the One&lt;/a&gt; - by Chris and Conrad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xboucW89gUU&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;Hope Now&lt;/a&gt; - by Addison Road&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6TifjgRgs5U&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;Always&lt;/a&gt; - by Building 429&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVM85dl-61E&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;What Faith Can Do&lt;/a&gt; - by Kutless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=88xHIwd4CWM&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=AA37CAD4D653318A&amp;amp;playnext=1"&gt;Healing Begins&lt;/a&gt; - by Tenth Avenue North&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2429711427136449082?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2429711427136449082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2429711427136449082&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2429711427136449082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2429711427136449082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/what-im-lovin-right-now.html' title='what I&apos;m lovin&apos; right now'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4752729389017342436</id><published>2010-07-26T08:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T08:04:00.246-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't believe in bug spray</title><content type='html'>Call me crazy, I don't care. I hate bug spray. I hate sunscreen. I hate medicine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I might be totally off on this way of thinking, but I can't really help it. It just feels wrong for some odd reason. This is just me, and in no way am I trying to get you to feel the same way. I'm trying to explain my thoughts on the matter. So don't freak out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that temporary pain can be dealt with: headaches, scrapes, bruises, and the like. Personally, I can get through these types of pain on my own; I don't need Advil for my headaches. Now I know that for some people, headaches can be a real bugger, and I have nothing against that. But I think that the way God made my body, it is enough for it to fix it's own problems. Maybe it's  healthier not taking medicine, or maybe it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt;. I don't really know, but it feels like I am cheating, so I just pass and take the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, when I was on a trip in Alaska with my family, I accidentally slammed my finger in the car door. And boy, did it hurt like converse:). Upon taking up this new mind set, I had never experienced a greater feeling of pain. This was the first time that I had to test my limits. I tried it out for a while, but the pain was growing, and after about half an hour (not so sure about the length of time) I asked for some medicine to stop the pain. Okay, okay, I begged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not too sure what I'm going to do about it yet. I know for a fact that in really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; big situations, I am all for the medicine. Like when Christy got her wisdom teeth out, just sitting in the room with her made me want to take some of her meds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same goes for bug spray and sunscreen. But maybe I am a little more tolerant. I can't handle a hundred mosquito bites, but if I'm just going outside for a little bit, I pass on the bug spray. I'm not sure how this works out quite yet, though, because I am all for the after bite:).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sunscreen is a little newer on my list. Let me just start with this: I don't tan. I burn. Then, I tan. So in some ways, letting myself burn is a win-win situation. But then I get heckled for possibly getting skin cancer. So I don't stay out in the sun for very long, simple solution. But the thing is, I forget that I'm not wearing sunscreen because it's so new to me. So then I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; burn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conclusion to my post? Medicine in moderation, bug spray when bitten, and sunscreen when in the sun. Even if I may hate it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4752729389017342436?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4752729389017342436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4752729389017342436&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4752729389017342436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4752729389017342436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-dont-believe-in-bug-spray.html' title='I don&apos;t believe in bug spray'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2926575869495017365</id><published>2010-07-25T15:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T15:59:32.784-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh happiness!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lh9pEyrOUFs"&gt;This song&lt;/a&gt; makes me smile:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2926575869495017365?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2926575869495017365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2926575869495017365&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2926575869495017365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2926575869495017365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/oh-happiness.html' title='Oh happiness!'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-495931984285142846</id><published>2010-07-24T12:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-24T13:36:38.113-05:00</updated><title type='text'>because my cousins are lovely</title><content type='html'>It had been a long four hour drive, and my sisters had not only gotten on my nerves, but they were jumping on them as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the relief when we saw the legendary gazebo, passed through Time, and turned on that gravel road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the excitement when the car in front of us (other cousins) started playing "We Are Family" so loud we could hear it, and I rolled down the window and stuck my head out waving to my crazed Aunt:) standing in the sunroof screaming the lyrics and dancing to the beat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the bliss when we unloaded the car and we went inside to smell &lt;a href="http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2009/07/smells-smells-wonderful-smells.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/a&gt;smell and carry our luggage down the stairs to our temporary bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the happiness when we sat in the "bus" to listen to the list of rules called common sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the laughter when we reminded each other of the "old times" and the "old houses".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was jumping in the pool with my clothes on just to see the little punk's shocked face;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was crouching to reach blackberries hiding under the leaves, checking them for bugs before swallowing them and being dared to eat a huge one while dodging the thorns on the other side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was bouncing on the trampoline right after eating dinner, then thinking better of it and sitting down and talking about the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was being pushed on the tire swing after the fight I didn't want to happen, and being reminded that there are people out there who are there for you called family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was getting up earlier than some of the other kids to walk out to the pond where there were fish and crawdads and frogs that squeaked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was driving to the park where the merry-go-round was, and spinning so much I thought I'd see my lunch a second time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was trying &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; to laugh when he kept changing the strumming pattern and I was struggling to keep up to our theme song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the late night when the wimps and the wounded didn't get in the pool because the frogs had taken over, but me and the two others started to catch them and toss them on the deck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was dressing up as a glitzy girl and feeling ridiculously stupid as I strutted in high heels and pink hoop earrings, walking like a diva up the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was making our first promise as a band on the trampoline, and making it official by putting our hands in the center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was hearing the three most wonderful sounding syllables in the English language: cho-co-late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was feeling powerful with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; face behind the camera and telling them what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was seeing my Worldview roommate again and swing dancing to no music in the gymnasium.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was pouring water on my sister and cousin from up in the tree house, even if they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; know it was coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the last night at "camp" when we all got to sleep together in the living room, trying not to think about the next morning and instead talking about nothing in particular at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was those little things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-495931984285142846?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/495931984285142846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=495931984285142846&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/495931984285142846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/495931984285142846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/because-my-cousins-are-lovely.html' title='because my cousins are lovely'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-1298615162876943637</id><published>2010-07-13T22:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T22:31:29.697-05:00</updated><title type='text'>one out of three</title><content type='html'>I entered the bathroom and flicked on the light with the tip of my pointer finger. Light flooded the room, but not as powerfully as I expected. I shot a glance at the mirror: I couldn't help but notice how the soft light fell on my short hair (for reasons unknown, my hair color changed slightly when I got it cut, and it still amazes me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was confused for a moment, but then noticed that two of the three light bulbs above the mirror were out. Sorry, I was being pessimistic-one of the light bulbs was still glowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I couldn't help looking once again at the figure in the mirror, and noticing the romantic (literal sense) light, and the story that wrote itself in my head about a young spy who is forced to have her hair cut. My expression turns to pity as I play out the girl's fate. To run and never return...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I get that "utopia" feeling again. I shake my head and the story starts to vanish from my mind and my toothbrush fills my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid lighting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-1298615162876943637?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/1298615162876943637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=1298615162876943637&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1298615162876943637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1298615162876943637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/one-out-of-two.html' title='one out of three'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-5622560784255449454</id><published>2010-07-12T14:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T15:03:40.366-05:00</updated><title type='text'>clean before each load</title><content type='html'>Romans 12:10 "Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Main topic of Saturday night study group*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I write this eating chocolate covered bananas. Just thought I'd make you jealous. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When our group leader, from now on referred to as "B", asked for the definition of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;integrity&lt;/span&gt;, I felt a sharp jab at my side. I glanced at the Marie, the one who had poked me, and saw a grin on her face. One of the five parts to leadership that we learned at Worldview was integrity. I couldn't help but chuckle a little. Worldview just attacks every aspect of your life. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, integrity = sound consistency. Being who you say you are even when no one is watching. The problem is that when faced with a big decision on whether or not you will practice integrity, say, finding $100 in an envelope with someone's name on it under a park bench, most people will succumb to the pressure and just take the money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have to practice integrity in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;small&lt;/span&gt; parts of our lives, before we are pressured with the larger parts. By doing this, we are honoring the people who would otherwise be negatively affected by our "cheating". The person who lost 100 bucks, the clerk that accidentally gave you $10 more in change, the worker making minimum wage at a store that has to run to the other side of the parking lot because you didn't return the shopping cart to the terminal. Even when no one is looking. The worker will never know that you walked back with the shopping cart to return it, but you are honoring them and practicing sound integrity when you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, personally, returning the shopping cart is quite fun (especially if you run real fast with it and then step up on the bar and glide back to the terminal), so I tried to find some smaller things in my life where I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;don't &lt;/span&gt;practice integrity and then fix them. That Saturday night, I couldn't find anything, so I just kept thinking about it...and thinking about it...and thinking about it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...until today! I never really paid attention to this before. I was doing my laundry, and I was putting the clothes in the dryer. Then it caught my eye. The lint container goes in the dryer vertically in our dryer. On the top read the words "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;CLEAN BEFORE EACH LOAD&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;" I never did, to tell you the truth. I always left it there, figuring the next person would get it. It's not like it made me gag (as is with my sister Duchess), and it never took that long to do, I just never bothered to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I lifted it out of the dryer and cleaned it real quick. Making a mental note in my head to clean it every time I did the laundry, I put it back in the dryer. Hopefully now, every time I see the lint container in the dryer, it reminds me to practice integrity, not just because God told me to, but because I want to honor those who come after me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha, God told me to clean the lint container before each load. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-5622560784255449454?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/5622560784255449454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=5622560784255449454&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5622560784255449454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5622560784255449454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/clean-before-each-load.html' title='clean before each load'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3427968334054556756</id><published>2010-07-10T19:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T19:07:00.264-05:00</updated><title type='text'>why I smile</title><content type='html'>because there is air conditioning at home, and I don't have to live in 85 degree weather anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because trees and green leaves are awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because glow sticks are awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because writing in my journal is awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because the word awesome is awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I climbed a tree and scraped my knee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because fireworks are louder than I remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I sat under a waterfall...okay, a small, small waterfall, but still a waterfall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I got people to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;think&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because, well...I can't tell you about that.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; yet&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3427968334054556756?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3427968334054556756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3427968334054556756&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3427968334054556756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3427968334054556756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/why-i-smile.html' title='why I smile'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6218738190885289782</id><published>2010-07-10T12:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T14:49:47.398-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Come Follow Me</title><content type='html'>Mark 1:14-20 The Calling of the First Disciples&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*this was preached about the first night at &lt;a href="http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/some-good-some-bad-some-deadly.html"&gt;camp&lt;/a&gt;: one of the two sermons that I liked*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would read the passage before reading this; make your own assumptions before you read mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about you, but if I were fishing and someone came up to me and said to stop what I'm was doing and follow him, I wouldn't. To be honest. It would be crazy, leaving your job, and not knowing when you would come back. Especially if this person told you that you would fish people instead of the literal &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fish&lt;/span&gt;. He would be crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I thought. And I thought that the disciples were crazy. Why would they listen to Him? Well, I never knew the context, and that's where it all makes sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The children of that time period would go to a school where they would memorize the entire first five books of the old testament. It was sort of required, then when they got older, they memorized the entire old testament. They would know the whole thing like the back of their hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they turned about sixteen, and it was time for them to get a job, they would turn to their father's trade. Whatever it was, whether it was fishing or farming, they would pick up that trade. But the really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;special&lt;/span&gt;, smart kids would find a priest that they really admired and desired to be like. They would ask them to accept them as a disciple, where the priest would teach them everything they knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest would then quiz the kid about the old testament, quoting verses, or explaining what it means. If the kid did good, the priest would accept them as a disciple, and the kid would leave with them to learn their ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;special&lt;/span&gt; and smart kids would get picked. The other ordinary kids would just work their father's trade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why when a teacher like Jesus came to their village and asked the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ordinary&lt;/span&gt; kids to follow him, they dropped their nets and left their father in the boat to follow Him. They, the regular kids that worked their father's trade, were being chosen to learn the ways of this great teacher. The father of James and John would have also been supportive of their choice. How great would it be to tell everyone that your child is a disciple of a teacher? They would run home and tell the whole family, who would celebrate with him. James and John had been &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;chosen&lt;/span&gt;, where Jesus could have picked the smartest kid who could quote any verse from the old testament.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This made so much sense now that I knew the context. Before I thought that the disciples were a little crazy that they would follow Jesus without a second thought, whether the Holy Spirit was working in them or not. But now it makes sense that they would want to follow him. They had been &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;picked&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6218738190885289782?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6218738190885289782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6218738190885289782&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6218738190885289782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6218738190885289782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/come-follow-me.html' title='Come Follow Me'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2241880433904832744</id><published>2010-07-10T08:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T08:21:00.747-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my utopia</title><content type='html'>I guess this is kind of embarrassing. And I considered not posting this, but I guess I have to. I'm obligated to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From dictionary.com:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Utopia (n.)&lt;br /&gt;1. An imaginary island described in Sir Thomas Moore's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Utopia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;An ideal place or state&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Any visionary system of political or social perfection&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's say we all know that a Utopia is unattainable. It is impossible. There is never perfection. There can never &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt; perfection. And I knew that when I named my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I was trying to do was describe a feeling I get when I read a book that hits me hard, or listen to a song that sounds unreal, or have a dream that took me to a different world. I was in a different place, and I didn't know what to call it. So I called it my utopia. My Utopia is that place that I cannot describe, and I don't know if I will ever be able to. (I'm kind of bad at describing...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at Worldview, they were talking about the meaning of the word. It comes from two Greek words: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ou&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="ital-inline"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;tóp&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ital-inline"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ou&lt;/span&gt; = no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="ital-inline"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;tóp&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ital-inline"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span style="cursor: default; background-color: transparent;" id="hotword" name="hotword" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; = place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, utopia = no place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to change the name of the blog, considering I've done so many other changes, but I wanted to admit my folly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is my no place. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2241880433904832744?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2241880433904832744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2241880433904832744&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2241880433904832744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2241880433904832744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/my-utopia.html' title='my utopia'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2893324189742998505</id><published>2010-07-09T18:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T22:00:51.754-05:00</updated><title type='text'>some good, some bad, some deadly</title><content type='html'>Well, I guess camp was a whole lot shorter than I thought it was. We (me and my sister, Duchess) got back this afternoon around three, and I was so exhausted. I wanted to just fall asleep in my bed, but I couldn't because I was afraid that it would mess up my sleeping schedule. And that is the last thing I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It definitely didn't come close to the best week of my life, but it was still pretty fun. I got to go swimming, zip lining, and hang out with &lt;a href="http://horslv93.blogspot.com/"&gt;my best friend&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was also the first time I've ever been involved directly in the cliche "camp drama", so it was also a bit scary. I don't want to go into detail, but it wasn't fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My callouses are going away. :( I haven't played for a week, and I had been staring at the guitar that someone had brought for the whole time at camp. I wanted to ask if I could play it so bad, but I didn't know the kid, and I didn't want everyone to listen like I knew they would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the biggest disappointment was the whole emotional aspect. During the worship, they played the songs that got everyone moved, and there was a whole lot of crying and praying at the altar after the services. I don't have anything against that, but it was all about the camper's emotions. It was a fake way of getting everyone to pray and change their minds. Because when they go back home, they won't have the moving music or moving sermons, and they will lose the motivation that they had during camp, and they will wonder where it went, and they will wonder if it wasn't God who was there the night they made that choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not trying to bash praying at the alter, crying, or raising your hands, but everything was based on emotions, and I only gained a few facts that I can bring back home. I've definitely changed, but I think that is because I knew that everything was about how you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;felt&lt;/span&gt;, and I refused myself to fall into that pit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I ask you to pray for everyone who will go home and go back to their old ways, for they know not the pit they fell into.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2893324189742998505?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2893324189742998505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2893324189742998505&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2893324189742998505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2893324189742998505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/some-good-some-bad-some-deadly.html' title='some good, some bad, some deadly'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2172713936758279458</id><published>2010-07-07T19:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T19:37:00.499-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the best week of my life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.worldview.org/"&gt;Worldview Academy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just take my word for it. This will not make sense at all. And I'm not sure how I'm supposed to convince you of it, but I feel that I have to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Absolutely no doubt about it, the best week of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was the over-enthusiastic staffers that everyone talks about and loves.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was the food.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was being with so many like-minded teen-aged Christians that love God just as much as I do.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was the fact that a lady got treated like one.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was the witnessing.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was the Frisbee playing (even though I never really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;touched&lt;/span&gt; it). ;)&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was the Tally-HO!&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was ... no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it doesn't even matter what it was. But I know what it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was sitting through ~23 hours of the greatest news I had ever heard. Granted, some of that time I wished I had slept more, and I wished my eyes would just stay open, but the fact that they promised me the best week of my life made me want to pay attention &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt;. I didn't want to miss out if that's what they were offering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, this was my second year going to Worldview, and something didn't click as well as it did this year. I knew what to expect, and I sort of prepared my mind - created a large gap - for the information that I knew would be poured into my mind and soul before hand. And I'm pretty sure that some knowledge and wisdom that was passed while my eyelids were a little droopy was dripping out of my ears, but I hope I caught most of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I warned you in the beginning. I didn't know how to explain it. And I'm pretty sure I did a horrible job. But this is just a rough sketch. One of the things they told us was what matters isn't what happens at Worldview and it isn't all the information that we obtain, but it is what we do &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;after&lt;/span&gt; we leave that makes it worthwhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I can share with you anything and everything that has changed after this week, and stuff that I've found out. My plan is to live as God would want me to, and to not just graze the surface of thoughts. I want to get in deep. So deep I drown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. This is a scheduled post, so if it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;actually works&lt;/span&gt;, I will be at my church's summer camp. I have been gone since July 5th, and I believe I get back on the 12th, but I'm not too sure (yeah, I know, it's pretty lame that I don't know how long my camp is).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheerio.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2172713936758279458?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2172713936758279458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2172713936758279458&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2172713936758279458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2172713936758279458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/best-week-of-my-life.html' title='the best week of my life.'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-63785389587918022</id><published>2010-07-02T23:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T23:47:46.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a sucker for change</title><content type='html'>So I was bored the other day; I started fiddling around with design templates on the new blogger thing. They are pretty awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can see I've changed it...again. I'm really not sure if I'm ever going to find one that I stick with for more than a month. I just don't think it will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, after my cousin worked so hard on fitting the background and picture into the crazy html codes so it looked just right, I changed it. Ughh, it's so hard staying the same. I might go back to the other template, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless you think I should keep this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You diggin' the bike?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-63785389587918022?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/63785389587918022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=63785389587918022&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/63785389587918022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/63785389587918022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/im-sucker-for-change.html' title='I&apos;m a sucker for change'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-1629906623480801759</id><published>2010-07-02T18:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T19:10:01.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>because my sister is lovely</title><content type='html'>about &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Only the Good Spy Young&lt;/span&gt;, by Ally Carter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;recording taken about 5 minutes ago:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Hello there, this is Maggie, a.k.a. ... oh wait, I did that wrong. Okay, hello, this is bookworm, a.k.a. Maggie interviewing my sister, a.k.a. Duchess. And, we are talking about &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Only the Good Spy Young&lt;/span&gt;. So, overall, did you like the book?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Definitely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, overall you liked it, was there any point where you didn't like it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: And what was that? ...without being very specific.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: When Cammie thought wrong ... at Blackthorne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, personally, in the beginning I thought it was kind of forced, but towards the end I really got into it and saw where all the strings were tied at the end, so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Mhmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Yes. So, sidetracking off of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Spy Young&lt;/span&gt;, and talking about Ally Carter, of all of Ally Carter's teen books that you read, would you say you like Ally Carter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: And why do you like her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Because... she really expresses herself in the books, and you get really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;into &lt;/span&gt;the books. It's not like you read it, it's, you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;read&lt;/span&gt; it, and it's happening in your mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, I like her because it shows how powerful teenagers can be. Especially the girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, do you understand the 4th book's title? ... Now that I've explained it to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Yes. Mhmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Um before, did you understand? Because that was one of the confusing things for me was that I didn't get the title. I thought that "Spy" was a noun and not a verb in the title, so--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay. I'm going to say two words and I want to hear your response, okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Kay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Zachary Goode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: (shrieks) Haha ... Hehehehe ... according to Ally Carter's description: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hot!&lt;/span&gt; Hehehehahaha ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Haha ... okay ... So, personally, I am in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: YES! That's what I meant, too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, was there any point where you hated him? At all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No&lt;/span&gt;. Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, I, uh, agree with you there. Okay, this question is about the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;screaming&lt;/span&gt; during your reading?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Um, we all know, that Duchess has a problem with reading books quietly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Hehehe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: What parts did you scream out loud at? Without being to specific?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: When ... Well, the first part, when Cammie hehehehehehe sees Zach in London. I screamed at that part, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and so did you!&lt;/span&gt; Hahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Hahahaha! ... ouch ... So, in this book there was a lot more spyness-ness in it. Do you love or hate that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love that!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Would &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; want to be a spy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(pause)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: And why is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: I really don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: You don't know? Is it like the adrenaline?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Mhmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, personally, I wouldn't want to be a spy. It would be cool and all, but I would be so afraid of dying, I wouldn't be able to figure out anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Hehehehehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;**SPOILERS**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;bookworm: Okay, so now this is going to be spoilers, so we can talk about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: THE PART WHERE I SCREAMED IS WHEN ZACH SAYS TO CAMMIE:&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Do you want to run away with me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(this portion of the recording we spend trying to get our younger sister that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hasn't &lt;/span&gt;read the book yet to move to a different part of the house because we just about ruined the ending for her)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: I also screamed when Cammie and Zach were laying on the ground at Blackthorne, and they were watching it ... and they ... hahahahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, okay. Um, Joe Solomon, is he in the right or the wrong? What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: The right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, and why's that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Because, as Bex, Liz, and Macey said in the book, he fought along side them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: So? What if his intentions were bad? In the beginning of the book, what did you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: I thought he was good the whole time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: I thought he was good the whole time, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(this portion of the recording I spent trying to convince Duchess that there really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;isn't &lt;/span&gt;a fifth book because she had it set in her mind that there was.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, why do you think the Circle is after Cam?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Because she is the headmistress's daughter. Ohhhh! Um, she's the daughter of Matthew Morgan!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Oh. Okay, what is your favorite part?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: (sighhh) I have more than one favorite part. First chapter, when she sees Zach, and when they are laying down, at--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: You just like all the kissing scenes, don't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: NO I DON'T! Hehehehehehehe ... Um, when Cammie's mom comes out and she says "Zach, I told you to stay in my office." Hehehehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: What was the part that shocked you the most?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: When you find out that Joe Solomon killed Cammie's dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Um, the most shocking part for me was when you find out who Zach's mom is, and then when she says that Cammie's dad is still alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Haha, Duchess just dropped her cookie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: Bookworm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Hahahaha. Okay, um, is there anything else you would like to say before we sign off?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;duchess: (sigh) Haha. I love that book!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bookworm: Okay, let's leave it at that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-1629906623480801759?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/1629906623480801759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=1629906623480801759&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1629906623480801759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1629906623480801759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/because-my-sister-is-lovely.html' title='because my sister is lovely'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-5724183793546405809</id><published>2010-07-01T10:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T10:43:29.759-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Criss Cross~</title><content type='html'>-by Lynne Rae Perkins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt deja vu during the beginning of this book. I beleive I picked it up before and just never finished it; I am sure of it. I wouldn't have remembered such fine details about it, and I'm positive there isn't another book out there like this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was put on my "read" pile two weeks ago. I just never got around to writing something about it. Strangely, I liked it. It was slow paced, and the metaphors were already on my nerves, but something about the way the characters talked to each other and thought about things made me read with more interest. I felt like part of my childhood that I had missed or forgotten wa&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCy3G0FFhVI/AAAAAAAAAfM/5LLt7InnUR4/s1600/Criss+Cross.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCy3G0FFhVI/AAAAAAAAAfM/5LLt7InnUR4/s200/Criss+Cross.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488963373544867154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;s being lived out in the pages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those summer nights where you and your friends sit on the concrete step outside your front door or on the dirty curb by the mailbox licking green Popsicles because all the red and orange ones were already eaten, talking about things like how the clouds looked that morning or how every place looks different, even if it's only a town away. The houses are closer together, and there are streams to play in, and there is garbage to pick up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite things about the novel is that the friends bounce ideas off of each other. Even if it sounds stupid on paper, the speaker in the book is not told so, they just continue talking about the subject, however random it is. I've always wanted to do that, but whenever I breach a subject different from the usual ones (school, boys, golf, boys, hair, boys, what's going on later), I get a weird look and I don't bring it up again. I'm not saying I don't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like&lt;/span&gt; to talk about the usual stuff ( ;] ), but it was great to read a story where the characters weren't afraid to say what they were thinking, and when they did, it made them think &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-5724183793546405809?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/5724183793546405809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=5724183793546405809&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5724183793546405809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5724183793546405809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/07/criss-cross.html' title='~Criss Cross~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCy3G0FFhVI/AAAAAAAAAfM/5LLt7InnUR4/s72-c/Criss+Cross.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-8417869172898703796</id><published>2010-06-30T11:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T12:07:49.173-05:00</updated><title type='text'>why I smile</title><content type='html'>because I got to see light at midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because (even though &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Deadliest Catch&lt;/span&gt; is probably the most boring show on the face of the Earth) I got to see The Time Bandit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because my finger stopped swelling. (If you must know, ask the car door. He will tell you everything...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I can sleep in my own bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because Switchfoot is awesome. (the song in my soul)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because my thoughts are more focused. (think hard; think well)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I have purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because swing dancing is not only fun, but great for exercise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because I cut my shower time in half by cutting my hair in half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Alaska pictures:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt3uGxugeI/AAAAAAAAAeE/CXkUtLNPNdI/s1600/IMG_1673.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt3uGxugeI/AAAAAAAAAeE/CXkUtLNPNdI/s200/IMG_1673.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488612204857950690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt5gNr-eeI/AAAAAAAAAfE/Is-xWz1AQ1Y/s1600/IMG_1762.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt5gNr-eeI/AAAAAAAAAfE/Is-xWz1AQ1Y/s200/IMG_1762.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488614165217966562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt5PgamQAI/AAAAAAAAAe8/XUX5_NF3V9Y/s1600/IMG_1424.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt5PgamQAI/AAAAAAAAAe8/XUX5_NF3V9Y/s200/IMG_1424.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488613878187573250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt5IK2eUpI/AAAAAAAAAe0/cECBp_Ft2a8/s1600/IMG_1549.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt5IK2eUpI/AAAAAAAAAe0/cECBp_Ft2a8/s200/IMG_1549.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488613752139829906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt4525JRkI/AAAAAAAAAes/U_XE3x_CwYs/s1600/IMG_1400.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt4525JRkI/AAAAAAAAAes/U_XE3x_CwYs/s200/IMG_1400.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488613506264155714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt4mCMaxqI/AAAAAAAAAek/4HKQHJ_EEtA/s1600/IMG_1890.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt4mCMaxqI/AAAAAAAAAek/4HKQHJ_EEtA/s200/IMG_1890.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488613165700400802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt4gRKXnOI/AAAAAAAAAec/3Zmen9XOjYY/s1600/IMG_1894.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt4gRKXnOI/AAAAAAAAAec/3Zmen9XOjYY/s200/IMG_1894.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488613066639121634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt4Vd6AJ8I/AAAAAAAAAeU/Nsm9Xc3KvnI/s1600/IMG_1784.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt4Vd6AJ8I/AAAAAAAAAeU/Nsm9Xc3KvnI/s200/IMG_1784.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488612881081575362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt3HKCt7JI/AAAAAAAAAd8/Y6hbMJJxR2c/s1600/IMG_1443.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt3HKCt7JI/AAAAAAAAAd8/Y6hbMJJxR2c/s200/IMG_1443.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488611535719623826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-8417869172898703796?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/8417869172898703796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=8417869172898703796&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8417869172898703796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8417869172898703796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/06/why-i-smile.html' title='why I smile'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TCt3uGxugeI/AAAAAAAAAeE/CXkUtLNPNdI/s72-c/IMG_1673.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-496147555425610746</id><published>2010-06-27T18:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T18:08:37.011-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~The Mennyms~</title><content type='html'>-by Sylvia Waugh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**sparks memory**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in love with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Trumpet of the Swan&lt;/span&gt;, and believed that books couldn't get any better than that. When we constantly listened over and over and over again to four children entering a wardrobe during those car rides - long and short. We liked to listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when our (&lt;a href="http://firesidemusings.blogspot.com/"&gt;her &lt;/a&gt;and I) cousins took cassette tapes and recorded their voices, wonderful voices, as they read the Mennyms. They sent us the tapes, and we listened over and over and over again to a house full of rag dolls that don't eat and pretend to smoke pipes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This created an idea in my sister's mind. We got out some cassette tapes of our own and started to record &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt; story. The one with the fairies, the automatic doors, and the prince charming who no one knows is a prince. We needed to record the sword fighting scene, and we needed sound effects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does metal clashing together sound like? We didn't know. Later we had to admit to our mother that the scratches and dents on the two forks that stood out from the rest were from a quite entertaining and thrilling encounter with the Dark Fairy, of which, of course, the stable boy won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least, that's how I remembered her story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**end of sparking**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's surprising how differently the story plays out in your head when you read it for yourself...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-496147555425610746?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/496147555425610746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=496147555425610746&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/496147555425610746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/496147555425610746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/06/mennyms.html' title='~The Mennyms~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-309451006737724771</id><published>2010-06-07T22:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T16:28:03.432-05:00</updated><title type='text'>where the sun doens't stop shining</title><content type='html'>I'm going to Alaska! Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been heckled a lot though, because of it. Go somewhere cold during the hottest time of year?! I must be out of my mind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, okay, I don't really have a choice, but I still would have gone anyway. At first I was excited that we might possibly maybe go see the bus where Chris from Into the Wild died. I didn't like the book at all, (just the idea of it) but I still would have liked to see the bus. But we can't because it's about 2 hours out of the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the things that is most exciting to me is being able to see the sun at night. During the summer, the northern parts of Alaska hardly ever see the sun set. And during the winter, the sun hardly rises. We are staying somewhere in the middle, so the sun is going to be out &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;most&lt;/span&gt; of the time, but only for about four hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be sure to tell you about my adventures in Alaska when I get back, but I'm still worried about getting cell phone reception, so I don't know if my dad or sister's laptops will work. Part of me just wants to wait until I return home, but if I can, I will post while I am there. Otherwise, I won't be posting for about a week, and I'm not one for scheduling posts. (although it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;does&lt;/span&gt; come in handy sometimes...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-309451006737724771?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/309451006737724771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=309451006737724771&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/309451006737724771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/309451006737724771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/06/where-sun-doenst-stop-shining.html' title='where the sun doens&apos;t stop shining'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2814560342490417078</id><published>2010-06-07T14:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T14:54:53.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~The Maze of Bones~</title><content type='html'>-by Rick Riordan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Book One of The 39 Clues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;before&lt;/span&gt; Catching Fire, so don't think that's why I didn't like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I didn't like it. I was expecting more of something like Percy &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TA1OfsMUCVI/AAAAAAAAAYM/tJ9a5ybt3gU/s1600/The+Maze+of+Bones.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TA1OfsMUCVI/AAAAAAAAAYM/tJ9a5ybt3gU/s200/The+Maze+of+Bones.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480122627925477714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Jackson, I guess. I should stop expecting, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked the idea of it, though. I'd love to go to Paris and research Benjamin Franklin. Oh, what fun I would have, stopping at all of the bakeries and pastry shops along the way. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know that the book (and series) is meant for younger kids, so I will give it that. It  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was &lt;/span&gt;entertaining, and I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; like the plot, it was just the immature joking around that I didn't like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bad&lt;/span&gt; or anything, but I was wanting, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;expecting&lt;/span&gt; for it to be more like a mix between Heist Society and the Olympians. The adventure that takes you all over the world (or just to Paris), and it is in the hands of two young siblings, and one overacting babysitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I am told they get better after the third book by a very smart little cookie in gold wired glasses named Jack.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2814560342490417078?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2814560342490417078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2814560342490417078&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2814560342490417078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2814560342490417078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/06/maze-of-bones.html' title='~The Maze of Bones~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TA1OfsMUCVI/AAAAAAAAAYM/tJ9a5ybt3gU/s72-c/The+Maze+of+Bones.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-8583719123572797250</id><published>2010-06-06T20:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T20:43:41.451-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I picked up a book</title><content type='html'>I waited a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want to be biased. I didn't want &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt; to affect my feelings for the poor book. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It&lt;/span&gt; can't help but be perfect and absolutely wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what did I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat in the grass with a fuzzy yellow blanket that keeps me calm at night and a red spiral notebook opened to a blank blue-striped page. I listened to music and played around with my newly-strung guitar, the acoustics sounding better than ever. I wrote, and continue to write about everything and anything and sometimes nothing at all. I stared at the clouds as we drive by, looking at the the colors that the sun caused on the ones above, and the ones miles away. I went to a baseball game and watched the drunk fans look for their cars with wheels and doors in frustration after the loss. I convinced someone that rain has a smell, a fantastic smell, after they bluntly claimed it had no aroma at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But mostly-I didn't try to forget-I tried to suppress my anxiety. August 24th is such a long way away, and I will be in school. Its such a bad combination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and there I go again... (to self: suppressssss)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the week went quickly, and now I think I am back to normal. Now I can get back to those books. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-8583719123572797250?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/8583719123572797250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=8583719123572797250&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8583719123572797250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8583719123572797250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-picked-up-book.html' title='I picked up a book'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-7907292147961558052</id><published>2010-05-30T16:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T16:51:00.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes, I didn't sleep again. No, I'm actually sane.</title><content type='html'>But I am very, very, Hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the first Hunger Games, I was excited to read the second, but was a little scared that I would be disappointed. You are probably expecting me to say that I wasn't, but it is much more than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was completely, thoroughly, and utterly stripped of any control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was late and I picked up &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Catching Fire&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a poor move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart was already held in her hand when I opened the book, and her fist was closing. Slowly applying the pressure as I read further and further. I wanted the happy ending so bad. Just this once, please. She has other plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember it being seven and hearing my sisters leave for school as I read on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wake up slowly and find the book closed on my pillow, me obviously too tired to leave it open. I find the page I left off on, an hour and a half ago when I slipped into sleep, and finished it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I close the book, she has crushed it - my heart in pieces in her palm. But I felt it much deeper. This time I close the book on purpose. I walk down the stairs, holding it. I enter my sister's room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean to throw it on her bed, make it crash onto the floor leaving the pages open, as dramatic as I could possibly make it. But a merely toss it on the blankets, unable to hurt it. I run back into my room, climb into the sheets and pull them over my head. I want to cry, but no tears come to my eyes. I'm guessing it's the lack of sleep that keep them from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about ten minutes, I go downstairs and back into her room. We talk. I am not sure how I feel about the book yet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talk about the third book, and when does it come out? She searches and finds stuff about 'a movie!' I am elated for a while. Then I remember how horrible movies turn books into. 'But wait!', Suzanne Collins is writing the screenplay. Maybe there &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; hope...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We search the site for awhile, the depression that I had sunk into the ten minutes ago was disappearing, fading from my memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a video from youtube on the sidebar of the site. It was called Rue's lullaby, and we listened to it. The first thing that hit me wasn't that the song was beautiful; it was a hundred times better than when I read it in the book, now hearing it to music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing that I notice &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is &lt;/span&gt;the music. The first notes ring into my ears and I lose it. The tears that wouldn't come when I was hiding in my bed started to show as my eyes water, and a few fall on my cheeks. The song that they put the lyrics too was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kiss the Rain&lt;/span&gt; by Yiruma. I was learning to play it on the piano, and hearing it now to the words that had no tune before hit that string inside of me that stays completely still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They went together absolutely perfectly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't think I will ever be able to play that song again without breaking into tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm obsessed and all but I really think I almost became Katniss for those 12 hours. I felt everything that she felt, from the brief happiness and joy to the heartbreak and loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not going to read anything for a week now because it will be unfair to any book that I will read after this. I will definitely hate it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-7907292147961558052?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/7907292147961558052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=7907292147961558052&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7907292147961558052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/7907292147961558052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/yes-i-didnt-sleep-again-no-im-actually.html' title='Yes, I didn&apos;t sleep again. No, I&apos;m actually sane.'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-936285399843106798</id><published>2010-05-29T19:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-29T20:44:10.731-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Hunger Games~</title><content type='html'>-by Suzanne Collins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about any of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;, but literary crushes are ruining my life. The great thing is, when you are reading a book, the character can look anyway you want. Of course, sometimes there are specifics like blonde hair and blue eyes, but other than that, you are free to imagine &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt; however you would like. Oh sorry, or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TAHC3RB00QI/AAAAAAAAAX8/9QtycCuchT4/s1600/The+Hunger+Games.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 111px; height: 166px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TAHC3RB00QI/AAAAAAAAAX8/9QtycCuchT4/s200/The+Hunger+Games.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476872876578885890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when they mess up or fall, they do it gracefully. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't realize it until I finished the second book, but they are making Hunger Games into a movie! I'm just worried that they will ruin it-like every other good book that gets turned into a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just remember: real men bake cakes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-936285399843106798?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/936285399843106798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=936285399843106798&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/936285399843106798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/936285399843106798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/hunger-games.html' title='~Hunger Games~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/TAHC3RB00QI/AAAAAAAAAX8/9QtycCuchT4/s72-c/The+Hunger+Games.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2921139024986138831</id><published>2010-05-27T07:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T22:59:17.497-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter One - The Tracker</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Okay, this is the first chapter of my story. I don't know what I'm going to call it yet or anything, and I don't know how long it will take to finish the rest of the chapters, but I'm working on it. Tell me what you think!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I practically flew down the stairs. No one was looking - surprisingly, since it was the last day of school. But, I was using the old, dirty stairs. The path less traveled by. I had to get out quickly. The last day of school meant the first day of summer. And, the first day of summer meant that my test had begun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't too obvious. I slowed my pace after the first block. I looked over my shoulder as I turned corners. I used reflectors wherever I could find them to look behind me rather than turn around. I was being careful; I was out of practice. And, although my senses were tingling, and there was a new found spring in my step, I knew that cockiness meant miscalculations. Miscalculations meant misconceptions. Misconceptions meant mistakes. And, mistakes mean death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had prepared for today this morning. I chose my black leather jacket to wear over my black tank instead of the soft blue one. I wore my skinny jeans that stayed close to my calves instead of my flares. I put on my converse with the comfy socks instead of flip flops. I threw my straight hair into a high pony tail and wore a thick stretchy band around my head to keep my bangs from falling in my eyes instead of curling it and letting it fall over my shoulders. But, I wore the thick eyeliner and mascara just for show. It’s more intimidating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I had packed the necessities. Two were in the inside pockets of my jacket. The big one was in the bushes. You could get in trouble for bringing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;to school. I smiled as I turned the last corner to my makeshift headquarters. My teammates were Me, Myself, and I. I looked over my shoulder one last time as I reached down and picked up my biggest gun from the shrubbery. It wasn’t well hidden, but as everyone knows, the best place for something to hide is in plain sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was slightly out of breath by the time I reached my house. I needed something to eat, and McDonald's was simply not going to cut it. I ran in through the side door, and walked up the steps inside. It opened into a large, clean, white kitchen, and I opened the refrigerator to find all the fruits and veggies laid out on the middle shelf. I took an apple and washed it at the sink. I cut it in half skillfully. Knifes didn’t scare me anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I longed for the day I could once again bite into an apple. Unfortunately, braces don’t appreciate apple gunk. Or, anything else, basically. I started chewing when Sandra came in through the other door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“First day?” she guessed, asking warily. She had seen me in action. And, she was a small, shy girl. The broom she was holding was put into the closet next to the refrigerator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah,” I replied briefly as I threw the core from one half in the trash and began on the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, good luck.” She was more comfortable now, seeing that I wasn’t in a mood. This is just a test. A practice. Nothing serious, I said to calm myself down. I wasn’t shaking or anything, but I was getting jittery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thanks. I’m gunna need it.” Actually, I didn’t. These were amateurs I was dealing with, and I did my research.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left with another toss into the garbage. I grabbed my satchel and stuck another apple in one of the inside pockets with my gun. You never knew how long you would have to go without food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relax, I told myself. Remember, they are amateurs. Don’t be too hard on them. They won’t even take it seriously.  Crush them softly, I thought with a smile. I jumped on my bike. The handlebars were wide, and I had slung my satchel into the basket in the front as I began my descent down the driveway. Just get them, get out, and move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would take about half an hour to get there on foot, so I decided on the bike. It would cut time in half, and it wouldn’t be as loud as my rusty red truck, as eye-catching as my yellow convertible, or as slow as walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a weaving path to get to my Target’s house. I had contemplated on my attack plan the night before. I didn’t want to try something too complicated - word would get out soon enough, and I didn’t need any of that. I would start simply; no fancy maneuvers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bike was in good condition, and so was I. I pedaled down the main street, and took a right. The trees from the canopy above me were creating shadows that danced along the paved road. The houses weren’t too fancy, but there was a certain class about them. I knew my Target got off the bus seven minutes after three. Sometimes the bus was a few minutes late, but I found the school’s bus system was quite efficient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to get to her house by 2:50. Time for me to calm down and plan my attack - again. It was about 2:40, and I scolded myself for forgetting my watch. I was making good time, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I rounded the corner, I looked over my shoulder once again. I caught a glimpse of a figure walking in the direction I was. I continued unfazed, but my guard did not go down. He was a Tracker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time I looked behind me I pedaled slower and altered my path to throw him off. He had to be a Tracker. We continued for a while, every once in a while, I’d look back again. I’ll admit it, though, he was good. He never looked at me…or I never saw him look at me. His gaze was always on a passing car, or the houses that lined the street. It looked like he was walking aimlessly, but somehow he was gaining on me; probably jogging faster when my back was turned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He only tripped up once, and I was lucky to see it. I turned and I could see part of his gun through his jacket. After my suspicions were confirmed, I put myself on the defence; there was no way I could get my Target and fend off a Tracker at the same time, especially out of training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been in this part of the neighborhood many times before. I needed to study my Target, and I had found a rather large section of land that was occupied by a thick grove of trees. I usually ate lunch there when doing my research and my Target left. Sometimes research gets boring, even when it’s alive and breathing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guided my bike to the woods while peddling faster, trying to get to the cover of the trees. I look behind me and saw that my Tracker started running when I picked up the pace. I stood up on my bike, letting it glide as I swung my right leg over the seat so I was standing on one side. The trees grew nearer, and the paved road was starting to end. I lowered my left foot to slow down my bike, and pulled the brakes slightly. I was starting to slow down, but my sudden quickening of pace before had put much distance between me and my Tracker. I hopped off my bike and grabbed my satchel out of the basket as I guided the bike to lie against a tree. I put the bag over my shoulder and started to look for my gun, feeling stupid for not having it ready before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon enough I realize I cannot get to it in time; he reached the point that I had started to slow down at, and had quickened into a sprint. Maybe he isn’t an amateur, I thought to myself. You don’t see that much enthusiasm during these times. I give up on finding my gun and start running through the woods, dodging the trees that come up out of nowhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that I am distancing myself from him, but when I look back briefly, he is weaving through the thickest parts quicker than I could do it myself. Yeah, definitely not an amateur. I pick up the pace a little, and my hand starts to search for my gun again in my bag. I find it, and with a smile I bring it up to my chest. I promised myself not to use my big one until the end, but he was actually good, and the bigger one would be more reliable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was closing in, and I was prepared to turn around and shoot when I heard him loading his gun. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to hear his long speech. I load mine as well, and start to shoot behind me. I miss horribly, and I see him duck out of the way. The next second, he is aimed at me and prepared to shoot. I turn around and I think that I am finally going to be able to get a better look at him, but he stops running and I hide behind a big tree that I took as an oak. I look around the tree and see that he is having difficulties with his gun. He shoots it at the ground, but nothing happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wait for a little to see if he had a back-up, but he continues to struggle with it, banging this time with his wrist. He looks up at me as I lean from behind the oak. I was about a hundred yards away, and the first thing I notice was his piercing blue eyes. They show fear, and a smile creeps over my face as a hunter would do when his prey is trapped. Of course, I was the prey a second ago, but in this crazy world, anything can happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Having a little trouble?” I ask slyly as I load my gun for a second time. I step out from behind the tree and stand with my feet a shoulder width apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Jus’ a minor problem.” He responds, clearly trying not to show the fear that had already been exposed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Should I wait?” I smile again, and he knows that I won’t. He drops his gun on the ground, obviously fed up with it. He raises his hands in surrender, and I walk closer slowly, my gun not fully extended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Fine,” he says, “I never wanted to do this anyway.” He was wearing khaki shorts and a grey faded hoodie, an odd choice for the last day of school. “Jus’ get it over with.” He stares me down, trying to find pity in my cold heart. Obviously, he doesn’t know how many I have killed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I will.” I continue to step closer, increasing the suspense. I love to watch them squirm. But, he was actually playing along. It was getting fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few seconds of suspense, he breaks the silence. “Are you going to shoot me, or not?” He wasn’t really upset, and I could see his smile starting to show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I will,” I say again. This gets him more annoyed. “You’re a good runner.” My compliment does nothing to faze him. By that time I was standing in front of him, gun fully extended; loaded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah. And you’re good at working the suspense.” His answer was sarcastic, but I could still see the smile. “Just shoot me.” His head lowers a bit. ”You know, we’re gunna have to go through this again tomorr-“ I raise the gun to his face and he stops talking. He lowers his head all the way now, and I prepare to shoot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, but I take it seriously.” I was almost mad. Everyone thought it was a joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I take it seriously too,” he said, talking to the ground. “I’m just pointing that out.” His hands were at his sides now, no longer in the air in the sign of surrender. I smiled a little, but it was not a sneer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, let’s see how seriously you take this.” I pull the trigger and his head gets soaked immediately. He falls to the ground, and I laugh at how seriously he did take it. He chuckles on the ground, and I lean down to his level. “You didn’t have to fall,” I said, the laughter still escaping me. The arm that was holding my water gun fell to my side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, you didn’t think I was serious,” he said quietly, still laughing. “Now go away, I’m dead,” he said with a smirk. I continue to laugh as I walk my way back out of the woods. Maybe there was someone who was going to take it seriously after all. I was still smiling when I turn around to look at him again, lying in the dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“See you tomorrow,” I yell, but the dead man stays quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time I turn around, he is gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2921139024986138831?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2921139024986138831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2921139024986138831&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2921139024986138831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2921139024986138831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/chapter-one-tracker.html' title='Chapter One - The Tracker'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-5086264354121998990</id><published>2010-05-26T14:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T14:04:00.481-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Through the Looking Glass~</title><content type='html'>-by Lewis Carrol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though &lt;a href="http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/03/alices-adventures-in-wonderland.html"&gt;these&lt;/a&gt; two books are meant for kids, they confuse me like crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Contrariwise," continued Tweedledee, "if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now read it again, and think about it until you get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I surely don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must say, though, that I liked the first book better. I didn't even know there was a second until about last year! And, in Disney's old cartoon movie, parts from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;both&lt;/span&gt; books are in it. Like the Un-birthday, and Tweedledee and Tweedledum. I never knew that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also hear that the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;new&lt;/span&gt; movie is a mix of the two as well. I just have to see it now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-5086264354121998990?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/5086264354121998990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=5086264354121998990&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5086264354121998990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5086264354121998990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/through-looking-glass.html' title='~Through the Looking Glass~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2233660627279284888</id><published>2010-05-25T16:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T16:36:59.947-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Leepike Ridge~</title><content type='html'>-by N. D. Wilson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the yelling begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, now stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S_w9OCyAzYI/AAAAAAAAAXw/Uh_JboWD-QE/s1600/Leepike+Ridge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S_w9OCyAzYI/AAAAAAAAAXw/Uh_JboWD-QE/s200/Leepike+Ridge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475318558449782146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I remember getting scolded by someone for not reading this book yet. And, just the other day when I was talking to my cousin, I told her how I was in the middle of it. She was shocked that I had never picked it up before. So yes, I was expecting some thing spectacular about it. I was expecting the creepiness that was put into the 100 cupboards. And, the weird funky creatures. But, it wasn't what I expected. It wasn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; scary, as my sister had told me it would be, but maybe that is just my desensitization showing itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night that I had finished it, I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to be studying for finals, but hey, the converse on the cover are awesome! And, my school stuff is so, not. I was about three quarters of the way through, and it was just English and Chem. A.K.A. the easier finals. Well, I got done around eleven feeling satisfied, but not quite as excited about it as 100 Cupboards. Maybe I would have liked it better if I read it before the cupboards, but that is in the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite character would be Argus. In the beginning, I thought the dog was called two different names because sometimes he was "Argus", and sometimes he was called, "Gus". What can I say? I'm blonde! But, as soon as I figured that out, I gave up thinking that the dog was schizophrenic. Seriously, I thought that was part of it until they meet Reg. Then, everything clears up in this jumbled head of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;no&lt;/span&gt; clue where N.D. Wilson gets his ideas, but he certainly is great at making up plots. I have yet to read the second book in the 100 Cupboards series, but I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will&lt;/span&gt; finish it. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2233660627279284888?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2233660627279284888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2233660627279284888&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2233660627279284888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2233660627279284888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/leepike-ridge.html' title='~Leepike Ridge~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S_w9OCyAzYI/AAAAAAAAAXw/Uh_JboWD-QE/s72-c/Leepike+Ridge.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4283064020486455504</id><published>2010-05-22T23:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T23:01:47.846-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my first broken guitar string</title><content type='html'>I want to get a Polaroid this summer. They make me happy for some reason. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just makes me happy thinking about summer. I only have two days left; half days, at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am starting to create a list of all the things that I want to do during the two months of freedom. And, I have the list of the fiction books I plan on finishing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Hunger Games (started already)&lt;br /&gt;Criss Cross (still on hold at the library)&lt;br /&gt;A Curse Dark as Gold&lt;br /&gt;Leepike Ridge (started already)&lt;br /&gt;Only the Good Spy Young *(and a re-read of the previous three with my cousin!)&lt;br /&gt;Where the Red Fern Grows (yeah, I know.)&lt;br /&gt;A Wrinkle in Time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I will probably read more fiction, but the last time I made a goal of reading a bunch of books, it never got finished. So as soon as I finish these, I will create another list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, I will be on a schedule the entire time this summer so I don't waste any minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and just because I wanted to clarify the post title, I did break my guitar string, and I am having difficulty because I have a great idea for another song, but my E and Em sound the same! Ha ha, I am going to the store this week though to get all new strings and a better capo, so it will all be good soon. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Listening to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Only Hope&lt;/span&gt;. The Mandy Moore version, though. Not Switchfoot. Sorry, but I like that one better. :/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4283064020486455504?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4283064020486455504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4283064020486455504&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4283064020486455504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4283064020486455504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-first-broken-guitar-string.html' title='my first broken guitar string'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-1921541042431873991</id><published>2010-05-22T07:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T08:01:46.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the most sophisticated post ever created.</title><content type='html'>okayokayokay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SOOOO. :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yesterday&lt;/span&gt; I went to hang with my friend and eat some ICE CREAM! I had &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;chocolate&lt;/span&gt; and it was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;delicious!&lt;/span&gt; It was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;creamy and wonderful!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went to pick up &lt;a href="http://horslv93.blogspot.com/"&gt;Christy&lt;/a&gt; and we went to her house to pick up her stuffffffff. her stufffffffff. We got her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sleeping bag&lt;/span&gt; and alllllllll the other stuff that sheeeeee needed. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN, we went to my house and GOT alllllllllll of MY stufffffff. HEHE. Then we went to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;church&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I brought some BROWNIES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We WENT to church! church...... :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stayed there to play someeeee volleyball. some volleyball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had some pizzzza. I had some sodaaaaaaaaaa. We watched a videooooooo. (aprox. 11:00 PM)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN we played a gameeeeeeeee. A good game. A fun game. :) HEHE. A fun game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fun game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(about this time, you are probably thinking that someone has hacked onto my computer - no worries. This is me. Just keep on reading and you will understand...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we sang some WONDERFUL &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;songs&lt;/span&gt;... mhhhmmhmmhmmmmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mhmmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mhmmhmhm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dflaksdl;jkawbhe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH HELLO. YOU ARE STILL THERE?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hi. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hi.&lt;/span&gt; fishy fishy fishyfishyfishy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;squishy. mushy. BBAAAHAHAH... BAA. sheep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;HOLD ON!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what was i saying?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ohhhhh. we sang songs. and songs. and songssssssss. :) (approx. 3:00 AM)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we ate some pizzzzza. then we ate some sodaaaaaa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAIT! YOU DONT EAT SODA! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*i just hit my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(ouch.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thennnn we played ANOTHER GAME!! AND ATE MORE PIZZA!! AND ATE ooooooohh DRANK &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; sodaaaaaaa.. (approx. 5:34 AM) hehe see what i did there?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uhhhhhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sdkf;ajkhg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we sang some songs. mhmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(my teeth are chattering.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sqquierl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN we talked for a LITTTLEEEE bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHA  JK LIKE A LONG TIME! MY BFFF LOL &lt;3 :) ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then we started to go home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT IS 8 now, and I HAVE NOT SLEPT YET!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(and I am staring at my Amp) :o)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-1921541042431873991?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/1921541042431873991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=1921541042431873991&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1921541042431873991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1921541042431873991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/most-sophisticated-post-ever-created.html' title='the most sophisticated post ever created.'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-5564046864114841638</id><published>2010-05-17T08:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T08:07:00.119-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~Do Hard Things~</title><content type='html'>-by Alex and Brett Harris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister first recommended this book to me about a year ago...but I can't remember exactly. I put it off and put it off. Just recently, I got a copy of their sequel, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Start Here&lt;/span&gt;, knowing that I would have to read the first, but taking the second ahead of time. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Start Here&lt;/span&gt; is still sitting there unread, but I am to deal with that problem soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;even &lt;/span&gt;though it is non-fiction, I was surprised to find that it read like a novel&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S_CgzAqYJLI/AAAAAAAAAXI/OcXXIMs1j9k/s1600/Do+Hard+Things.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 107px; height: 173px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S_CgzAqYJLI/AAAAAAAAAXI/OcXXIMs1j9k/s200/Do+Hard+Things.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472050345466668210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;; every page was eagerly turned over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing that gets me most psyched is that everything that I had been thinking about before was being put into words right before my eyes. I had previously mentioned in a different post that I was going to leave the public school and go back home to be home-schooled and learn at a faster pace. Unfortunately, our public school does not allow anyone to play sports for their school unless they are a full-time student.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That means me. And that means I cannot play golf unless I stay. So I have to stay. But I am planning on graduating early in December, getting a job during my "second semester", and learning on my own during my free time. That way, I get the "best of both worlds".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, back to the book. One of my favorite parts is the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Myth of Adolescence&lt;/span&gt;. Did you know that before 1941, the word &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;teenager&lt;/span&gt; never existed? A term that has probably has caused many stereotypes to start swimming around in your head. It has such a negative connotation, and personally, it disgusts me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be someone caught in between childhood and adulthood. I want to grow up. This verse is often quoted in the book:&lt;br /&gt;"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me." - 1 Corinthians 13:11 NIV&lt;br /&gt;There &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;should &lt;/span&gt;be no time in between to goof off and kid around. We are meant to man up (or woman up) and face the world. We need to do something with our lives before it is too late. We need to join the rebellion against low expectations and set higher ones for ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have much more to say, but I am leaving that to a future, more planned out post... :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-5564046864114841638?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/5564046864114841638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=5564046864114841638&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5564046864114841638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5564046864114841638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/do-hard-things.html' title='~Do Hard Things~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S_CgzAqYJLI/AAAAAAAAAXI/OcXXIMs1j9k/s72-c/Do+Hard+Things.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-224280721940103485</id><published>2010-05-16T22:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T20:54:16.511-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i hate feeling like this.</title><content type='html'>I don't know why. Maybe it's the musical riff in the beginning. Yeah, that's it. And the middle. And the end. Pretty much. Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZ7XcxPMyN0"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-224280721940103485?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/224280721940103485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=224280721940103485&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/224280721940103485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/224280721940103485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-hate-feeling-like-this.html' title='i hate feeling like this.'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2957335656262331262</id><published>2010-05-16T22:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T20:45:59.012-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I got home from school as usual: hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked in the refrigerator ready to settle for measly leftovers or an apple that had an occasional bruise: nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-nGWY-YMsI/AAAAAAAAAW4/bhZJ_B6YBU8/s1600/Cherry+Pie.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 172px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-nGWY-YMsI/AAAAAAAAAW4/bhZJ_B6YBU8/s200/Cherry+Pie.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470121310381683394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My recently returned sister walked out of her room as I declared I was going to make brownies. My plan was to include chocolate chips that melted on the top, but we were void of brownie boxes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured on making a peach pie, and was in the process of, until my wise mother came home and  pointed out the can I was planning on using for the filling was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just &lt;/span&gt;peaches, not the filling kind. So I took the easy way out and settled on cherries. Not what I wanted - but hey, cherries are good too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And the only reason why a person makes extra pie crust dough:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-nH-TmfzQI/AAAAAAAAAXA/Kum2hOuFeLU/s1600/Pie+Crusts.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 197px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-nH-TmfzQI/AAAAAAAAAXA/Kum2hOuFeLU/s200/Pie+Crusts.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470123095645736194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But enough of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2957335656262331262?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2957335656262331262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2957335656262331262&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2957335656262331262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2957335656262331262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-got-home-from-school-as-usual-hungry.html' title=''/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-nGWY-YMsI/AAAAAAAAAW4/bhZJ_B6YBU8/s72-c/Cherry+Pie.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-1596240906861717199</id><published>2010-05-10T07:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T07:30:02.531-05:00</updated><title type='text'>temporary</title><content type='html'>I have decided that the pink is too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in the middle of searching for a new template, so the current one is only temporary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I figure out how to work these html codes...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-1596240906861717199?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/1596240906861717199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=1596240906861717199&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1596240906861717199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1596240906861717199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/temporary.html' title='temporary'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-4502932689977835750</id><published>2010-05-09T16:54:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T17:09:43.138-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day pictures (which are not of mothers...)</title><content type='html'>I am going to cheat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first picture is from awhile ago. Sometime back in March.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-cv3Gl_mGI/AAAAAAAAAVw/EIj_RBDpk_8/s1600/IMG_0682.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 169px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-cv3Gl_mGI/AAAAAAAAAVw/EIj_RBDpk_8/s200/IMG_0682.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469392896174037090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Now that I have that over with...&lt;br /&gt;This one is from today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-cxIW1SuTI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/eUU7c3QjNGE/s1600/IMG_1106.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 173px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-cxIW1SuTI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/eUU7c3QjNGE/s200/IMG_1106.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469394292102576434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My grandma's mums:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-cxicMZGkI/AAAAAAAAAWg/rsWCf_zh-J4/s1600/IMG_1126.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 170px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-cxicMZGkI/AAAAAAAAAWg/rsWCf_zh-J4/s200/IMG_1126.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469394740218239554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And my mother's mums:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-cxsDVo66I/AAAAAAAAAWo/7q7ALiNSNnY/s1600/IMG_1127.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 173px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-cxsDVo66I/AAAAAAAAAWo/7q7ALiNSNnY/s200/IMG_1127.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469394905344830370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you momma, and happy mother's day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-4502932689977835750?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/4502932689977835750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=4502932689977835750&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4502932689977835750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/4502932689977835750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/mothers-day-pictures-which-are-not-of.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day pictures (which are not of mothers...)'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-cv3Gl_mGI/AAAAAAAAAVw/EIj_RBDpk_8/s72-c/IMG_0682.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3086391710192720239</id><published>2010-05-08T09:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T09:30:54.518-05:00</updated><title type='text'>when my heart stopped yesterday</title><content type='html'>Immediately after the last school bell rang, I left my class and headed up the stairs to the commons (cafeteria). There is always a meeting there after school on Fridays, and I was going. The meetings are strictly mandatory, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;extremely&lt;/span&gt; boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat on one of the far lunch tables, away from the bulk of eager overachievers, and waited for the meeting to be called to order. After a few less important announcements, the officer for "community service" came up to the podium.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She read off a list of opportunities for over the summer, and their dates and times; my head was slipping down into my cradled arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She read, "...and July 27th. It's a Tuesday and it starts at seven o'clock in the -." Until someone cut her off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a Sunday." One of the kids in the middle tables said loudly. (Let's call him Zach)  ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The officer looked questionably at the student who stopped her and quickly had another officer check a calender, which confirmed his correction. Then she went on with her list... the long list...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end (and five minutes later), she reiterated dates, and said, "Tuesday, July 27th, 7 o'clock -."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a Sunday, not a Tuesday!" Zach raised his voice again. I perked up a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The community service officer asked what I was thinking, "How did you know that?" She questioned, as a few of the students started giggling at Zach's preciseness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't hesitate. He didn't move his head. He didn't even miss a step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because I'm a spy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes grew huge. I sat up straight. I turned to get a good look at the student. I searched the laughing students in the cafeteria. I was the only one in two hundred people who knew what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But...maybe he didn't even know what he was talking about. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe he never heard of the name "Ally Carter". All I knew was, right then and there, he just crossed the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I searched him, waiting for him to give an explanation. None came. He sat in silence, no one believing what he just said. I didn't either, but I did thought that maybe a male specimen &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;could&lt;/span&gt; pick up the pretty cover, however unlikely that was. The officer continued on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, I need to change his name to Preston.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3086391710192720239?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3086391710192720239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3086391710192720239&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3086391710192720239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3086391710192720239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/immediately-after-last-school-bell-rang.html' title='when my heart stopped yesterday'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3337208481502693592</id><published>2010-05-06T22:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T22:47:21.162-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nevermind, I want fire.</title><content type='html'>The table was all set with a blue flower table cloth and candles of all sizes and colors. We had a casserole that had the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;perfect&lt;/span&gt; amount of cheese (a lot). :) All because my sister had come home today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, after we ate and cleaned up the kitchen, the candles were still on the counter, not lit. I took the lighter and lit the short white one. And I changed my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whe&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-ONNqoFSHI/AAAAAAAAAVY/iadOzZWXu00/s1600/fire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 158px; height: 119px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-ONNqoFSHI/AAAAAAAAAVY/iadOzZWXu00/s200/fire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468369638478137458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;n asked the question: 'What super power would you want?', I always said 'to be able to fly'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; be cool. To fly, that is. You could get places faster. Not to mention it would be like living in 4-D, because now you can go UP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I changed my mind. I want the power of fire.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3337208481502693592?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3337208481502693592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3337208481502693592&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3337208481502693592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3337208481502693592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/05/nevermind-i-want-fire.html' title='Nevermind, I want fire.'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S-ONNqoFSHI/AAAAAAAAAVY/iadOzZWXu00/s72-c/fire.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-8928536385842644999</id><published>2010-04-28T21:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T22:08:23.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Warriors in the Crossfire Tour</title><content type='html'>-by &lt;a href="http://www.nancyboflood.com/"&gt;Nancy Bo Flood&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay! Today I get to write to you about my thoughts on &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1590786610/allabowha-20"&gt;Warriors in the Crossfire&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was very surprised when I picked up the book because it wasn't about the American &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;or&lt;/span&gt; the Japanese side of World War II. It was about the tribe that &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9j3uE5GWmI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/1Wufbv6h9r4/s1600/Warriors+in+the+Crossfire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9j3uE5GWmI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/1Wufbv6h9r4/s200/Warriors+in+the+Crossfire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465390518773373538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;was caught in the middle. This tribe lives on a Japanese island, but are not considered Japanese, so they really have no place in the war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite character would have to be Taeyo. He is the main character's bouncy little nephew, and I found myself giggling multiple times when he was mentioned in the book. At one point, he throws coconuts down at his uncle while up in the palm tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved the author's writing technique as she used short sentences that we would not normally speak in. The language of the natives of the island is different then ours, and it is obvious that she took great care in trying to convey that. Although I did enjoy it, I thought that the end was brought about too quick, and the problem was solved rather rapidly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short &lt;a href="http://animoto.com/play/eT5szYoiwuuha1b2TP0O5g?utm_source=nancyboflood.com&amp;amp;utm_medium=player&amp;amp;utm_campaign=player"&gt;book trailer&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visit some other sites involved in this tour:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sally-apokedak.com/whispers_of_dawn/"&gt;Whispers of Dawn&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://cafeofdreams.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cafe of Dreams&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://thehungryreaders.com/"&gt;The Hungry Readers&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://molcotw.blogspot.com/"&gt;My Own Little Corner of the World&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://kidzbookbuzz.com/"&gt;KidzBookBuzz.com&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://superfastreader.com/"&gt;Reading is My Superpower&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.5minutesforbooks.com/"&gt;5 Minutes for Books&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://blbooks.blogspot.com/"&gt;Becky’s Book Reviews&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://firesidemusings.blogspot.com/"&gt;Fireside Musings&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/"&gt;My Utopia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-8928536385842644999?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/8928536385842644999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=8928536385842644999&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8928536385842644999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/8928536385842644999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/04/warriors-in-crossfire-tour_28.html' title='Warriors in the Crossfire Tour'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9j3uE5GWmI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/1Wufbv6h9r4/s72-c/Warriors+in+the+Crossfire.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2804761696224533010</id><published>2010-04-26T19:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T16:28:03.760-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Warriors in the Crossfire Tour</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;-by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.nancyboflood.com/"&gt;Nancy Bo Flood&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9X8ihIkhCI/AAAAAAAAAVI/dPtgCCU3IuM/s1600/Warriors+in+the+Crossfire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9X8ihIkhCI/AAAAAAAAAVI/dPtgCCU3IuM/s200/Warriors+in+the+Crossfire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464551392824034338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I am one of eight other bloggers to participate in the &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1590786610/allabowha-20"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Warriors in the C&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1590786610/allabowha-20"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rossfire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; tour. To see a book trailer, click &lt;a href="http://animoto.com/play/eT5szYoiwuuha1b2TP0O5g?utm_source=nancyboflood.com&amp;amp;utm_medium=player&amp;amp;utm_campaign=player"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. Later, I will post my thoughts on the book, and my thoughts on the interesting poems in the beginning of each chapter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But first, about the author. You may ask yourself how a novel in a different country goes about being made. Well, Nancy Bo Flood has lived in many regions, such as Malawi, Hawaii, and Japan. She did her research by actually fishing for turtles and getting surrounded by sharks, as it happens in the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To view other participants click on one of the links in the list below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sally-apokedak.com/whispers_of_dawn/"&gt;Whispers of Dawn&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://cafeofdreams.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cafe of Dreams&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://thehungryreaders.com/"&gt;The Hungry Readers&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://molcotw.blogspot.com/"&gt;My Own Little Corner of the World&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://kidzbookbuzz.com/"&gt;KidzBookBuzz.com&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://superfastreader.com/"&gt;Reading is My Superpower&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.5minutesforbooks.com/"&gt;5 Minutes for Books&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://blbooks.blogspot.com/"&gt;Becky’s Book Reviews&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://firesidemusings.blogspot.com/"&gt;Fireside Musings&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/"&gt;My Utopia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2804761696224533010?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2804761696224533010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2804761696224533010&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2804761696224533010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2804761696224533010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/04/warriors-in-crossfire-tour.html' title='Warriors in the Crossfire Tour'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9X8ihIkhCI/AAAAAAAAAVI/dPtgCCU3IuM/s72-c/Warriors+in+the+Crossfire.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-1076647198210317535</id><published>2010-04-25T21:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T19:14:13.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I might be going back home</title><content type='html'>Yes, I am home. That's not what I mean, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I am going &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;back&lt;/span&gt; home, then the question is, where was I before?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in my public school, sitting as I watched my intelligence (or what little I had of it) wither before my eyes as we sat for an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;entire&lt;/span&gt; class period (an hour and 27 minutes, actually). Doing nothing. Doing NOTHING. An hour and a half wasted playing SOLITAIRE. And on the computer, nonetheless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what was the cause of this? My teacher failed to print out the pages from our project packets and we had nothing to do. Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not the only reason. 'The only reason what', you ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not the only reason that I am considering going back home to be home schooled for my senior year of high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. Shocker, I know. But I had been mad at my school for awhile, and I realized about a month ago that I can actually do something about it! I can go back home and learn on my own. I was considering getting as much into my head as possible before I head off to college. And for those who don't know me (or never knew this about me), knowledge is big to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this quote on my wall and it says: "The only true wisdom is in knowing that you know nothing." And I was looking at it when I figured this out for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and I'm not saying that my school is bad. I guess public school just isn't right for me. The irony is terrific, but I made this up: school is holding me back from learning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, that, and with other reasons, I am just about to leave that life behind and go back home. That is, when my dad says I can, and we go visiting colleges and ask what they do with home schoolers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha. I hope they let me in. I can be quite intimidating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I was listening to &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jCSe66pWNmc&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=C9CD5EF8A3CB816E&amp;amp;playnext_from=PL&amp;amp;index=1"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; while writing this post, so I felt very...smart...writing it. Oh, and &lt;a href="http://rinielsmusings.wordpress.com/"&gt;Riniel&lt;/a&gt; got me into Yiruma, so that is how I found this song. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-1076647198210317535?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/1076647198210317535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=1076647198210317535&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1076647198210317535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/1076647198210317535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-might-be-going-back-home.html' title='I might be going back home'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-3801625846970074277</id><published>2010-04-22T19:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T19:35:16.465-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the dumbest mistake today</title><content type='html'>I forgot my stupid jacket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the stupid car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the stupid parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I sat for half an hour to watch a soccer game with a short-sleeved shirt and flipflops. And it was 50 degrees out. It may not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;seem&lt;/span&gt; horrible. But there was also a wind chill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept on saying to myself, "It's not that bad, just wait 20 more minutes." But it was a constant cold, and I just kept counting down until I could go back into my car (which was warm, by the way).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was when I realized that today was Earth day! So I tried to enjoy the *cough* sunshine, and the *cough* nice weather. But there was a beautiful purple tree right outside of the fence, and I was so mad that I didn't bring a camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I sat in the cold hunched over looking at the purple tree and enjoying *cough* the Spring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-3801625846970074277?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/3801625846970074277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=3801625846970074277&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3801625846970074277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/3801625846970074277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/04/dumbest-mistake-today.html' title='the dumbest mistake today'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-5156608827825768644</id><published>2010-04-20T23:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T07:58:47.434-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~The Catcher in the Rye~</title><content type='html'>-by J.D. Salinger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was doing research on articles for my English class last night and realized I never told you my opinion on the book. Well, it pretty much stunk for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S872eafx7mI/AAAAAAAAAUg/0krCZb0FkbU/s1600/The+Catcher+in+the+Rye.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S872eafx7mI/AAAAAAAAAUg/0krCZb0FkbU/s200/The+Catcher+in+the+Rye.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462574400416116322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am guessing the reason the book is talked about so much is because of all the symbolism that was put into it. I still don't understand half of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funniest part was, though, I had to find articles on the book. Like, reviews and such. But there was so much written about it, I couldn't find anything decent! So, I had to spend about half an hour just trying to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;find&lt;/span&gt; the articles...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I want to say is that you can read the book if you want, but it didn't do much for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's it. I don't want to get all mad at the book on here. I can do that in my research paper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-5156608827825768644?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/5156608827825768644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=5156608827825768644&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5156608827825768644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/5156608827825768644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/04/catcher-in-rye_20.html' title='~The Catcher in the Rye~'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S872eafx7mI/AAAAAAAAAUg/0krCZb0FkbU/s72-c/The+Catcher+in+the+Rye.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-6202036088089549688</id><published>2010-04-18T17:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T17:27:37.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>three strikes and you're all out</title><content type='html'>Spring doesn't come with the 81 degrees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring doesn't come with the green leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring doesn't come with the red tulips and yellow dandelions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring doesn't come when you roll down your windows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring doesn't come when you turn your music up a bit more than you know you should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring doesn't come when you sing a bit louder than you should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring doesn't come with the soft grass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Spring doesn't come with the calender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring comes when you are sitting peacefully in your room with the windows cracked. Sitting in your desk reading homework. Sitting in your desk breathing fresh air. Sitting in your desk thinking that "Life is Good."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring comes with the wasps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-6202036088089549688?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/6202036088089549688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=6202036088089549688&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6202036088089549688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/6202036088089549688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/04/three-strikes-and-youre-all-out.html' title='three strikes and you&apos;re all out'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1617220155334798537.post-2606893393847705169</id><published>2010-04-14T16:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T16:28:10.775-05:00</updated><title type='text'>State of the To Be Read pile.</title><content type='html'>I just realized that I have a TBR list on the left hand side of my blog. Funny, for some reason, when I changed the blog, I thought for sure I had gotten rid of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my apologies for any of you who were expecting to hear my opinion on the books that were listed. I either have to update it, or I could get rid of it. Which would you prefer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently got back onto my goodreads account from half a year ago, and that TBR list IS accurate. Some 50 books accurate, that is...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1617220155334798537-2606893393847705169?l=myutopia36.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/feeds/2606893393847705169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1617220155334798537&amp;postID=2606893393847705169&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2606893393847705169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1617220155334798537/posts/default/2606893393847705169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myutopia36.blogspot.com/2010/04/state-of-to-be-read-pile.html' title='State of the To Be Read pile.'/><author><name>Maggie DeVries</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05249723813568885057</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QynJ6jbwcn4/S9TU6UKV9-I/AAAAAAAAAUo/gCCesAHC5j8/S220/Proflie+Pic.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
