<?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-5539447675201564296</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:58:39.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life of an English Major</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-861329604745792740</id><published>2008-11-12T20:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T22:20:24.491-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss him so much...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i434.photobucket.com/albums/qq68/AminatorDucky/miss1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 109px; height: 118px;" src="http://i434.photobucket.com/albums/qq68/AminatorDucky/miss1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          I know I'm not supposed to want him, but I do. I know I'm not supposed to need him, but I do. I know I'm not supposed to miss him, but I do. I know I'm not supposed to ache to be in his arms, but I do. I know I'm not supposed to love him, but I do. Everything I feel goes against everything I've always been told, but I don't care. You don't choose who you fall in love with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Sitting here, looking at his pictures, seeing his smile, his aloof, "screw you" facade, disguising his beauty within. Few people see that man. I'm so blessed to know and love him. Man. For the first time, I can say I'm in love with a man. He's not a boy without any ambition or purpose. He may not have everything all together like he'd like, but he's on his way to great things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   God, I love him so much. I've never felt so...comfortable with anyone else. I know I'm not a beauty queen, or Ms. Popularity. I'm goofy, awkward, and a huge nerd. I feel more at home with a pile of books, a pencil and notebook to write in than with real people. Yet, in all my eccentricities, he sees something more in me, just as I see more in him. We see what we really are, and we love each other for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      No matter how hard my day has been, when I can talk to him, I can't help but leaving with a smile. No matter how upset I am about anything, he knows how to take me out of the situation, and make me feel at ease just from a simple conversation. Nothing extravagant, no declarations or reassurances, (though he's adapt at that well enough) he just talks to me. He listens, and takes my mind away from my problem. And no matter how frustrated or scared I was before, he puts a smile on my face, and reassurance in my heart. He's my soft place to land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Looking at pictures of him, I'd give anything to be in some of them. To be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;there&lt;/span&gt;, laughing with him, fighting with him, loving with him. We've known each other for so long, he's so familiar to me now. He's my sounding board. I read a new book, and automatically think "He'll love this." I find a new band and know that it's just his style, or that he'll hate it and I have to tell him about it anyway, just to tease him. I love to tease him. I love to know what the little things to say to put a smile on his beautiful face, and hope maybe I've brightened his day just a little bit. I feel safe with him, always have. We could talk for hours, and still not be finished. Our conversations brought us close, made us best friends, and somewhere along the way, I fell in love with my best friend. I always thought that was a corny phrase, but seeing it for myself, it's perfect. I trust him, would trust him with my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     All I want now is the chance to be with him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-861329604745792740?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/861329604745792740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=861329604745792740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/861329604745792740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/861329604745792740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/11/comfortable.html' title='I miss him so much...'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-6171784696523810038</id><published>2008-09-08T11:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T12:03:09.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Famine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SMVw9nLdWXI/AAAAAAAAABU/PVSRlbAAUdg/s1600-h/dry+and+thirsty.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243721544934185330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SMVw9nLdWXI/AAAAAAAAABU/PVSRlbAAUdg/s200/dry+and+thirsty.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#999999;"&gt;Bro Martin preached about famine's last night. Famines in our lives, and how we get through them. Of course, he said that it's most important not to turn from God in your famines. He also said, don't let them destroy you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;Destruction. That's certainly something my family would know a lot about right now. I don't think I can bare looking into my father's eyes again and seeing the pain, defeat, and anger there. It's as if the whole ordeal has sucked the life force, the very thing that made him my father...is gone. And that breaks my heart. I seldom see that old, happy smile he wore, or that light, that mischevious glint dancing in his eyes anymore. It's just a dull ache there. Seeing my family fall to pieces around me is the most gut wrenching feeling I've ever had. I've always believed that God has a plan that he "knows the way that I take," but right now I can't seem to find that thread of hope anymore. God promised us that he wouldn't put more on us than we can bare, but how are we supposed to bare this? How am I supposed to get up and watch the life slip further and further from his eyes? How am I supposed to go to church and pretend everything is fine, and that we're making it, when we're not? We're dying! My soul feels just like that picture right now: Dry and thirsty, begging and pleading for a little relief from this famine that has so completely enveloped us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;I've always felt that the symoblism for rain got a bad rap. Rain was always tied to gloom, sorrow, and trials. But, in reality, rain is healing. Rain is what heals the broken lands, it's a life force that rejuvenates all those that are in need. And we haven't had much of it lately. Ironically, this has been the wettest summer we've had in decades. Contrary to that, this has been the dryest summer of my life, spiritually. No matter where I try to turn, I can't seem to find relief. The tears that course down my face just feel like a mockery of what I can't seem to find. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;With all my heart, I wish I had a message of hope, but that's one thing I can't seem to find right now. Hope. It feels like a far away dream that was long ago lost. I want, more than anything, to look up at the sky and see those billowing rain clouds roll my way, showering my in a stream of hope and healing. My favorite story in the Bible is the story of Elijah when he built the altar to God, after the prophets of Baal built their altar, and God sent fire down to burn the sacrifice. Then, after three years of famine, God tells him it's going to rain, so Elijah sits down and begins to pray, sending his servant every so often to check for rainclouds. After about the seventh time, he comes back, saying that he saw a cloud "like as a man's hand," and Elijah told him to go tell the king to get ready, because it was going to rain. God, I pray you will bring that rain to me once again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;The last thing Bro Martin said last night was that the famine never lasts forever. God....I claim that promise...in Jesus' name, I claim that promise. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-6171784696523810038?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/6171784696523810038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=6171784696523810038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/6171784696523810038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/6171784696523810038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/09/famine.html' title='Famine'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SMVw9nLdWXI/AAAAAAAAABU/PVSRlbAAUdg/s72-c/dry+and+thirsty.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-7715505749159810625</id><published>2008-08-25T19:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T20:21:07.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Masks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i197.photobucket.com/albums/aa232/Luthana/Photography%20and%20Other%20Artwork/masque.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://i197.photobucket.com/albums/aa232/Luthana/Photography%20and%20Other%20Artwork/masque.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;      This semester I'm taking a Shakespeare class all about his tragedies. It's rather ironic that it takes a tragedy for the mask to be torn away from right before my very eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    My best (guy) friend just lost his fiance' this weekend, and is a wreck. I'm just heartbroken for him, because they've been together for over a year, and they were so excited about getting married. He talked to me last night (after his sobbing had subsided), about how, in retrospect, he could see that God was taking care of him. Miraculously, he wasn't as devastated as he thought he would be. He was sure he would be incapacitated with grief at losing her, but in reality, he had the first good night's sleep he'd had in a long time. It's a wonder how God can take a terrible situation and bring a little light and comfort into it. As heartbroken as he is, he knows he's going to get through this. For the first time, almost since he's started dating this girl (which was part of the problem), he's finally turning to God and seeking him out. I couldn't be more proud of him. He's made plenty of mistakes, but he's also come a long way, and grown up so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I can't help but laugh at myself because in the course of trying to comfort and advise him, I'm telling him all the things I should be telling myself. "Put God first and he'll take care of you." "Turn to God, pray, he's ready to take care of you." All the things I should be doing myself. I don't have any problem praying for others. That comes so naturally, but when it comes to praying for myself, it's like I get this lump in my throat and I can't get the words out. As if I feel like God wouldn't want to hear what my own requests, my own needs, or desires. When in reality, he already knows them, even before I even know them. He's just waiting for me to push past my stubborn pride and just talk to him about all of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    You know, everyone always says to treat God like a best friend. Now that I think about it, I don't like talking to my closest friends about my problems. I love helping them with theres, I thrive on it. But when it comes to me, I hate, abhor opening up like that. I used to think it was everyone else. No one would stop to realize that I was hurting or needed encouragement for a change. But in reality, I'm the one at fault. I do everything I can to hide my problems with an easy smile and a word of encouragement to others. I'm so quick to be a source of strength for everyone else, no one can see past that to see my own trials. Because I won't let them. Even when everyone knows that something is going on with me or my family, I just cover it all up with a nice little smile, and I can just imagine everyone thinking, "Wow, nothing gets to that girl."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    But what scares me the most is that I don't know how to change. I don't know how to be more transparent. Which is rather laughable, because I used to think I wore my emotions on my sleeves. And when I want to, I do. But that's are the surface emotions. I honestly don't know many people that really know the real me.  The me that gets more excited about a great book than anything else in the world, that thrives on writing, that absolutely comes alive in it. The me that can't wait to hop on the next plane to God knows where and just see the world. The woman who has found herself heartbroken more times than she'd care to admit, or who would rather spend an evening curled up on a couch with the person she cares about just enjoying being there with him. There are so many little things about me that no one really knows. Because I just don't let them know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Is that the way I am with God? He knows all these things about me, but do I treat him like I do my friends? Do I hide myself from him, and try not to acknowledge my hurts, my joys, or myself? Obviously, it's not possible to do that, but am I trying to at least? I retreat into myself, brooding over whatever it is that's happening in my life. but what does that make me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    To be honest, this isn't something I'd considered before. I never saw myself as someone who hid from God, at least not in this sense. I'm starting to see things about myself that I haven't realized until now. I suppose that's the beautiful thing about writing things down.  You discover something new all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-7715505749159810625?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/7715505749159810625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=7715505749159810625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/7715505749159810625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/7715505749159810625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/08/greetings-and-good-evening.html' title='Masks'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i197.photobucket.com/albums/aa232/Luthana/Photography%20and%20Other%20Artwork/th_masque.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-7763387634590881193</id><published>2008-08-14T23:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T23:19:10.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Word Vomit</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#00cccc;"&gt;I'm twenty-one years old. I'm an English Major. I'm an Apostolic Christian. I'm a woman. What more is that to say about me? So much. What am I willing to share? That's debatable. I share more in these blogs than I do in my whole life. I'm an expert at putting on a demure face and fooling the world into believing that there's not a lot going on up here other than what meets the eye. But in reality, there's this whole other side that no one knows about, no one sees. My mind goes nonstop about anything and everything. Something is always running through my thoughts, there's always something new to analyze, some new problem to disect. I'm not perfect, but to be completely honest, I love the fact that my mind is constantly working. I feel alive, sharp and worth something in that sense. I'm not just a "dumb blonde" that doesn't have anything going on under the hood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, I'm not even sure where all this word vomit came from but I wanted to write someting tonight, and this was the result. Beautiful, I know. I'm sure I'll win a Pulitzer. Goodnight everyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-7763387634590881193?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/7763387634590881193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=7763387634590881193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/7763387634590881193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/7763387634590881193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-twenty-one-years-old.html' title='Word Vomit'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-5463338931765479565</id><published>2008-08-12T15:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T15:58:47.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Full Circle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://gi254.photobucket.com/groups/hh97/1XW671FEES/sunrise.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://gi254.photobucket.com/groups/hh97/1XW671FEES/sunrise.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;    &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Well, it looks like I'm back where I started. Classes start in a week, and I'll be going back to campus. Looking back on the past year, it's incredible to see how far I've come, and how far I have to go. Sometimes I wonder if I've made any progress at all. Then I look behind me, and I realize that I've come farther in the past year, in so many ways, than I've ever come in all my life. I barely even resemble the naive girl that stepped onto the NSU campus last year. I don't even know her anymore, and part of me thinks that's a good thing, and another part finds it to be a terrifying realization. I'm in a time of my life where change is a good thing. Growth and evolution is formidable to who I will become. If I can't adapt to my environment, I'll never truly be the person I have the potential to become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   And yet...I see how much I haven't changed. I still have those same weaknesses, those same stumbling blocks, all the same vices. I wonder when I'll sincerely be able to say that I've overcome those things that cause me to falter. I want so desperately to become something more than I am, but I fear I'll never have the strength to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   And then there's him. After my last fiasco, I didn't think I'd ever even consider dating again. Well, I'm not considering it now. He's such a wonderful person, and such a good friend. And it's strange, because he was always there, sort of in the shadows. I never considered him as anything more than a casual acquaintance, but in the past couple weeks, he's become a lot more. I look forward to hearing his voice, and hate to hear him say he has to go. I feel exhilarated when I'm with him, like it's the most comfortable, natural thing. I don't know how this will develop, or if it even will, but I can afford to be patient enough to give it and him the time needed to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   In all, this has been a very difficult year, but more than that, a year that I have learned so much in, and after it's all been said and done, I wouldn't want to trade what I've learned for anything. Life, in all it's heartache and frustrations, is truly good at the core.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-5463338931765479565?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/5463338931765479565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=5463338931765479565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/5463338931765479565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/5463338931765479565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/08/full-circle.html' title='Full Circle'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-6298096101124297076</id><published>2008-06-28T18:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T19:22:10.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Precipice</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.southdevonaonb.org.uk/uploads/A%20cliff%20view%20%28200x200%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.southdevonaonb.org.uk/uploads/A%20cliff%20view%20%28200x200%29.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;So coming up for air after spending so long drowning in sorrow, I realize that there is so much more to it than that. I may not be wallowing in self-pity anymore, I'm also fighting to regain some semblance of the person I once knew.  The only real emotion I seem to be able to hold onto is apathy. I feel so...numb to everything. Even the simple act of listening to old songs that used to speak to me...does nothing. The only ones that really have any affect are the ones that express the emptiness that's been carved out in my own lift. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;I'm not sure where this road is taking me, but I'm so sick of this seclusion. I'm ready to break out, blaze new trails of my own, apart from the condescension  I feel all around me. I am dying to break down this block that I can't seem to get beyond. I'm ready to leave the familiar behind, and run head-long into the unknown. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Sadly, that all sounds wonderful in my head, but it certainly doesn't add up to anything in reality. Why is it that 99% of people have all their hopes and dreams, but never actually go after them. Jimmy over there has a dream to be a concert pianist, but he's working in an elbow-to-elbow cubicle from 9-5, miserable ever flipping second of it. Is that going to be me, 5, 10 years from now? Will I head for my dreams, only to watch them be hurled off a cliff onto the precipice of reality below? I don't want that to be my story. I want to have a real, full, exciting story that I can look back on and say, "I did it. I did what I wanted to. I lived my dream, and I never regretted a minute of it." I want that so badly I ache inside. What if it doesn't happen though? What if, 20, 30 years from now, I wake up with five kids, and a pot-bellied husband who I haven't had sex with in nearly a year? God help, don't let that be my future. I may go to sleep and never wake up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;All I know is that I can't let my life be driven by fear, uncertainty of the unknown, or an innate desire to please everyone but myself. I HAVE to live my life for myself, do what I see to be best for ME (because we really are the only ones that truly know ourselves, right?), and not continue to ask myself what so-and-so thinks I should do. Or be too afraid to take that dive off the cliff into the cool waves of triumph below. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;I want to take that dive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-6298096101124297076?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/6298096101124297076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=6298096101124297076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/6298096101124297076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/6298096101124297076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/06/so-coming-up-for-air-after-spending-so.html' title='The Precipice'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-7688368686193211807</id><published>2008-06-15T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T16:03:26.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Horizons</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i63.photobucket.com/albums/h154/luvbeex/2isgitl.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i63.photobucket.com/albums/h154/luvbeex/2isgitl.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;    For so long, I've allowed myself to sink into the dark abyss that is my heartache. I didn't share my pain with others, they wouldn't know how to deal with me. I bore my misery quietly, allowing myself to become lost inside myself. I couldn't bear the thought of the one I loved so deeply to truly be gone. I tried to fix things - I'm a fixer, if I see any possibility of a resolution, I'll go for it - but it was almost as if all my efforts were just being tossed carelessly back at me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;    Silence. That's all I had. An unbearably resounding silence that seemed to stretch out endlessly before me. I wondered if it would ever end. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;My life seemed to be unraveling at the seams, and I didn't know how to catching everything fast enough, no way to hold it all together anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);font-family:Times New Roman;" &gt;    So, I did the only thing I knew to do. I retreated into myself. I shut down, emotionally, physically, everything. Oh, to the untrained eye, everything seemed to have changed little. I still smiled and laughed in the right places, I even made the occasion jab at a dear friend. But, it was all merely a facade, a wall to keep out all the unanswerable questions that would surely arise. After all, what would be my answer? How could I explain my heartache, the feeling that something had died inside me? I couldn't, and I wouldn't. No one would be able to comprehend it inevitably, so it would have been useless. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);font-family:Times New Roman;" &gt;    Finally - finally - I'm beginning to resurface. It's taken so long. I never thought I'd come back. The numbness I felt inside extended further than I ever though possible. I've always seen myself as sort of a bleeding heart. I care too deeply, and ache too keenly. But lately...it's as if I had died inside. And maybe for a time I did. Maybe a part of me did die. The remnants of my childish dreams and ideas about the how the world should be. How love should be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);font-family:Times New Roman;" &gt;    All my preconceived notions are gone, and I'm left with something else. Something I haven't quite figured out yet. I'm changing, turning into someone I don't quite know yet. But I've learned one thing, and that is to trust myself. To rely on myself. I don't have to be the damsel or the one who needs saving. And I don't have to try and be someones saving grace. I need to be my own. I need to stand alone. I need to be strong for me, not for someone else. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;    I'm so tired of trying to be this for this person, this for that person. I'm just ready to be myself for myself. I don't want to please anyone but myself anymore. I have ideas, opinions, and feelings that don't add up to others' and &lt;/em&gt;finally&lt;em&gt; that's OK with me. If I don't please others with who I am, then maybe they aren't worth pleasing. I'm doing the best with what I've been dealt. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);font-family:Times New Roman;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;    And as for my own "luckless romance..." I wish him all the happiness this world, and the next, can offer. I don't begrudge him anything. His goodness, kindness, and friendship, even for the short time I was able to bask in it, was all well worth the loss of it in the aftermath. I'll always hold a place in my heart for him, and I'll always miss my dear friend. I hope he finds what he's searching. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);font-family:Times New Roman;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);font-family:Times New Roman;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;"Goodbye, my almost lover, my hopeless dream. Shoulda known you'd bring me heartache. Almost lovers always do..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&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/5539447675201564296-7688368686193211807?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/7688368686193211807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=7688368686193211807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/7688368686193211807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/7688368686193211807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/06/for-so-long-ive-allowed-myself-to-sink.html' title='New Horizons'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-3156493968382571565</id><published>2008-05-01T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T20:46:39.368-07:00</updated><title type='text'>'Til Death</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Something Bro Martin spoke on the other night has really stuck with me. What would we be willing to do for the sake of what we believe in? I am deeply devout to my God. I wouldn't be here without him, I've no doubt, so my faith is incredibly strong. But...what would happen if it became dangerous to believe in God? I know that sounds bizarre, it's acceptable, almost expected to believe in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;something. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But...what would happen if that changed? What would happen if sticking by one's beliefs meant discrimination, exclusion, or even persecution? The Bible talks about persecution for his name's sake in the last days. Eventually, it's not going to be popular to definitively believe in anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What then? Will I have the courage to take the stand for my beliefs? For my God? I believe I do. But then, I've never stared down the barrel of a gun while someone asked me if I believed in God. Or faced torture or persecution as the early church did. As of now, I don't think I could be persuaded to turn away from God. He didn't turn away from me when I was at my weakest, why should I turn away from him when things are at their worst? I'll never do enough to repay him for all he's done for me. Thus, yes. I can definitely say that I'll stare down anything and everything that will try to get me to renounce my God. And I'll win. How will I win? Because in the end, they can tear my body to shreds, but they can't touch my spirit, or my soul. That I've already given to God, whole-heartedly. I'm his&lt;br /&gt;completely, and there's no changing that. One day I'll stand before God, maybe a little worn and tattered by life, but my spirit will soar. I hope your's will do the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-3156493968382571565?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/3156493968382571565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=3156493968382571565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/3156493968382571565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/3156493968382571565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/05/til-death.html' title='&apos;Til Death'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-6835821375638096684</id><published>2008-04-06T20:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T21:10:38.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;The windows are open. The cool evening breeze floats through my room. Crickets sing their quiet, lazy melody, slowly lulling their listeners into a peaceful slumber. The occasional passing of cars, revving of motors, or old tires bumbling over the old brick paved streets in front of my house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Where has my muse gone? Where has my inspiration gone? What was my muse? Where have I gone? Life has become so distorted of late, I'm not sure what to think of anything anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt; What truly is right, or wrong? Have I changed too much lately? Am I different from the girl that used to believe in people, in the goodness of others? Yes, I'd have to say I have. I'm not the young, naive girl I once was. I'm not innocent as I was, even just a year ago. Life changes, and we get older, wiser. I don't regret what I've come to learn, how I've come to see the world around me. Why is it that no one else can accept me for the person I am becoming? What's so wrong with this new woman being formed? Is it so wrong to want to experience some things myself, rather than hear about it second hand? When will I get the chance to break free of this mold that others have placed me in? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I don't want to be limited to a cookie-cutter Christian life. I love God above all else, but I want to find my own way to him, make my own mistakes, take my own chances. I don't want to simply slip into a mold of an idea someone else has set up for what my own life should be like. I'm not perfect, and I won't pretend to be, tired of trying to be. I make mistakes, and I'll continue doing so. The beauty of it all is that God loves me despite of that, and I don't have to follow someone else's design for my life, I can follow his. HE knows the desires of my heart, and he wants to fulfill them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;When will I get to live MY life, instead of living it for others? When will you see me, for ME, and love me, for ME, and not for who you think I ought to be? I'm not perfect, but then God doesn't expect me to be. So why should you? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-6835821375638096684?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/6835821375638096684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=6835821375638096684' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/6835821375638096684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/6835821375638096684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/04/random-thoughts.html' title='Random thoughts'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-7620780175496657372</id><published>2008-03-31T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T11:09:50.499-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain rain rain</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I know this sounds odd, but I love the rain! It's just pouring outside right now, and I'm just itching to be at home, curled up on the swing on my back porch, just writing away in my notebook. I get the best inspiration on rainy days like this.  When I finally get a place of my own, as long as I have a covered back porch with a porch swing, I'll be happy. I'm just ready to curl up with a good book!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about you? What's your favorite kind of weather?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-7620780175496657372?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/7620780175496657372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=7620780175496657372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/7620780175496657372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/7620780175496657372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/03/rain-rain-rain.html' title='Rain rain rain'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-8178223686341938113</id><published>2008-03-30T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T20:56:51.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Letter - Nick Cave</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="373" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-jearZDuQsg&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6&amp;amp;border=1&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-jearZDuQsg&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6&amp;amp;border=1&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="373" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;God, I love this song....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-8178223686341938113?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/8178223686341938113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=8178223686341938113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/8178223686341938113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/8178223686341938113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/03/god-i-love-this-song.html' title='Love Letter - Nick Cave'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-8842832897568128392</id><published>2008-03-30T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T20:50:06.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life, Love, and All the Rest...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/R_BcUOg-CRI/AAAAAAAAAA0/ExTeVC0r7jc/s1600-h/holding+hands.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/R_BcUOg-CRI/AAAAAAAAAA0/ExTeVC0r7jc/s320/holding+hands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183744673666959634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I'm sitting here in my bed, thinking. Thinking about love. About life in general. I'm only 21, and to me, that seems so young by comparison. I have my whole life ahead of me! A life that I can accomplish all my dreams, travel the world, find an enduring love that will last a lifetime. I spent the day with my best friend today, and she told me something. She said that after a year of marriage to her husband, she's finally starting to really fall in love with her husband. He had to be away this weekend, so she stayed with her mom, and she said for the first time, she really missed him while he was gone. I've heard from so many of my married friends tell me that love isn't those feelings you get when you know you're going to get to see them, or when they say they love you, and that fluttery feeling you get. It's simply wanting to be with them. It's when they make you so angry, you just want to hit them, and yet, you still want to be near them. It's being friends and knowing what the other one is thinking and feeling, and understand them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I just want the chance to feel that way myself. I feel like I've found that person I can fall that deeply in love with, I just want the chance to find out. It started out so simply. We were such good friends. Somewhere in the middle of our long conversations, and laughing at each other's stupid jokes, and pouring our hearts out, telling each other our secrets, hopes, fears, heartaches, and so much more...we fell in love. I've found that there are two different kind of loves. There's the giddy, happy love. The "feel good" love. And then there's the love that stays, even when the feelings are gone. When you're angry at each other, and you'd give anything to slap them silly, and deep down, you know you still love that person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll go for days thinking, "I'm not going to do this, I can't put myself through this again...," and then I'll find myself thinking about him, wondering how his day is going, if he's having a good day, hoping he's not having another fight with his parents, or not too stressed about trying to move out, or if he's being safe when he spends time with his friends. And if he's thought of me that day. If I'll hear from him soon, wishing I could read him better. Heh. He's the first person I couldn't read like a book, and it drives me crazy. And intrigues me. If I haven't heard from him in a couple days, I miss him. I'll wake up in the middle of the night, wishing so badly he were there next to me, feeling so alone because he's NOT there, I just want to cry at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I'm normally a very rational, logical person. I'm the one my friends come to for advice with their own relationships. I'm normally cool, calm, and collected, and I don't let my heart get the best of me. That's not the case now. He has my heart in a very precarious situation, and I often fear that I'm not going to be enough, and he'll leave me in pieces. Then I remember this whole other element of our relationship I've never had before: Friendship. I can really say he's counted as one of my dearest friends, and I cherish that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know where this will end up, but I pray that we both have the courage to give it a chance to see where this can take us. I truly think this is the real thing, and that kind of love doesn't come around all that often, and I don't want to chance missing out. I hope he feels the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-8842832897568128392?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/8842832897568128392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=8842832897568128392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/8842832897568128392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/8842832897568128392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/03/life-love-and-all-rest.html' title='Life, Love, and All the Rest...'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/R_BcUOg-CRI/AAAAAAAAAA0/ExTeVC0r7jc/s72-c/holding+hands.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-3815435395565764100</id><published>2008-03-27T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T12:13:42.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What truly is a life?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/R-vqZug-CQI/AAAAAAAAAAs/75YbhS9IdPA/s1600-h/unwanted+pregnancy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182493523923831042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/R-vqZug-CQI/AAAAAAAAAAs/75YbhS9IdPA/s320/unwanted+pregnancy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ffccff;"&gt;Abortion. Have you ever thought of it? I was discussing this subject with some friends earlier today, and it really got me thinking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;   One point I brought up is the option of adoption upon the birth of the child. How would this not be the most logical solution? We all have to remember that when we choose to have sex, we must accept responsibility for those actions. And that could mean the possiblity of an unplanned pregnancy. Once that occurs, your life is no longer about yourself, you have another life that depends on you to make the right decision. And you can't simply think about what you want or what's right for you, you have to consider what is right and best for that child. This is where I simply cannot condone abortion. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;   However, I don't feel that abortion should be illegal. Because then you have young teenagers who are scared and don't want to have a child, and insist on an abortion. They'll either 1. go to a blackmarket clinic (which would end up being in the back of some sleezy alley or something and the person would know little to nothing about medical procedure and take the risk of killing the girl and her baby), and she would be charged upwards of $1000 of dollars. OR 2. she would attempt to abort the child herself, and kill herslef in the process. Either way, restricted birth control laws are much more ideal than abolishing it altogether.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;What are your thoughts on this topic?? Anyone??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&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/5539447675201564296-3815435395565764100?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/3815435395565764100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=3815435395565764100' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/3815435395565764100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/3815435395565764100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/03/what-truly-is-life.html' title='What truly is a life?'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/R-vqZug-CQI/AAAAAAAAAAs/75YbhS9IdPA/s72-c/unwanted+pregnancy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-3634291255920447659</id><published>2008-03-26T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T10:57:33.322-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GOD is my everything</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="373"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/U_M33GcJAmU&amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;color2=0xe87a9f&amp;border=1&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/U_M33GcJAmU&amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;color2=0xe87a9f&amp;border=1&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="373"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This drama absolutely describes how far I've come in my life. God awakened me, spiritually, and gave me new life. And in the course of my life, I've done and experienced things that I have taken me away from him. However, he's always been there waiting for me, and when I would get in too deep, he'd be there to chase away anything that would harm me. He's been my father, my best friend, my companion, lover of my soul, my EVERYTHING.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-3634291255920447659?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/3634291255920447659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=3634291255920447659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/3634291255920447659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/3634291255920447659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/03/god-is-my-everything.html' title='GOD is my everything'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-2088656693945003960</id><published>2008-03-26T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T10:18:38.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BOOKS!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ffccff;"&gt;Ok, so my utmost passion in life (other than writing of course!)  is reading. You can't beat a rainy day with nothing to do, and a good book. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ffccff;"&gt;Right now I'm working on the Discworld book, The Color of Magic. It's so funny! The best discription I've heard of Twoflower is a little Japanese tourist. And it's so true! He doesn't really get anything, and he thinks everything is purely for his entertainment. And the way Rincewind gets so frustrated with him is great. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ffccff;"&gt;Has anyone else ever read it? What about the other books?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ffccff;"&gt;Also, as I'm an English major, I'm really getting into the classics, and I've recently purchased Paradise Lost. I've read a bit of it and really enjoyed it. The way Satan is portrayed really caught my attention.  Can't wait to delve into it! I also have Dante's Divine Comedy I've yet to get all the way thru. One of these days! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ffccff;"&gt;What are your favorite books? Any insight into these? Any suggestions for my next read? Feedback, please!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-2088656693945003960?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/2088656693945003960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=2088656693945003960' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/2088656693945003960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/2088656693945003960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/03/books.html' title='BOOKS!'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-2410733115265291461</id><published>2008-03-26T09:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T09:54:43.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So...March is almost over. It's been a pretty crazy year thus far. I ended up not taking classes this semester, so now I'm just working full time. At a job that is driving me nuts! I work with great people for the most part...except for one woman who doesn't seem to want to do anything. And guess who gets the slack? Your's truly. Lovely. Compound that with gas prices going up...I'm getting ready to quit. *sigh* On the job hunt again.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Easter was...disappointing. We didn't have a family dinner like we normally do, because our family is pretty much split down the middle, because my cousin is addicted to drugs, his wife is also a druggie, and they have a little girl who is stuck in the middle of it. It's tearing our family apart, because no one wants to talk to anyone right now. So, my parents, my aunt and uncle, and my other cousin all went to a Mexican restaurant and that was our Easter dinner. How quaint. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;However, I'm trying my hardest to be positive. I have a great family, and I know we'll get out of this funk. It'll work itself out eventually. The great thing about family is, no matter where you go, what you do, you always have them there for you. Time, space, and actions don't change the fact that they are your family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;College...I am only taking two classes this summer, and they're both online. That will be nice enough. At least I can get a job and work full time and make more money. I talked to my advisor yesterday evening and I'm planning on getting ahold of another local college that does study abroad programs (as mine does not) and look into it. I'd love to take a semester in England. I think some time away would do me good. It would definitely broaden my perspective of things I think. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;MEH, anyway, not much to say here, and honestly don't see how anyone could bother to read this. Have to get some of my writing up here soon. I'd like to start on my book soon. I want to write about a girl who was adopted (like me!) and goes in search of her roots. As I don't know when I'll ever get to do so myself, or if I'll even have the nerve to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Anyway, I hope no one is too terribly bored, I'll try to post some of my freewriting on my stories up here and such. BLAH BLAH BLAH. :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-2410733115265291461?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/2410733115265291461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=2410733115265291461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/2410733115265291461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/2410733115265291461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/03/march.html' title='March!'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-8338822524039476581</id><published>2008-01-25T11:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T11:28:18.052-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Thus Far</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Well, it's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;January 25, 2008, and I wonder where life has gone. My worl has seemed to turned inside-out, upside down, then come back around again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So much has happened in the past few months. My family has been through so many valleys, just in recent months. I wonder when things will get back to normal again. They say as you get older, life gets more complicated, and "they" weren't kidding. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;What do you do when you have to make a choice between those you love, and what you think is right? What do you do when you feel like you've finally come to the point where you regret your choices? How do you move on from that? Do you ever get over it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;And what about making the choice between a loved one, and what's expected? How do you stand up, finally, and say NO. To overcome the expectations, and live your own life for once? How do you break that mold, that hold on your life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I guess I'm full of questions today. My life has been one big question lately, and I wonder when I'll be able to find the answers. Or if I will. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Anyway, just an update on the life of me: QUESTIONS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-8338822524039476581?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/8338822524039476581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=8338822524039476581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/8338822524039476581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/8338822524039476581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2008/01/life-thus-far.html' title='Life Thus Far'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5539447675201564296.post-1527452022837152805</id><published>2007-08-12T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T20:36:25.482-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grammar and Shakespeare</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So I'm an English major, and on Tuesday, August 14, 2007 I start my first day as a full-fledged English major. It's taken a lot of drudgery and frustration to get to this point. I've taken Math and Sciences that I couldn't have care any less about if I tried. Now, I'll be taking Shakespeare, Creative Writing, Grammar and Usage, and English Lit, all the classes I've dreamed of taking since stepping onto my first college campus for the first time.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I will finally get to be apart of classes of people who love what is being taught as much as I do. And sit under instructors who love (and are knowledgeable of) literature as deeply as I do. I know it isn't normal to be *excited* about starting classes, but I have to say I am ecstatic. I'm ready to start this chapter of my life (oh the irony) and see what God has in store for me now! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5539447675201564296-1527452022837152805?l=tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/feeds/1527452022837152805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5539447675201564296&amp;postID=1527452022837152805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/1527452022837152805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5539447675201564296/posts/default/1527452022837152805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tina-bo-bina.blogspot.com/2007/08/grammar-and-shakespeare.html' title='Grammar and Shakespeare'/><author><name>Tina bo bina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15816999747952340094</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vu0BQ1LjwuI/SHVHdD8FsqI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZcVest_Y2OI/S220/mom+3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
