<?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-14413585</id><updated>2012-01-18T19:47:19.255-06:00</updated><category term='The CSI Reports'/><category term='Celebrity'/><category term='In Honor of Valentines Day'/><category term='The Plural Thing...'/><category term='The &quot;Lists&quot;'/><category term='Get Ready Get Set Live'/><category term='My Prayers'/><title type='text'>A Super-Woman's Diary</title><subtitle type='html'>Tales of: Jesus, Love, Knowledge, Music, Pizza, Starbucks and my iPhone; yep,that's all I need.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>321</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-295299293908401643</id><published>2012-01-03T00:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T00:15:28.117-06:00</updated><title type='text'>She is quotations purple...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;She asked me a simple question and I became speechless. Not because I didn't know what to say, because trust me, I knew what to say. No one had ever asked me that question before and I was not at all ready to say it out loud. I figured as long as it was in my mind, I would be safe. I love to store old memories there, like an old-but still reliable hard drive I plan to use again someday. Oddly enough, the moment I began to speak the words aloud, I could see each word, sentence and phrase disintegrate right in front of my face. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;"When did you know it was him? I mean like when did you know he was the one you wanted to be with?"&lt;/span&gt; At first I didn't know whether to say something or run and hide. I thought for a moment and took in all the air I could. Then I spoke the realest shish I ever spoke....(it went something like this) I knew when I looked into his eyes. It was weird actually. I was standing there at the bus stop, minding my own business, when he pulled up and started to talk to me. I was shocked at first, like maybe he thought I was someone else, but nope, he was talking to me. He asked me my name and if I needed a ride. First of all, who does that? Second, was he for real? I told him my name of course and he offered me a ride to school...nice one buddy, I am clearly not headed to any school within 10 miles of that bus stop - they were all High Schools! After I squashed that theory, he offered to take me wherever I was going. 'I only want to spend a little time with you' he said. Wow, who did this dude take me for. Women (in my opinion at the time) who get into cars with strangers were either prostitutes, desperate and starving for attention, or crazy as hell, and will end up on the local news on some ol' local &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;"woman found dead in an alley"&lt;/span&gt; type shish. But there was something about his eyes. I wasn't afraid of him at all. I didn't feel threatened by him one bit. He didn't send my defences into over-drive. He seemed harmless to me. I didn't feel like I would end up on the news, so I got in and we were off. Needless to say, he didn't kill me, well at least not with a weapon anyway. When he dropped me off, I thought that would be the last time I would ever see him again, despite the fact that he asked for my number. I gave him my number and told him it was my birthday. He said he would call me for lunch and pick me up. In my mind I was like 'yeah right' but I gave him the benefit anyway. Not that I waited for him to call me on my lunch break or anything, but I gave the benefit. Low and behold, he didn't call...he came up to my job and picked me up! Imagine that. Something about not saving my number properly. He took me to Subway for my 'Happi Borndate' lunch and asked me out for a birthday dinner later that night. I was floored by all the attention I was getting from him. Not that I was in any way in any lack of attention (that part came easy), it was the chase that was the hard part. Girl, I was so excited for the rest of that day. I went home and put on my favorite sexy dress and got all 'dressed up.'  I couldn't wait to see his face again, spend some time with him, and hear his voice. My Mother and some of the neighbors were standing outside on the lawn of my apt building talking when I came down stairs. I think they were secretly waiting to see what he looked like. He called me and said he was on the corner, and wanted to know if that was me in the orange colored dress. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;'Yes that's me'&lt;/span&gt; I said with a girlish grin. He was on his way to my building, when a car that was coming down the street (with the right away of course) hit his car, or he hit them, or they hit each other - which ever the case, they both got out, had some words and he came on down to my building. I introduced him to my Mother and neighbors and we were off. I asked him later about the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;"accident"&lt;/span&gt; and he said because he had a gun in the car, they settled for 100 bucks. He later told me he felt it was my fault for looking so sexy in my orange dress...Ha! She wanted to know more and I couldn't stop talking. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;"What was he like then?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Was he the same as he is now? Did he seem to have secrets?"&lt;/span&gt;At  first he didn't. He was an open book to all of the questions I was asking at least. I asked his full name, where he lived, was he married, how old he was, was he in school, where he worked etc. Then he pointed out that I had failed to ask the most obvious question. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;"Which was? " &lt;/span&gt;His nationality. He didn't look black and he didn't look white, I thought he was Arab (lol) turned out he was/is Italian. (sexy!) His mother is Black and his Father is Italian. But you know all of this right? I mean after all you met his Mother...I never did. In the past 9yrs that I have known him, I can count on one hand how many friends I have met. I have never met his children for crying out loud! Not that I'm upset that you have, it's just...I thought he would at least introduce me to his children. He knows how much I love children. Anyway, I met his Father and youngest brother however. Anyway, back to the story, we went to see a movie that night for my birthday. I still remember the movie we saw. It was Original Sin with Angelina Jolie and Antonio Banderas. It was a really good movie. I remember when the sex scenes were going on, we would try not to look at one another. It was quite awkward. I kept thinking what a nice guy he was. How handsome he was and how I wanted him to kiss me like in the movies. You know, the guy looks at the girl lovingly and goes in for the kiss-sort of sneaking it without asking her permission. I thought his lips were sexy enough to steal a kiss for myself. Needless to say, he got way more than a kiss, and so did I. He kept telling me how innocent he thought I was and how that was very refreshing to see. He would always look at me with this strange look on his face. I thought maybe my breath wasn't fresh or something. I finally asked him after a long seductive kiss, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;'why do you look at me like that?'&lt;/span&gt; He said it was because when I am kissing him, I didn't seem so innocent. Wow, I thought to myself. I thought after that lovely night I would never hear from him again, and I was okay with that. I had already fixed my mind on the possibility I would never see him again and I had started the preparation processes the moment he dropped me off at home the next day. This was his first, but not last time proving me WRONG-O! He called that same day. He came over every chance he could, he would ride me around with him to places he needed to go. I went to his apartment often, he came to mine. We played video games together...it was perfect. &lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;"Then?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt; Then he did something very suspect and I tried to ignore it. He came over with his game system once and got a phone call. Told me it was his friend. He told me he was leaving to pick up his cord for the game system, and he never came back. Almost like going to pick up some bread and never coming home... Anyway, he called me of course to say something came up, and he would be by to get his game system, but he seemed really strange once he did. Later I find out he didn't go home to get a cord, he went to CSU to see his GIRLFRIEND! Can you believe that sh**t! Well, after that I made every effort to make him see it was me he needed to be with, to no avail of course. Then she began to call me. Yes, she started calling and hanging up. Then she got brave and said some nasty sh**t to me several times-about him being her husband and what not. When I confronted him about it, he denied being her husband and told me he would deal with it. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;"Hotmess.com!"&lt;/span&gt; Yes it was. Then the worst thing ever happen...&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;"What happened?"&lt;/span&gt; I found out I was El Preggo! Yep, that's right I was knocked up and he was the baby daddy. I felt it was only right to tell him about his pending fatherhood in hopes he would be as happy as I was at the time. Not knowing he would be the furtherest thing from happy, because he not only had two children already, he had one on the way with...&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;"Psycho chick"?&lt;/span&gt; Yes, and he freaked! He called me mean and vindictive....can you belive that sh**t?!!! I was too out done....just thinking about it now makes me sad...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#TBC&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-295299293908401643?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/295299293908401643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=295299293908401643&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/295299293908401643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/295299293908401643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/01/she-is-quotations-purple.html' title='She is quotations purple...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-1701163259227635992</id><published>2012-01-02T00:04:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T00:04:11.793-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Got to be Necessary</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;I cant believe I'm laying here at 1158 pm thinking about this dude. I find it very distrubing and I wish I could turn my mind off, press pause or something. All I want is someone who will want to be around me, and someone who wants to spend time with me. Is that too much to ask? smh.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-1701163259227635992?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/1701163259227635992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=1701163259227635992&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1701163259227635992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1701163259227635992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2012/01/got-to-be-necessary.html' title='Got to be Necessary'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2767024151632155946</id><published>2012-01-01T16:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T00:16:25.889-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I need a Voice</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;My heart is bleeding to tell you the secrets that are inside.&lt;div&gt;I want to scream and shout "I love you" every time I see your face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dream about you everynight and I pray for you everyday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I smile whenever you are speaking and I listen to every word you say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My world seems brighter whenever you are around and I see things clearer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would'nt change a single thing about you, because I know God made you in his image.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&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/14413585-2767024151632155946?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2767024151632155946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2767024151632155946&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2767024151632155946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2767024151632155946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-need-voice.html' title='I need a Voice'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><georss:featurename>Calumet City, Calumet City</georss:featurename><georss:point>41.61559 -87.52949</georss:point></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-9003722403608520693</id><published>2011-08-16T01:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T20:36:44.825-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I A Concrete Rose...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DQRf0qkA9a0/TNDbJzPQa_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/XN0Txh5F1RU/s1600/lo.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 640px; height: 480px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DQRf0qkA9a0/TNDbJzPQa_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/XN0Txh5F1RU/s1600/lo.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am starting to feel like "what's the use..." when it comes to me and relationships. I am 30+ years old and I am still single, without even the smallest of possibilities knocking down my door. I mean sure I have guys that want to have "Sexual relations" with me, but not one of them really see me for me. I am starting to think that maybe I should be single, and move past this feeling of defeat. I mean really, I feel really defeated as far as every relationship or 'lack there of' I have ever had. I mean what is the use of trying any more? I'm so hurt by all this loneliness, that I don't even care to have one anymore. I mean guys just look right through now-a-days. Case and point, there is a guy I like right now and he doesn't even know my name; despite the fact I have seen him several times before and I spent a whole week in his presence. As I type this, my eyes feel up with tears just thinking about it. What am I doing wrong? Everyone else....................whew..................never-mind. I'm done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-9003722403608520693?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/9003722403608520693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=9003722403608520693&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/9003722403608520693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/9003722403608520693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/08/im-i-concrete-rose.html' title='Am I A Concrete Rose...?'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DQRf0qkA9a0/TNDbJzPQa_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/XN0Txh5F1RU/s72-c/lo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-7153197740064770347</id><published>2011-03-22T04:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T13:42:44.802-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Friendship Endangerment</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://dl4.glitter-graphics.net/pub/82/82464ccjcfn2cte.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 207px;" src="http://dl4.glitter-graphics.net/pub/82/82464ccjcfn2cte.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so when I woke up that morning, and after I prayed, I began to think of him. It is weird how this has all of a sudden become my daily routine. I blame him of course for this instant infiltration of my mind. Yes, it is all his fault that I only want to see his face in my dreams and in my "awake-ness". I find it hard not to think about him. I pray for him. I check on him. I love to see his face and I love to hear his voice. Someone might say I am infatuated by him; I say I am intrigued by him. He makes me better.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, on the day in question I went about my daily routine as usual and after a large gathering of minds, I had the wonderful opportunity to be in his presence. It was like 1000 fireworks went off in my body when I saw his face. I lit up like the sun! I felt calm and at peace in my spirit. This happens every-time I see his face. This dude moves me yo! So after foodies, laughter and stimulating conversation, it was time to go. Here is where a "habit" turned into a "horrifying feeling". As I was preparing to leave, I hugged everyone as I always do. This particular time when I hugged this powerful being, I accidentally kissed his neck reign. I was so embarrassed! I think my Beige complexion turned about 5 different shades of RED in like 2.2 seconds! I tried to switch the focus onto something else in-case he or anyone else noticed what I had done. There I go talking about the lighting as if that was important.  (insane) I couldn't have been more afraid to lose someone's friendship in my life! I didn't want him to think I was like the others, or that I was looking at him differently. It was the most terrifying 5-6 seconds of my life! I wanted so badly to rewind that good-bye and proclaim a "do-over". Needless to say this was not television or the movies and I didn't have a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;"Neuralyzer" (men in black). I was a wreck after that and when my phone rang, and it was him on the other end, I became even more afraid so I didn't answer. I just knew he was calling to tell me I was out of line or something and that he didn't feel we should be friends anymore. Man...I don't know what I would have done if he had spoke those words. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Well, after all was said and done, and sadness was avoided, I do believe I am "safe" from*tehe*   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-7153197740064770347?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/7153197740064770347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=7153197740064770347&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7153197740064770347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7153197740064770347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/03/friendship-endangerment.html' title='Friendship Endangerment'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8698142463906696395</id><published>2011-03-22T03:13:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T00:08:59.212-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It was simply by habit...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay so I woke up this morning and I felt a little good about myself. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-8698142463906696395?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8698142463906696395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8698142463906696395&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8698142463906696395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8698142463906696395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-was-simply-by-habit.html' title='It was simply by habit...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><georss:featurename>Calumet City, Calumet City</georss:featurename><georss:point>41.61559 -87.52949</georss:point></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-6187082740938989184</id><published>2011-01-24T01:52:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T01:54:19.255-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Spanish Convo Break...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/TT0v9wZJy8I/AAAAAAAABmk/O-FTFX-8JgE/s1600/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 218px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/TT0v9wZJy8I/AAAAAAAABmk/O-FTFX-8JgE/s400/images.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565657452508728258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;Él&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span title="Click for alternate translations" class=""&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;Ven a pasar&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;la noche&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;conmigo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span title="Click for alternate translations" class=""&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;sólo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;me ayudan&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;conciliar el sueño.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;Yo:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;No&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span title="Click for alternate translations" class=""&gt;, gracias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span title="Click for alternate translations" class=""&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;Pasar la&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;noche&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;en&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;sus brazos&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;no&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;suena&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;la pena&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;para nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"&gt;*I know better* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-6187082740938989184?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/6187082740938989184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=6187082740938989184&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6187082740938989184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6187082740938989184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/01/spanish-convo-break.html' title='A Spanish Convo Break...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/TT0v9wZJy8I/AAAAAAAABmk/O-FTFX-8JgE/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-5895298033785328389</id><published>2011-01-18T01:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T01:52:23.134-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Been doing some thinking....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2360/2403249501_a57876dcb8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 339px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2360/2403249501_a57876dcb8.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-5895298033785328389?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/5895298033785328389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=5895298033785328389&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5895298033785328389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5895298033785328389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/01/been-doing-some-thinking.html' title='Been doing some thinking....'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2360/2403249501_a57876dcb8_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8612109003573967554</id><published>2011-01-13T23:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T00:27:07.008-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Honesty Hour Huh?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.topnews.in/files/cartoon-sex.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://www.topnews.in/files/cartoon-sex.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so as I sit here partially enjoying my Movies Night alone, I am browsing twitter and I see all these trend topics about #confessionhour or #honestyhour or whatever the hell, and it got me to thinking about something I want to be honest about right now. I am sitting here thinking about a man...the man I wish I could spend the rest of my natural life with. It's so sad when you think about, because in retrospect, I don't think I really loved him at all. I think I just wanted him to love me so that will know what it feels like. i met him on my birthday - That was one of the best days of my life. I will never forget it. I will never forget how I felt that day. I am recalling it right now as a matter of fact. I wish he were right here next to me. Holding me in his arms as we watch movies #3 of Movies Night. I wish he were kissing me right now and rubbing my back softly as he whispers "I Love You Deirdre" in my ear. I wish he were here making me laugh like only he can do. I wish he were here and I was helping him put together something he no doubt broke (but has the ability to fix) because he is a a genius! I true what the Bible says about soul-ties and such. He is apart of me and I can't let go....even though i am always the one running away from him. I feel like Susannah Fincannon. She was a young woman engaged to Samuel Ludlow, when she met his family and his brother Tristan. At first glance she fell in love with him. One day when they could finally be together it was over as quickly as it started. She loved him with all her heart and soul. She loved him so much, she couldn't breathe. Of course he left her, was gang raped by some gays on a ship and she married his older brother which she did not love and eventually shot herself. I don't want to shoot myself of course, however, I do feel lonely and dead inside without him by mine. I know he may not be what God has for me, and I understand that. it's just.... I honestly love him - and that is something i will just have to live with. (sigh)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-8612109003573967554?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8612109003573967554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8612109003573967554&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8612109003573967554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8612109003573967554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/01/honesty-hour-huh.html' title='Honesty Hour Huh?'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-6726989201924181217</id><published>2011-01-08T17:07:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T17:51:10.648-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 8 of the NY....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSOIXf-yiw3mea8iOTveVrLWqk2WG3THUIe1gdZ1qiTJ9uZ08Qv"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 236px; height: 214px;" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSOIXf-yiw3mea8iOTveVrLWqk2WG3THUIe1gdZ1qiTJ9uZ08Qv" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Okay, so this is day two of life without a phone, and I have to say..."IT SUCKS!!!!!!" I can't call a single soul to come rescue me from my boredom, and what's worse - I can't text, tweet or Facebook at will. Is this some kind of horrible test the Lord has me going through, to prove some spiritual point in which HE only knows the answer to? I think so. Not to mention my room-mate left me here all alone this morning. It's okay though, at least one of us is out of this house. (sigh) &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I should be taking this time to do several things: Homework for next week, homework that is due Monday, finishing my book so I can make some REAL MONEY - but instead I'm sitting here blogging. What can I say, it relaxes me. I have been working on my book for almost 10 years....that's right 10 years!!! What am i waiting for? Do I feel like I can't do it? Do I feel like it's too late? I say yes to all of the above. Lately I have been feeling a bit defeated in all areas of my life. I need something great to happen and quick. In the meantime, I will get started on this assignment and gear up for classes Monday....(sigh) &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/14413585-6726989201924181217?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/6726989201924181217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=6726989201924181217&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6726989201924181217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6726989201924181217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/01/day-8-of-ny.html' title='Day 8 of the NY....'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-343763540576717586</id><published>2011-01-06T00:54:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T01:07:26.345-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Representation of Life....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sdlinkcorp.com/iphone/images/broken-iphone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 480px;" src="http://www.sdlinkcorp.com/iphone/images/broken-iphone.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Okay so I am sitting here struggling to fix my iPhone to no avail of course, and I realize (as I am halfway through the 20th time trying it) what is wrong with it, is a direct reflection of my life. Broke and Busted! and how I do realize this is only temporary, I still cannot help but wonder why in the hell is this happening to me! I feel like crying my eyeballs out right now, because so many thing are happening to me in which I have no control over. I hate (as you can tell) not being in control of anything! Not to mention I have no money to replace this phone or any other phone for that matter. This just SUCKS! I really want to pick this phone up, hold it up to the light, draw my hand back and throw it in the ocean!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-343763540576717586?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/343763540576717586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=343763540576717586&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/343763540576717586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/343763540576717586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/01/representation-of-life.html' title='Representation of Life....'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4334658157612869838</id><published>2011-01-05T18:46:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T18:48:51.531-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Make it plan!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px; "&gt; #truth: When you respond to ignorance you gave it the attention it was seeking anyway. Sometimes it's just best to ignore it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4334658157612869838?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4334658157612869838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4334658157612869838&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4334658157612869838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4334658157612869838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/01/make-it-plan.html' title='Make it plan!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2849310913650514081</id><published>2011-01-04T20:26:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T23:17:53.007-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ti...Ti...Time for some Action!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wassilykandinsky.net/images/works/99.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 429px; height: 644px;" src="http://www.wassilykandinsky.net/images/works/99.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Lord, I AM READY! Did you hear me Lord, I AM READY!!! Whatever it was I was supposed to learn from this whole experience, I believe I have learned it! I have been humiliated, cast out, torn down, wounded...I have cried so many tears, I could have built an Arc and floated away on them for months. I am so ready for a change to come, I  swear I know what "change" tastes like! Btw, I am starting to feel like I am getting on everyone's nerves, bouncing from house to house; apartment to apartment...it's wearing on me, so I know it's wearing on those that I have to live with. This is not the life I thought I was going to have at all - in fact, I do believe I said "no way" to this life long time ago! Everyday when I wake up I know there is something better out there for me. I know I am destined for greatness. I know GOD has not forgotten about me! Still I can't help but feel a little out of my element....LORD I want out of this MATRIX!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-2849310913650514081?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2849310913650514081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2849310913650514081&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2849310913650514081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2849310913650514081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/01/tititime-for-some-action.html' title='Ti...Ti...Time for some Action!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3320861119095068707</id><published>2011-01-03T00:18:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T16:51:32.905-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Boulders and Butterflies Co-exist!</title><content type='html'>It would be easy to simply go back to bed, find that comfy position, pull the covers over my head and start my sleep realm process; however, my mind is clouded with thoughts of you. How dare you infiltrate my mind they way you have. I should have put an "exclamation mark" behind that, but anyway, moving on. I am awake at 12:29am and I have this crazy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I swear boulders and butterflies co-exist down there. I find it hard NOT to smile when I think of something funny we shared together, or a moment when you were encouraging me in one way or another. I had two random thoughts of you while I was video taping Honour's dedication ceremony yesterday. How you managed to find you way into my thoughts during that celebration is beyond my understanding. Then some guy walked past me in the hallway, as I was making my way to the roomies car that smelled just like you. I had to stop and take a whiff and breathe that stuff in...I had forgotten how good you smell. (side-note: you need to try that Usher...it's the bitnzz!) Then as I was eating my authentic Macedonian meal, I could have sworn I heard your laugh in the other room. It was so weird. It was like you were right there through my entire day. Now, the only MAN that has the ability (and the right) to do that is my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ - and guess what...you are not HIM! As I sit here proof reading this blog entry, I can feel movement in my belly. The little twists and turns, flips and skips are making me smile with my heart, and I am powerless against it. I have to wonder if I make you feel the same way. Guess I will have to keep right on wondering, because you will never truly know "the way you make me feel" *wink* &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-3320861119095068707?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3320861119095068707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3320861119095068707&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3320861119095068707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3320861119095068707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/01/boulders-and-butterflies-co-exist.html' title='Boulders and Butterflies Co-exist!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-7859532774173527909</id><published>2011-01-02T10:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T11:14:58.673-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Book of Deirdre</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/TSCqrJ-63RI/AAAAAAAABl0/g22E034RfOo/s1600/2011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/TSCqrJ-63RI/AAAAAAAABl0/g22E034RfOo/s400/2011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557629598566112530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Well, it's 2011 and a new year and a new chapter has begun in my life. I must admit, the last several chapters have been pretty intense and at times pretty boring. When we last saw our heroine &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;(that would be me)&lt;/span&gt;, she was struggling between good and evil. She was on the edge of a serious melt-down and was teetering on the edge of Destruction and Desire. It was all she could do not to make the same mistakes she made in her past. How did she manage to escape her fiendish foes? JESUS! That's how. HE always catches her &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;(me)&lt;/span&gt; when she stumbles and falls. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;"...Until next time"&lt;/span&gt; the villain said as he, she it laughed an evil laugh and walked backwards into the darkness. Sounds like something from a movie or cartoon doesn't it, however, this is reality and I live it everyday. Every night when I lay my head down on the pillow and close my eyes, my story is still being written. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Since my book has begun it's very first chapter, I have experienced tears, joy, heart-ache &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;(lots of heart-ache)&lt;/span&gt; pain, misery, laughter, good-times, bad- times, up and downs. Frustration, disappointment, lies, failures, successes, loneliness, sadness, and lots of hard-work and hard-knocks!  I Met new people, and let go of some old. I've been tossed about like a tennis ball and felt like I have been dragged through the mud and rain, and at the end of the day; I always come out on top and looking clean and white as snow. I have truly learned the meaning of the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;"SURVIVOR"&lt;/span&gt; I used to play the Destiny's Child song "Survivor" like it was going out of style, merely pumping myself up for future hurts and pain - while motivating my enemies to bring the battle on! Now, I play the song as an Anthem of Glory to the testament that GOD can and will fight all my battles and I will be Victorious! 2011 will be my year for GREATNESS! "On-ward" is my new slogan for this year...Onward to Success! Onward to Prosperity! Onward to Great Health! Onward to Happiness! Onward to Debit Freedom! Onward to Peace-of-mind! Onward to Marriage! Onward to Saved Family Members! &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;(etcetera etcetera!)&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;"ONWARD! Let's Go Get Em!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until We Read Again,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Di Di :) &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/14413585-7859532774173527909?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/7859532774173527909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=7859532774173527909&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7859532774173527909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7859532774173527909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2011/01/well-its-2011-and-new-year-and-new.html' title='The Book of Deirdre'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/TSCqrJ-63RI/AAAAAAAABl0/g22E034RfOo/s72-c/2011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4525298841971829613</id><published>2010-10-07T13:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T14:03:14.654-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gifts and Talents....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;This has got to be the most unproductive season of my entire life. I feel as if I am not being used to my full potential and I really do not like it! I will simply wait on the Lord and HE will make room for my gifts and talents! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Corinthians+12:1&amp;amp;version=KJV"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;1 Corinthians 12:1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now concerning spiritual &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;gifts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;, brethren, I would not have you ignorant."&lt;/span&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/14413585-4525298841971829613?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4525298841971829613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4525298841971829613&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4525298841971829613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4525298841971829613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2010/10/gifts-and-talents.html' title='Gifts and Talents....'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-6826117192749965032</id><published>2010-01-14T23:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T23:26:24.033-06:00</updated><title type='text'>When God Steps in as "Husband"</title><content type='html'>&lt;h1 id="ctl00_Content_ArticleTemplate_Title"&gt;When God Steps in as "Husband" &lt;/h1&gt;   &lt;h2 id="ctl00_Content_ArticleTemplate_Author"&gt;Cindi McMenamin&lt;/h2&gt;    &lt;h3 id="ctl00_Content_ArticleTemplate_AuthorPromo"&gt;Author of &lt;i&gt;When Women Walk Alone&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;         &lt;p&gt;Deb learned the hard way that having a husband was not the key to happiness. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Six years into her marriage, Deb's husband recovered from an accident that nearly killed him. Then he decided it was time to live his life to the fullest. With no regard for his family, he quit his job, no longer provided for Deb and her children and stayed out nightly ‘til 3:00 a.m. with no explanation of his whereabouts. Not knowing where to turn, Deb escaped the turmoil by divorcing him. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Deb then married a second husband who seemed compassionate about all she had been through in her first marriage. But five years into her second marriage, her husband became abusive toward her children and ended up having a three-year affair with another woman.  When Deb discovered the affair, she left the marriage and swore off men, wanting nothing to do with another marriage or relationship. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;It was then that God began to show Deb the kind of husband &lt;em&gt;He&lt;/em&gt; could be toward her: her Provider, her Protector, her Counselor, her Friend. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;In &lt;a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/isaiah/passage.aspx?q=Isaiah+54:5-6" target="_blank"&gt;Isaiah 54:5-6&lt;/a&gt;, she read: &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"For your Maker is your husband&lt;em&gt;—&lt;/em&gt;the LORD Almighty is his name….The LORD will call you back as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit—a wife who married young, only to be rejected," says your God.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;As Deb began to grow in her relationship with God, she began to see the many ways He could husband her and she realized she didn't need to keep looking for a man to marry.  She had all she needed in God.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;"I told God I didn't need a man as long as I had Him!" Deb told me, as she recalled her story.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;That was when God unexpectedly brought Dave into Deb's life. Dave was committed to God and was able to show Deb what a godly marriage looked like. Together, Dave and Deb now serve God through various ministries at their church. But Deb is convinced she had to first look to God to be her husband, before she could recognize a godly man. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;As she began to understand God's love for her, she was better able to recognize unconditional love in a man. As she saw who she was in God's eyes, she saw how she deserved to be treated by a man.  God won't necessarily bring a man into your life just because you put Him first, as He did for Deb. But God &lt;em&gt;will&lt;/em&gt; fill that hole in your heart with a sense of fulfillment only He can provide. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I, too, had to learn the hard way that the Lord is my husband. Unlike Deb originally did, I married a man who was everything I had hoped and prayed for. But even being married to a pastor, I quickly learned that my husband was not perfect in the ways God is. My earthly husband could not be God in my life and meet all of my emotional needs. God had to be my "Husband." And while my earthly husband does what he can to love me in the way God has called him to, only the Lord Jesus, the Lover of my Soul, can love me in a way that completes me and will never disappoint me. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;For instance, I still, at times, look to my husband to truly know me and understand me as no one else does. But even after twenty-one years of marriage, he still can't understand my thoughts, predict my actions, and know exactly what to say when I'm feeling a certain way.  That is still a task that is beyond him in his humanity.  Yet, in &lt;a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/psalms/139-2.html" target="_blank"&gt;Psalm 139:2&lt;/a&gt;, the Psalmist describes God by saying "You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar." God actually knows my thoughts before I think them, my words before I say them, and my actions before I carry them out. On days I feel misunderstood and wish my husband understood me better, I can go to God and know He completely understands the intentions of my mind and heart. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;There have also been times I have wanted my husband to affirm me and give me a sense of purpose. Yet, again, in his humanity, he can never say and do enough to communicate affirmation to the depths of my soul. But God, the Maker of my soul, says in His Word that "we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do" (&lt;a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/ephesians/2-10.html" target="_blank"&gt;Ephesians 2:10&lt;/a&gt;). His Word says "I am fearfully and wonderfully made" (&lt;a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/psalms/139-14.html" target="_blank"&gt;Psalm 139:14&lt;/a&gt;) and that He knows the plans He has for me, plans to prosper me and not to harm me, "plans to give(me) hope and a future" (&lt;a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/jeremiah/29-11.html" target="_blank"&gt;Jeremiah 29:11&lt;/a&gt;). &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Yes, those verses may just sound like words at first. But when you get to know intimately the One who said those words, they become words more personal and precious than you can imagine. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Are you still waiting for a godly man to come into your life? If so, let God be &lt;em&gt;the Man&lt;/em&gt;.  He wants to be the One to husband you. He wants to be the One that you depend on and look to first to be your Provider, Protector, Comforter and Friend. He is, after all, the Only One on this earth who is truly able to say "I will never leave you" (&lt;a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/hebrews/13-5.html" target="_blank"&gt;Hebrews 13:5&lt;/a&gt;). He is the Only One who is able to say to you "I have loved you with an everlasting love…" (&lt;a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/jeremiah/31-3.html" target="_blank"&gt;Jeremiah 31:3&lt;/a&gt;) and He is the Only One who was able to go to the grave and back to get you for His own (&lt;a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/romans/5-8.html" target="_blank"&gt;Romans 5:8&lt;/a&gt;). &lt;/p&gt; Trust the One who knows your whole history when it comes to relationships—the loves you've longed for, and those you've lost. And realize that the God of this universe—who knows all about your flaws and your failures, your worries and your weaknesses—still chooses to love you and call you His bride.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-6826117192749965032?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.crosswalk.com/singles/11624596/page0/' title='When God Steps in as &quot;Husband&quot;'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/6826117192749965032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=6826117192749965032&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6826117192749965032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6826117192749965032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2010/01/when-god-steps-in-as-husband.html' title='When God Steps in as &quot;Husband&quot;'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4752933291038324262</id><published>2010-01-11T22:37:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T22:37:07.678-06:00</updated><title type='text'>formspring.me</title><content type='html'>    &lt;p class="formspringmeQuestion"&gt;        &lt;strong&gt;Everyone has an experience after the age of 18 that lets them know they are really an adult now.  What was yours?&lt;/strong&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;To be honest, I didn&amp;#039;t experience a single thing after 18 that let me know I was an adult. I have been super spoiled my whole life. However, after I turned 23...now that&amp;#039;s a whole other story. I nearly Lost my mind then. I thought i would never feel that kind of pain ever in my life again;then Thanksgiving 2009 came and I it was like 23 all over again. Details coming soon on Blogger!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/iDeirdre"&gt;Ask Away! Keep it Decent Plz&amp;amp;Thanku! &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4752933291038324262?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4752933291038324262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4752933291038324262&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4752933291038324262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4752933291038324262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2010/01/formspringme_11.html' title='formspring.me'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4037411107584729573</id><published>2010-01-02T21:21:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T21:21:27.612-06:00</updated><title type='text'>formspring.me</title><content type='html'>    &lt;p class="formspringmeQuestion"&gt;        &lt;strong&gt;If you could wake up as anyone tomorrow, who would it be?&lt;/strong&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;Jesus!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/iDeirdre"&gt;Ask Away! Keep it Decent Plz&amp;amp;Thanku! &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4037411107584729573?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4037411107584729573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4037411107584729573&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4037411107584729573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4037411107584729573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2010/01/formspringme_2835.html' title='formspring.me'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-5718940795236667067</id><published>2010-01-02T21:20:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T21:20:59.243-06:00</updated><title type='text'>formspring.me</title><content type='html'>    &lt;p class="formspringmeQuestion"&gt;        &lt;strong&gt;What celebrity would play you in a movie about your life?&lt;/strong&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;Thandie Newton! She would have to put on some weight, but she would look Fabulous!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/iDeirdre"&gt;Ask Away! Keep it Decent Plz&amp;amp;Thanku! &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-5718940795236667067?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/5718940795236667067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=5718940795236667067&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5718940795236667067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5718940795236667067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2010/01/formspringme_02.html' title='formspring.me'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-5252615700787895770</id><published>2010-01-02T21:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T21:19:31.133-06:00</updated><title type='text'>formspring.me</title><content type='html'>    &lt;p class="formspringmeQuestion"&gt;        &lt;strong&gt;What&amp;#039;s the nicest thing someone&amp;#039;s ever done for you?&lt;/strong&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;Someone wrote a &amp;quot;Bedtime&amp;quot; Story esplly for me and it was the sweetest gesture I ever received. TY E;))&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/iDeirdre"&gt;Ask Away! Keep it Decent Plz&amp;amp;Thanku! &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-5252615700787895770?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/5252615700787895770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=5252615700787895770&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5252615700787895770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5252615700787895770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2010/01/formspringme.html' title='formspring.me'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4112971812505607274</id><published>2009-11-27T00:33:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T00:43:14.859-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What's Next?</title><content type='html'>I think I will write a book.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4112971812505607274?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4112971812505607274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4112971812505607274&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4112971812505607274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4112971812505607274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/11/whats-next.html' title='What&apos;s Next?'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3706382453463337405</id><published>2009-11-08T21:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T17:38:48.424-06:00</updated><title type='text'>She was Fierce! Pt1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.clipartof.com/small/44613-Clipart-Illustration-Of-A-Beautiful-Black-Woman-Wearing-Stylish-Clothes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 450px;" src="http://images.clipartof.com/small/44613-Clipart-Illustration-Of-A-Beautiful-Black-Woman-Wearing-Stylish-Clothes.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Me,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You really need to get it together! You really need to get a grip. Who cares what everyone else thinks about you? You are the only one that matters right now and you are losing it! I can't believe how pitiful you have become...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;putting&lt;/span&gt; some lame "boy" before yourself. You never used to be this girl. I don't even know you anymore. I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It's like yesterday you used to be so full of life and made the room shine with your smile. Now it seems so dark and gloomy wen you enter a room, I just want to get away from you. What happen to that girl that loved herself enough to let things go that could &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;potentially&lt;/span&gt; harm her? What happen to the fun loving girl that made everyone laugh out loud with joy after she told a story or two? What happen to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;vibrant&lt;/span&gt; young lady that knew who she was and what she wanted out of life? I miss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;There was no one like her. She was the bomb! There wasn't anything she couldn't do and there was no one that could stop her. She was Fierce! I remember a time when she would laugh off the pain from her haters and demand their respect. And as for "him" he would think twice before speaking to you like that. I remember when she used to know how to "let it go!" and really "let it go!" I miss her. I remember when "he" had mad respect for her, and would never take her for granted. And if "he" did, he would apologize and let her be. I miss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Where is the person that knew exactly what to say when everyone else was feeling low? Where is the tough but sweet lady that had everyones back when times got rough? Where is the girl that used to smile all the time...it was contagious I tell you. Where is the girl that looked at the bright side of every situation and could always seem to find that damn "silver linning" even when others wanted it to remain hidden. Man I miss her. Everytime I think about how much fun she was, I wonder what made her go into hiding. What could possibly make her retreat and take cover. I wish that "bravebird" would resurface....I miss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/14413585-3706382453463337405?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3706382453463337405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3706382453463337405&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3706382453463337405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3706382453463337405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/10/she-was-fierce-pt1.html' title='She was Fierce! Pt1'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2368454962358312726</id><published>2009-11-01T13:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T14:06:16.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Get A Leg Up!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sugarscape.com/userfiles/leggings%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 429px;" src="http://www.sugarscape.com/userfiles/leggings%282%29.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I absolutely love Leggings and Thigh-gings (if you will) I think they have made a triumphant return to fashion in a major way. No longer are leggings just for your work-out! Women all across the globe from Run-ways to lunch dates are bringing sexy back with a pair of leggings! There is no wrong way to wear a pair of leggings or thigh-gings, as a matter of fact mostly anyone can pull off a pair over everything from: Jeans to Miniskirts. They make a great fashion accessory and can somehow transform an every day pair of shoes into fabulous footwear. Women of all ages are wearing them this season and look fabulous doing it. Here are a few styles and ways to make your leggings fit you age appropriately. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://cluelessfashionista.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/20061019_082528_sty22leggings2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 600px; height: 389px;" src="http://cluelessfashionista.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/20061019_082528_sty22leggings2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wear mine with a pair of heels or boots and a funky jacket. I sometimes add a chunky scarf for a more dramatic Asian street feel. I Love it! Lindsay Lohan has made it her "business" so to speak to bring leggings into the forefront of fashion by starting her own line of leggings. Get in queue now, because &lt;a href="http://www.shinystyle.tv/2008/05/lindsay-lohan-leggings-iconic-117589.html"&gt;Lindsay Lohan's leggings line '6126'&lt;/a&gt; are on sale in a big way at Nordstrom.  Leggings have made a serious come-back and are so fashion forward right now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;iDeirdre (and iWear Leggings!)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Su3qBYxOMkI/AAAAAAAABjk/YOqC_azGGgc/s1600-h/100_2513.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Su3qBYxOMkI/AAAAAAAABjk/YOqC_azGGgc/s400/100_2513.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399228837836763714" 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/14413585-2368454962358312726?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2368454962358312726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2368454962358312726&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2368454962358312726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2368454962358312726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/11/get-leg-up.html' title='Get A Leg Up!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Su3qBYxOMkI/AAAAAAAABjk/YOqC_azGGgc/s72-c/100_2513.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8036530739963473536</id><published>2009-10-16T00:06:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T00:06:22.675-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I&amp;#39;m sad n lonely. He&amp;#39;s going back to Cali n to her. At this point, I&amp;#39;d rather be blind than see him leave me. So I will stay away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-8036530739963473536?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8036530739963473536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8036530739963473536&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8036530739963473536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8036530739963473536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-sad-n-lonely.html' title=''/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-7121591925423595940</id><published>2009-10-13T12:58:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T12:58:41.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>aid a woman had to &amp;quot;earn&amp;quot; him first before he thought about marrying them....I wonder if I&amp;#39;ve &amp;quot;earned&amp;quot; him yet. Ummmmm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-7121591925423595940?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/7121591925423595940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=7121591925423595940&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7121591925423595940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7121591925423595940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/10/aid-woman-had-to-him-first-before-he.html' title=''/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2374717588027475412</id><published>2009-10-13T12:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T12:58:37.410-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>He means the world to me and I almost killed him to tonight. Not on purpose, but totally by accident. I was just trying to help him that&amp;#39;s all. He once s&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-2374717588027475412?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2374717588027475412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2374717588027475412&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2374717588027475412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2374717588027475412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/10/he-means-world-to-me-and-i-almost.html' title=''/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3244299952597457883</id><published>2009-10-13T12:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T12:58:34.217-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am sitting in the hospital waiting room waiting on him. Sometimes I wonder why I do certain things for him. I guess it is because I honestly love him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-3244299952597457883?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3244299952597457883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3244299952597457883&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3244299952597457883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3244299952597457883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-am-sitting-in-hospital-waiting-room.html' title=''/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-196563146584488333</id><published>2009-09-29T23:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T02:15:57.481-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The End...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SsMFnbaMZQI/AAAAAAAABjU/Oa9GPAxISf8/s1600-h/IMG00308.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SsMFnbaMZQI/AAAAAAAABjU/Oa9GPAxISf8/s400/IMG00308.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387155754195903746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September 29, 2009&lt;p&gt;Eight years. Eight years I loved a man that would never be mine. I cared&lt;br /&gt;more about him then I did myself. How do I know, because I am the only&lt;br /&gt;one crying that's how I know. I would have climbed a mountain if he&lt;br /&gt;asked me to. And with bleeding fingers I would have climbed some more. I&lt;br /&gt;have never felt this way about anyone, ever. And I doubt I ever will.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He said something to me tonight that finally let me know it (whatever it&lt;br /&gt;was) was over. "Take it easy sweets." He said take it&lt;br /&gt;easy....woooooo(breathe girl...breathe) I guess he was right, I don't&lt;br /&gt;know how to be just friends and not want a relationship. Hell, all I&lt;br /&gt;ever wanted was a relationship. I don't know how to be one of those&lt;br /&gt;girls that just take what they can get. That s**t hurts too much. I felt&lt;br /&gt;something that was just not there.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have so much to say but I can't seem to put it in words right now. I&lt;br /&gt;love that man. I truly do. And letting him go hurts like hell right now.&lt;br /&gt;I don't like this pain. I don't like the way this feels. I was never his&lt;br /&gt;lady. I was always the "Katie girl" that's what I get for thinking too&lt;br /&gt;big. That's what I get for stepping out of my box. I gave away too much.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want it back.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Etta James says it best: "I'd rather go blind then to watch u walk outta&lt;br /&gt;my life I'd rather be blind, then to see you walk away from me. I'd&lt;br /&gt;rather be blind"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;September 29, 2009....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                       The End&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Until We Read Again,&lt;br /&gt;iDeirdre&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-196563146584488333?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/196563146584488333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=196563146584488333&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/196563146584488333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/196563146584488333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/end.html' title='The End...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SsMFnbaMZQI/AAAAAAAABjU/Oa9GPAxISf8/s72-c/IMG00308.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-845356743678690728</id><published>2009-09-21T22:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T22:47:12.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrhIiAInZ-I/AAAAAAAABiM/ARjHqNZhntU/s1600-h/happybirthday1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrhIiAInZ-I/AAAAAAAABiM/ARjHqNZhntU/s400/happybirthday1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384133103510317026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;!--- blog subject ---&gt;         &lt;div class="blogSubject"&gt;           Current mood: &lt;img src="http://x.myspacecdn.com/images/blog/moods/iBrads/tired.gif" /&gt; peaceful                                  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Category:&lt;/b&gt; Life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;                                 &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;                     &lt;div id="pBlogBody_355580704" class="blogContent"&gt;Today I took myself out on a date. That's right, I went to dinner with myself. I have to admit it was interesting to say the least, but I survived. I hadn't planned on going by myself, I was going to take a certain someone, then I changed my mind and took myself. I used to have a problem with going out to eat by myself and would often take "props" along whenever I would. Like: a book, my laptop or some homework/paperwork that would make me appear to be busy. However this time was different. I just woke up after my nap and said... "I'm going to dinner."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course whenever you enter a restaurant, the host or hostess always asks, "how many?" I simply said "1" and the shame began! Why is it when you are "1" people try to "single shame" you? I like being "1".....maybe not ALL the time, but I like it. It reminds me that I am special and God doesn't want to give me just any ole man. HE wants me to have the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to my favorite restaurant The Grand Lux on Michigan Ave(using some Bday money I recieved the day before) and upon entry I got the "Is she alone" look from one hostess and the "I hope not" look from another. It was almost enough to make me want to turn around and go home, but I couldn't bring myself to give them any satisfaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ms. Are you waiting for someone?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No its just me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked for a promenade (window) seat and ordered my meal...The Carmel Chicken w/a Cosmo. I sat there and watched as many people combed the summer streets. It was wonderful....Happy Birthday to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Until We Read Again,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Deirdre&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-845356743678690728?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/845356743678690728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=845356743678690728&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/845356743678690728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/845356743678690728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/current-mood-peaceful-category-life.html' title=''/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrhIiAInZ-I/AAAAAAAABiM/ARjHqNZhntU/s72-c/happybirthday1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-6505540900097570680</id><published>2009-09-20T07:27:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T22:34:13.863-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Today is My Birth Anniversary!</title><content type='html'>Thank you my Lord for another year of life! I Truly Love YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="300" height="300"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5DC-pIvNODU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5DC-pIvNODU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-6505540900097570680?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/6505540900097570680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=6505540900097570680&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6505540900097570680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6505540900097570680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/today-is-my-birth-anniversary.html' title='Today is My Birth Anniversary!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-1178919866901440448</id><published>2009-09-19T19:31:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T19:42:25.891-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Poor Nissan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV54qNdL_I/AAAAAAAABiE/XaBUhZDV6R0/s1600-h/IMG00260.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV54qNdL_I/AAAAAAAABiE/XaBUhZDV6R0/s400/IMG00260.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383342943901659122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV54H2iFdI/AAAAAAAABh8/GExR1P-SmZI/s1600-h/IMG00262.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV54H2iFdI/AAAAAAAABh8/GExR1P-SmZI/s400/IMG00262.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383342934678705618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well today turned out to be a real suckie day. It started out nicely. I got some rest and then ran some important errands, came back home and got some more rest. Then just as i was about to head to the good house o the Lord, some crazy dude drove past my car sideswiping it; thus taking my rear view mirror off and leaving me with no mirror and heavy paint damage. I was so hot!!!! I could not believe it. I was that close from being killed and to top it off...I have no money to fix it right now. When it rains it pours and I am getting sick and tired of all this rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know my blessing is around the corner with Atonement just around the bend. I just hope and Pray that I will be able to hold on that long. I feel like giving up some days, I swear I do....I owe God too much to that, still I can't help but feel that way at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just look at my baby, she has done nothing but good for people....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV53f8kjoI/AAAAAAAABh0/_cfqdQhv_Os/s1600-h/IMG00260.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV53f8kjoI/AAAAAAAABh0/_cfqdQhv_Os/s400/IMG00260.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383342923966615170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV52hEIU_I/AAAAAAAABhs/rOo5u0yic8s/s1600-h/IMG00258.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV52hEIU_I/AAAAAAAABhs/rOo5u0yic8s/s400/IMG00258.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383342907086885874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV5mLv3qgI/AAAAAAAABhk/479F-r83TlA/s1600-h/IMG00259.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV5mLv3qgI/AAAAAAAABhk/479F-r83TlA/s400/IMG00259.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383342626486856194" 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/14413585-1178919866901440448?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/1178919866901440448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=1178919866901440448&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1178919866901440448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1178919866901440448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/poor-nissan.html' title='Poor Nissan'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrV54qNdL_I/AAAAAAAABiE/XaBUhZDV6R0/s72-c/IMG00260.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2933216165354085336</id><published>2009-09-18T23:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T23:19:56.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Colors of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrRbnHTNxhI/AAAAAAAABhc/SXEXwEBn9Ro/s1600-h/swirlsyinyang.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrRbnHTNxhI/AAAAAAAABhc/SXEXwEBn9Ro/s400/swirlsyinyang.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383028182147253778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;!--- blog subject ---&gt;         &lt;div class="blogSubject"&gt;           &lt;label id="pBlogSubject_345768448"&gt;Colors of Love&lt;/label&gt;                                        &lt;br /&gt;Current mood: &lt;img src="http://x.myspacecdn.com/images/blog/moods/iBrads/apathetic.gif" /&gt; lonely                                 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Category:&lt;/b&gt; Writing and Poetry                                 &lt;/div&gt;                                 &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;                     &lt;div id="pBlogBody_345768448" class="blogContent"&gt;&lt;p&gt;What do you do when the phone rings and it's not him? What happens when a text msg comes through and u wish it was him? I wrote a poem about it, wanna hear it? Here it go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red hot are my feelings for him. I think about him all the time. Yellow is the sun when it comes up in the morning and sprinkles a ray of light in his window to wake him up. I pray for that light to shine on him. I want him to know what it looks like when he sees it on me. Pink are my lips so soft like two tiny little pillows...."Got me feinin for his lips on my kiss..." &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I'm Green with envy that I can't feel his touch yet another woman does. Purple rain plays in the background as I try to drown my sadness in song. Orange peels in bed...Orange peels in my bed, I'm so Blue without you. White sheets so crisp and cold. I hate going to bed alone. Hey Brown eyed girl get a grip on yourself!...his Black heart won't allow him to see what's right in front of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Deirdre Edwina~&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Until We Read Again,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Deirdre &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-2933216165354085336?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2933216165354085336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2933216165354085336&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2933216165354085336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2933216165354085336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/colors-of-love.html' title='Colors of Love'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrRbnHTNxhI/AAAAAAAABhc/SXEXwEBn9Ro/s72-c/swirlsyinyang.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8311972330129512825</id><published>2009-09-17T11:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T11:09:32.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>For The Wrong Reasons...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrJfJrT-RrI/AAAAAAAABhU/uqItmOLqWn0/s1600-h/kissme_app_profile.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrJfJrT-RrI/AAAAAAAABhU/uqItmOLqWn0/s400/kissme_app_profile.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382469124511123122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish "liking" someone was simple. Sometimes, people &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; they like someone when they don't really like them. &lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/dating-outlook-mindset?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: Do You Have A Good Dating Mindset?" target="_blank"&gt;This phenomenon is based on your situation and circumstance in the dating world.&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;Here are some reasons you may think you like someone:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;You're Bored&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/ignoring-dating-red-flags?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: 3 Dating Red Flags You Can't Ignore" target="_blank"&gt;A friend of mine recently visited NYC and got the runaround from an older guy.&lt;/a&gt; After he was a jerk to her, she continued to try to convince me that he wasn't a bad guy. She returned home and we discussed him at length. Then, Summer ended and she began studying for LSATs. I never heard about the guy again. When you don't have much going on, or much to think about, sometimes you end up getting fixated on a romantic interest out of boredom.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;You're Desperate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/baby-steps-having-a-child?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: Baby Steps To Making Babies" target="_blank"&gt;I have to admit, I've had many instances where I met a girl and thought she was "the one" just because I got her number.&lt;/a&gt; When I'm feeling desperate, I get way too into it before I even know the girl.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;Everyone Else Likes Someone, So Why Shouldn't You?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/last-one-standing-090514?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: Last One Standing" target="_blank"&gt;That feeling of being the only single one in the group&lt;/a&gt; intensifies &lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/holiday-hurdles-relationships?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: Holiday Hurdles For Your Relationship" target="_blank"&gt;around the holidays&lt;/a&gt; or a flurry of weddings with your friends. When you're the last single person in the group, there's a little extra pressure to find someone.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;You Got Caught Up In The Moment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;After you finally have time to catch your breath after certain meetings, you decide you weren't really into someone as much as you thought you were when you were dancing, drinking, and having a great time. It's the "honeymoon is over" phenomenon. The time it takes to "snap out of it" varies: it could be a day, a week, or even longer.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;You're Due&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I didn't like my girlfriend in college. But by the time I was a senior, I wanted to experience having a girlfriend in college after three years of single life. I ended up dating a girl that I wasn't even attracted to but, at the time, I thought I liked her.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;You Like What They Represent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/labor-day-weekend-090908?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: Memories From My Labor Day Weekend" target="_blank"&gt;I got back from this past Labor Day thinking of a girl I met at my favorite bar in Dewey Beach, DE.&lt;/a&gt; But it turns out that I was missing what she represented: my Labor Day vacation with the boys. There is also "looking good on paper," as my friend Margaret calls it- &lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/deal-sealers-090519?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: Have You Ever Been Attracted To A Deal Sealer?" target="_blank"&gt;being attracted to their "stats," but not their personality.&lt;/a&gt; This could be a doctor or lawyer or someone with an attractive last name like Rockefeller or Kennedy. Maybe &lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/bad-mens-fashion?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: What's Your Least Favorite Look On A Guy?" target="_blank"&gt;you like that he wears madras shorts&lt;/a&gt; and attended Yale. Or maybe it's the long-haired struggling artist who bartends. &lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/sex-single-guy-7?click=img_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: The Story Of Other Emily" target="_blank"&gt;I once dated a girl because she lived next to Ravens stadium and I could tailgate there every Sunday.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;They Are Unavailable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/going-for-unavailable-girls-080707?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: Why Do I Go For Unavailable Girls?" target="_blank"&gt;The unavailable person presents a challenge,&lt;/a&gt; and you work for the day you can win them over in triumph. Or, they keep you away from the person that might work out because you're actually afraid of getting into a real relationship.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;It's Convenient&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Humans are so unpredictable-sometimes they like challenges, sometimes they just like it when things are easy. So, maybe they aren't attractive-they have a pool, their dog is cute, you can borrow their car whenever you want, and there's a Chic-fil-a around the corner from their place. Sign me up!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;You Were Different Back Then&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;How many exes and conquests do we look back on and chuckle because we can't believe we even liked them? As you change, so do the people you're attracted to. &lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/why-go-for-jerks-080614?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: Why Do Girls Go For Jerks?" target="_blank"&gt;Years ago you were into jerks&lt;/a&gt; or bad boys, or you didn't know what you wanted. Nowadays, you look for that less than 1% of guys that are actually nice and attractive. You've learned!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;When you like someone for the wrong reasons, it just means &lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/when-will-i-be-ready-for-marriage?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: When Will I Be Ready?" target="_blank"&gt;you're not ready for a serious, mature relationship.&lt;/a&gt; If you're desperate, bored, or pressuring yourself to find someone, for example, your life is not in a good place for you to be happy on your own. And, if you are not happy on your own, you are usually not going to be happy with somebody else. The mind can sometimes convince you that you're doing the right thing. I think most of the reasons above &lt;a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/guys-and-sports-why-men-like-sports?click=main_sr&amp;amp;link=emb&amp;amp;dom=yah_life&amp;amp;src=syn&amp;amp;con=blog&amp;amp;mag=mar" rel="nofollow" title="Dating Diaries: Why Are Guys Obsessed With Sports?" target="_blank"&gt;(well, the Ravens Stadium situation was a legit reason to love a girl)&lt;/a&gt; occur unconsciously during moments of weakness.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Have you ever liked someone just for the sake of liking them for any of the above reasons? What other reasons would you add to the list above? How do healthy relationships differ from the times you like someone just for the sake of liking them?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Follow me on Twitter: &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/richravens" rel="nofollow" title="Rich's Twitter" target="_blank"&gt;twitter.com/richravens&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reprinted with Permission of Hearst Communications, Inc.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-8311972330129512825?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8311972330129512825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8311972330129512825&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8311972330129512825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8311972330129512825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/for-wrong-reasons.html' title='For The Wrong Reasons...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrJfJrT-RrI/AAAAAAAABhU/uqItmOLqWn0/s72-c/kissme_app_profile.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-1826859508719662752</id><published>2009-09-16T11:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T00:56:30.884-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My heart is 1 crack healed from being whole again.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrHOYwkzLWI/AAAAAAAABhM/WgaeWmJs5vE/s1600-h/disney-fairies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrHOYwkzLWI/AAAAAAAABhM/WgaeWmJs5vE/s400/disney-fairies.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382309954435886434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a good day. I have to admit I have been in a good mood all day. It started out pretty strong with Kemuel and I watching the "Backyardigans" together and then hanging out with Mother practically all day. I was nice. I felt a little nauseous towards the afternoon, but that quickly passed. I got a new handbag as an early Bday gift, so like I said- today was pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Lil nephew caught me crying this evening as I was preparing for my special Bday dinner with my girls, and it made him sad. He asked my why was I crying and I didn't want to say. Children are very smart. He actually told me why I was crying and told me what to do to make it stop. It was funny because he is only 9 years old, but he has a lot of sense. He gave me some awesome advice and I took it. I even let him watch me do what he suggested. It not only made me feel better, but it put his little heart at ease as well. My heart is 1 crack healed from being whole again. The bible states that "a little child shall lead thee..." He taught me a valuable lesson today, and I will not forget his strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you dearly Jaylend:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Fast-forward to 12:53am 9-17-09: I just got in from my Bday dinner with my girl friends and Irvin. It was short but sweet. I love the people I was with and I thank God for them. they rock and that Jack Daniels Chicken and Shrimp platter was fye business! TY Gals and Irvin (my new male bestie)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-1826859508719662752?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/1826859508719662752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=1826859508719662752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1826859508719662752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1826859508719662752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-heart-is-1-crack-healed-from-being.html' title='My heart is 1 crack healed from being whole again.'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrHOYwkzLWI/AAAAAAAABhM/WgaeWmJs5vE/s72-c/disney-fairies.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-7390248996517069830</id><published>2009-09-15T22:29:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T22:36:02.135-05:00</updated><title type='text'>His face in my dreams seizes my guts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrBcbNriGhI/AAAAAAAABhE/VcKhtweTwe4/s1600-h/fight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrBcbNriGhI/AAAAAAAABhE/VcKhtweTwe4/s400/fight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381903177306216978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to make it all the way to 10pm without thinking about him, and here come the water works. Damn! I want some ice-cream really bad right now. See this is stuff I can't &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"Tweet" &lt;/span&gt;or &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;"Update"&lt;/span&gt; On the bright side, I had a Superfantastic time in my online class chat room. Meeting my classmates and discussing topics related to our class. This is shaping up to be a great experience for me. I'm excited and exhausted all at the same time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-7390248996517069830?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/7390248996517069830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=7390248996517069830&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7390248996517069830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7390248996517069830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/his-face-in-my-dreams-seizes-my-guts.html' title='His face in my dreams seizes my guts'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SrBcbNriGhI/AAAAAAAABhE/VcKhtweTwe4/s72-c/fight.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2365377596449343740</id><published>2009-09-14T21:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T21:40:27.502-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kemuel's Back!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sq7-djgav7I/AAAAAAAABg8/1aVepYmy7O8/s1600-h/lovenpeace.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sq7-djgav7I/AAAAAAAABg8/1aVepYmy7O8/s400/lovenpeace.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381518388455194546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I spent the most wonderful day of my life with a little guy that loves me purely. My God son Kemuel. I will have the pleasure of spending 2 weeks with him (maybe more...) while his arm heals. He had a nasty fall a few days ago, and broke his little arm. He was going to start pre-school but he has to wait until his arm heals. I am so excited to be spending this quality time with him. Today he made me smile from my heart. I so needed to smile today, and his pure love came right in handy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found myself crying this morning around 1am. I will not go into why or who was the cause of my "all of a sudden" sadness and burst of tears. All I will say is I had to make a tough choice and as much as it hurt, I must now pick myself up and dust off my heart. People brush their shoulders off...I dust my heart off. I gotta keep on being me no matter what. Being me is all I know how to do. I can't and won't change. One day someone will see me for who I really am and what I have to offer. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;"I Hate U" &lt;/span&gt;is what he said to me. Well be that as it may, I never really had your heart anyway now did I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-2365377596449343740?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2365377596449343740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2365377596449343740&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2365377596449343740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2365377596449343740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/kemuels-back.html' title='Kemuel&apos;s Back!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sq7-djgav7I/AAAAAAAABg8/1aVepYmy7O8/s72-c/lovenpeace.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4902086967628637861</id><published>2009-09-13T22:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T22:13:44.325-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun Sun Parks and Purses</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs244.snc1/9127_1157071219423_1607021242_30386942_5562904_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 452px;" src="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs244.snc1/9127_1157071219423_1607021242_30386942_5562904_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had so much fun today! It started with a pinic/meeting in the park, Centennial Park in Munster, IN to be exact. The Props dept of my churches Performing Arts Ministry had a meeting there today and I was invited. It was so nice to get out and think about other things besides my normal drama. I think I lost about 7 pounds all that running from bees I did. LOL! And wound up getting stung in the foot. Go figure. I learned more about what it takes to be affective on a team and I will keep that knowledge fresh in my mind for days to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after that I went to a Purse party. It was amazing and the bags were fabulous! I this really cute pink Jimmy Choo bag I wanted, but it was not in the budget, so I couldn't get it. No worries I had a great time doing life with some really cool people. And now I am off to sleep for school for me begins tomorrow and I needs my rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.&lt;br /&gt;That's me in the multi-colored skirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deirdre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4902086967628637861?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4902086967628637861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4902086967628637861&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4902086967628637861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4902086967628637861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/fun-sun-parks-and-purses.html' title='Fun Sun Parks and Purses'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-6953923742489713802</id><published>2009-09-12T23:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T23:51:39.981-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Healing from My Pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.tmbcweb.org/images/themegraphics/topleft.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 260px;" src="http://www.tmbcweb.org/images/themegraphics/topleft.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://x.myspace.com/images/spacer.gif" border="0" height="1" width="30" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;                                 &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Psalms 92&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What a beautiful thing, God, to give thanks, to sing an anthem to you, the High God! To announce your love each daybreak, sing your faithful presence all through the night, Accompanied by dulcimer and harp, the full-bodied music of strings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You made me so happy, God. I saw your work, and I shouted for joy. How magnifcent &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;                                 &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;your work, God! How profound your thoughts! Dullards never notice what you do; fools never do get it. When the wicked popped up like weeds and all the evil men and women took over, You mowed them down, finished them off once and for all. You, God, are High and Eternal. Look at your enemies, God! Look at your enemies -ruined! Scattered to the winds, all those hirelings of evil!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you've made me strong as a charging bison, you've honored me with a festive parade. The sigh t of my critics going down is still fresh, the rout of my malicious detractors. My ears are filled with the sounds of promise: "Good people will prosper like palm trees, Grow tall like Lebanon cedars; transplanted to God's courtyard, They'll grow tall in the presence of God, lithe and green, virile still in old age."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such witnesses to upright God! My Mountain. My huge, holy Mountain!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Until We Read Again,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Deirdre&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Current mood: &lt;img src="http://x.myspacecdn.com/images/blog/moods/iBrads/cold.gif" /&gt; numb                                 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Category:&lt;/b&gt; Life &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-6953923742489713802?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/6953923742489713802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=6953923742489713802&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6953923742489713802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6953923742489713802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/healing-from-my-pain.html' title='Healing from My Pain'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-256748300065522892</id><published>2009-09-12T04:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T05:09:40.685-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Sidekick Speaks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqtzNdrdRtI/AAAAAAAABg0/UiisQigAfcU/s1600-h/DOS2008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqtzNdrdRtI/AAAAAAAABg0/UiisQigAfcU/s400/DOS2008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380520854966585042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She shakes the sheets free of the crumbs that fell from her pop tart and straightens her blanket. After checking to see if there were any missed calls or text messages on her sidekick, she plugs the charger in and settles in for the night. Not being able to sleep knowing those pop tart crumbs were still on the floor, she leaps up, grabs the broom and dust pan sweeping them away and returning to bed. Laying in the dark, she stares up at the ceiling and watches the different shapes form from the lights outside her window. The motion light on the building flashes from bright to dim and off again. She makes a rhythm in her mind that coincides with the timing of the lights. She can hear the TV speak from the other rooms: HGTV is on in one room and a commercial for Madagascar 2 in another. Drowning out those sounds, she shifts her weight to one side and tries to close her eyes. There in that moment a thought of him infiltrates her mind and robs her of precious sleep. So she reaches up to grab her sidekick and turns the volume down low, then returns to her comfort zone. Reason is taking a drink of water in the background and making way too much noise for her liking. She shifts her weight again and finds another comfortable spot. Closing her eyes for the second time she takes in a deep breath and says, "Good night Lord. Thank you for another day. In Jesus name, Amen." Peace has filled her body. Her mind is clear. Then she hears her sidekick speak..."New Message." the recorded voice says as it indicates someone has left her a message. Who could it be? She thought. Her heart began to race and pound ever so gentle against her breast. She hesitates a moment or two before picking it up. She so desperately wanted it to be him. Wanting some kind of communication with him before she fell asleep. A quick conversation that would put her mind at rest. "he hasn't forgotten about me" she thought, as she tosses the cover on her shoulder to the side and reaches for her sidekick. With one quick flip of her thumb she was one step closer to finding out. Blinking her eyes to get a clear view, she became even more excited to see what he had to say. Almost there, just scroll to the yellow envelope icon and press enter.......'Chiquithia fwd: love is only a few clicks away. Send this message to 10 ppl including me and watch something good happen tomorrow.' Her heart sank to the very bottom of her stomach as she replies back, "ditto babe." Plugging the cord back in the phone she returns the cover to her shoulder, takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes once again. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It wasn't him&lt;/span&gt;....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-256748300065522892?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/256748300065522892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=256748300065522892&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/256748300065522892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/256748300065522892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-sidekick-speaks.html' title='My Sidekick Speaks'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqtzNdrdRtI/AAAAAAAABg0/UiisQigAfcU/s72-c/DOS2008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4467513180732771565</id><published>2009-09-11T23:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T01:44:27.307-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I said "Bloody" with an English accent.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqtClzDqMVI/AAAAAAAABgk/VTP0alwpP9Y/s1600-h/BJD.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqtClzDqMVI/AAAAAAAABgk/VTP0alwpP9Y/s400/BJD.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380467396952338770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I feel like Bridget from "Bridget Jone's Diary" I am so caught up in this one guy and he could care freaking less about my feelings for him. I'm just waiting on the moment when I catch him in a 'compromising position' so to speak and the lady he is with calls me fat. Mean while &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kewan&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Qewan&lt;/span&gt; keeps asking my mother's BF about me, but is never around when I am back on the block. Interesting how that works eh? Lord have mercy....&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, today I found myself watching a documentary on 911. It was quite interesting....who am I kidding, I fell asleep on the bloody thing...om-gosh I just said "bloody" This cycle I am going through has got to stop. I'm speaking with an English accent in my mind now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqtCmSL17aI/AAAAAAAABgs/BlbixDkFq7w/s1600-h/911.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqtCmSL17aI/AAAAAAAABgs/BlbixDkFq7w/s400/911.1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380467405308161442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DON'T EVER FORGET 911&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4467513180732771565?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4467513180732771565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4467513180732771565&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4467513180732771565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4467513180732771565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-said-bloody-with-english-accent.html' title='I said &quot;Bloody&quot; with an English accent.'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqtClzDqMVI/AAAAAAAABgk/VTP0alwpP9Y/s72-c/BJD.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8806584265362383369</id><published>2009-09-10T17:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T17:58:54.262-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It was inside that I cried...again.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqmEklmWtmI/AAAAAAAABgc/m6wCC0b6fzg/s1600-h/rejection.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqmEklmWtmI/AAAAAAAABgc/m6wCC0b6fzg/s400/rejection.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379976993973909090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever wanted to say something to someone but was afraid to? I find myself wanting to spill my guts to him. I am so afraid to speak my true emotions. I find it so hard to say how I really feel. Not that it matters one way or another. He has made it very clear that he does not want to be with me the same way I want to be with him. So, with that bit of knowledge, I must grow up and put my big girl panties on deal with this rejection like a woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........To Be Continued&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-8806584265362383369?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8806584265362383369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8806584265362383369&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8806584265362383369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8806584265362383369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/it-was-inside-that-i-criedagain.html' title='It was inside that I cried...again.'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqmEklmWtmI/AAAAAAAABgc/m6wCC0b6fzg/s72-c/rejection.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-6997120776278412140</id><published>2009-09-09T22:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T17:33:11.545-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Makes me want to Scream!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sql-jQgFfvI/AAAAAAAABgU/tOZHSlLymSg/s1600-h/T-shirt.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sql-jQgFfvI/AAAAAAAABgU/tOZHSlLymSg/s400/T-shirt.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379970374060834546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want this so badly but I know it's wrong. I can't help the way I feel. Sometimes I ache in my heart so much, I want to scream!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-6997120776278412140?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/6997120776278412140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=6997120776278412140&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6997120776278412140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6997120776278412140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/makes-me-want-to-scream.html' title='Makes me want to Scream!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sql-jQgFfvI/AAAAAAAABgU/tOZHSlLymSg/s72-c/T-shirt.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-1881847961604493303</id><published>2009-09-08T22:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T17:28:09.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyday and Everynight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sql9X-fEfEI/AAAAAAAABgE/TKjLuWbTOKA/s1600-h/CP.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sql9X-fEfEI/AAAAAAAABgE/TKjLuWbTOKA/s400/CP.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379969080734547010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could spend the rest of my life chasing pavements. The question is, should I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-1881847961604493303?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/1881847961604493303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=1881847961604493303&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1881847961604493303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1881847961604493303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/everyday-and-everynight.html' title='Everyday and Everynight'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sql9X-fEfEI/AAAAAAAABgE/TKjLuWbTOKA/s72-c/CP.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-710175830018459429</id><published>2009-09-07T22:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T17:24:33.950-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Found Wanting...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sql8ckivuhI/AAAAAAAABf8/n1M-ds_61lE/s1600-h/wanting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 356px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sql8ckivuhI/AAAAAAAABf8/n1M-ds_61lE/s400/wanting.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379968060158360082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am lost and have been found wanting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-710175830018459429?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/710175830018459429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=710175830018459429&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/710175830018459429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/710175830018459429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/found-wanting.html' title='Found Wanting...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sql8ckivuhI/AAAAAAAABf8/n1M-ds_61lE/s72-c/wanting.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2413320830055543818</id><published>2009-09-06T14:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T14:38:24.138-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Labor Day Prayer @ FCC!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YEst5lD4-8E&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YEst5lD4-8E&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-2413320830055543818?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2413320830055543818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2413320830055543818&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2413320830055543818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2413320830055543818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/labor-day-prayer-fcc.html' title='Labor Day Prayer @ FCC!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4955073207073684672</id><published>2009-09-05T23:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T01:18:50.784-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm A Leaf Turner!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqNUD_cQHpI/AAAAAAAABf0/80m0qE0k8Dk/s1600-h/4c2dcfa1-6421-0384-22dc-08ca22caa287.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqNUD_cQHpI/AAAAAAAABf0/80m0qE0k8Dk/s400/4c2dcfa1-6421-0384-22dc-08ca22caa287.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378234807556775570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a...G1 Phone, I'd get played with everyday! LOL! Anyway, it's 15 more until my glorious Bday, and I can't wait. I feel it's going to be a special one for sure. As I sit here in the middle of my bed thinking about this year so far and all that I have been through; I can't help but be thankful for how far I have come. Things are not perfect by a long shot, but I am still standing! I say that with all the authority one can muster. I am sill standing haters and naysayers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know most people only make "Resolutions" around Christmas and New Years, but I vow this year on my bday to become less "predictable"...that's right, last night I was told I am "Too Predictable" I didn't really know how to take that until I thought about it. I am "Predictable" and that ish is about to come to a screeching halt! I am turning over a new leaf and sad to say I started with SBC. I think I scared him a little taste. Oh well, shouldn't have thought I was like all the rest. That's what you get! And for once in my life, I don't feel bad about one single thing I said. I meant every single word. Deal with it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Day New Me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4955073207073684672?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4955073207073684672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4955073207073684672&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4955073207073684672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4955073207073684672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/im-leaf-turner.html' title='I&apos;m A Leaf Turner!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqNUD_cQHpI/AAAAAAAABf0/80m0qE0k8Dk/s72-c/4c2dcfa1-6421-0384-22dc-08ca22caa287.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8966340779203914637</id><published>2009-09-04T23:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T01:30:32.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I gotta Warm Bed</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqIFL58FvII/AAAAAAAABfk/gY4oqrLMgKs/s1600-h/lust.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqIFL58FvII/AAAAAAAABfk/gY4oqrLMgKs/s400/lust.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377866607123348610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a roll coaster ride of emotions for me and I am glad I am finally winding down. I woke feeling really great until I sent a text message and got a nasty response back. I wanted to throw my cell phone out the window, then of course I came to my senses. I had plans to sleep until 2pm, but those plans came to a screeching halt when Mother called to remind me about her doctors appt....man I need anther me floating around here so I can get some sleep. Anyway, I knew then my day would be jammed packed once I got out of bed. It started with a smooth drive to PT on Kildare. It's so frigging hot on that part of town, I had to find solitude in the shade a block over. Thinking I had sought much needed refuge, up walks "Sal" and his beloved dog "Louise" This older yet handsome gentleman just walked up to my ventilated window and said: "You're a beauty. Can I take you out?" Sweet as he was, I wanted nothing to do with him or his slobbering dog. So I politely brushed him off and continued to rest. Once done with PT, Mother and I headed to the store to find Pie crust for the largely anticipated 'Peach Cobbler' she was going to make this afternoon. (Yummy) A final trip to the cell phone store and a quick shoe change at the house, I was off to pick up the nephew from college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was to be a very nice drive. Me and my Music burning up 290 on my way to River Forest, IL. However, I was so hurt and lonely from thinking about things I should have deleted long time ago, I could barely see the road. How many times have you been driving and all of a sudden your heart has a flash back of something that hurts so bad it stings?...if you have never felt this way then good for you! I found myself sobbing like a child who lost their favorite toy. I was hurting. That's when I popped in my Rick Pino CD and let God work that thing out. By the time I reached my destination, I was feeling pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I returned home from the "Pick Up" as he so affectionately called it, I changed for the celebration dinner. Friday's was the spot of choice and I was so ready for some Jack Daniel's Chicken and Shrimp on my platter. When we arrived I thought I saw someone I have been missing as of late-but it was not him. I was having some sort of De'ja Vu I suppose. I did like 3 double takes and on the final take it hit me...I'm losing it! My emotions hit the roof once again and by this time I was ready to eat this feeling smooth away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner, presents and photo opts, we headed home. Knowing I would have to be the one to drive the young folks back to school, I made a call..or rather a text message to have someone accompany me for the long ride. Well, they could not come and I felt like hiding under a rock. By the time I got to the house, I made the one connection I knew wouldn't let me down. Good ole Noah V to the rescue. So with piled youngster and several bags, we hit the open road. One pit stop to 7eleven later...I was laughing, singing and dancing like my old self again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been one long and mind bending day. All I want to do now is curl up in my warm bed with some soothing chai tea and a good movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-8966340779203914637?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8966340779203914637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8966340779203914637&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8966340779203914637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8966340779203914637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-gotta-warm-bed.html' title='I gotta Warm Bed'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqIFL58FvII/AAAAAAAABfk/gY4oqrLMgKs/s72-c/lust.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2817319447374791329</id><published>2009-09-03T21:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T22:01:26.192-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sentimental Moody Mood of Moods</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqCC8UqQEBI/AAAAAAAABfc/WWHUJ9MtSW8/s1600-h/HEAVENSMILES.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 176px; height: 124px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqCC8UqQEBI/AAAAAAAABfc/WWHUJ9MtSW8/s400/HEAVENSMILES.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377441927930056722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was and still is my youngest nephews &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;BDay&lt;/span&gt;...he turned 9. We had a blast when I picked him up from school. Mother and I picked him up and then it was off to the mall for some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bday&lt;/span&gt; shopping! I love shopping. I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hoping&lt;/span&gt; to see a friend of mine today, but to no avail. (Sentimental Moody Mood of Moods #1) I had something to give him, then I took it back and got a refund. Why did I do that one might ask; well I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;felt&lt;/span&gt; dumb when I bought it in the first place-so returning it felt like the right thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After shopping and laughing out loud with the family, we were hungry and needed some good foodie foods. I wanted tacos. She wanted Chicken and he wanted to eat...period! We went to Dave n Busters, too crowed. We swung by ESPN Zone, to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;noisy&lt;/span&gt;. Then the young one suggested Chicago chicken and Waffles...great choice I might add. Then I find out I WON'T be seeing my friend today and that's when (Sentimental Moody Mood of Moods #2) showed it's face yet again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fed, home now and thirsty (for some strange reason) I washed the dishes, threw in a load and changed the sheets on my bed. I also, pulled out the vacuum and gave the floors "what for" and all of a sudden my bed seem bigger and emptier then normal. I am not sure why the clear vision of a big lonely bed popped in my head, but it did and I felt (Sentimental Moody Mood of Moods #3) creep up and sucker punch me in the face. That &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;varmint&lt;/span&gt; got me while I had my back turned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it's 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt; to 10 and I am turning in early. Got some dreaming to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-2817319447374791329?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2817319447374791329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2817319447374791329&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2817319447374791329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2817319447374791329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/sentimental-moody-mood-of-moods.html' title='Sentimental Moody Mood of Moods'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SqCC8UqQEBI/AAAAAAAABfc/WWHUJ9MtSW8/s72-c/HEAVENSMILES.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3837652373083029385</id><published>2009-09-02T22:30:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T22:37:26.069-05:00</updated><title type='text'>That thing you do...</title><content type='html'>It has been a while since I have put nails to keypad and blessed this site with one of my famous rants and raves. I miss this. I don't even now why I stopped in the first place. I guess it was because I hurt someone with my thoughts and that simply didn't sit right with me. Or maybe it was because I found blogging to be a bit pretentious and needed a change. Whatever the case maybe, I am back and I have a crap load of s**t to get off my chest!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sp85ri6Q5qI/AAAAAAAABe0/5sIuYe6_lAI/s1600-h/pinkdiva.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sp85ri6Q5qI/AAAAAAAABe0/5sIuYe6_lAI/s400/pinkdiva.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377079900372002466" 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/14413585-3837652373083029385?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3837652373083029385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3837652373083029385&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3837652373083029385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3837652373083029385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/09/that-thing-you-do.html' title='That thing you do...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/Sp85ri6Q5qI/AAAAAAAABe0/5sIuYe6_lAI/s72-c/pinkdiva.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-9123525665785638132</id><published>2009-03-12T22:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T22:53:03.227-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brand New</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SbnYf8Hr7VI/AAAAAAAABdQ/2J6Vbx1iBtM/s1600-h/diamondslips.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 339px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SbnYf8Hr7VI/AAAAAAAABdQ/2J6Vbx1iBtM/s400/diamondslips.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312515278686121298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been very very busy these past fews months, and I must thank god for that. I have thrown myself completely into the ministry of God and I am loving it! Cross College, my internship and JON are taking all of my time, however, that is a good thing. Keeps me busy and keeps my mind on other things besides my problems. I am tired now so I will end this little blog by saying, Glory to God!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-9123525665785638132?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/9123525665785638132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=9123525665785638132&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/9123525665785638132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/9123525665785638132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/03/brand-new.html' title='Brand New'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SbnYf8Hr7VI/AAAAAAAABdQ/2J6Vbx1iBtM/s72-c/diamondslips.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2303429944146477669</id><published>2009-01-10T10:22:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T10:34:22.642-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HE's a (super)natural Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SWjMojee3QI/AAAAAAAABcM/OQ5oaYqWs0M/s1600-h/thecross.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SWjMojee3QI/AAAAAAAABcM/OQ5oaYqWs0M/s400/thecross.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289702759436573954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I didn't know you were married..." she said as she looked down at my&lt;br /&gt;hand and took it up with hers. Looking at my ring a bit closer she said,&lt;br /&gt;"Does he come to church? I can't remember seeing him with you." I said,&lt;br /&gt;"Yes HE does. Matter of fact HE beats me here. In fact HE's here before&lt;br /&gt;the Dawn. HE never misses a day of Church. HE's just that Faithful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow" she said with an unbelieving tone. "What does he look like? Have I&lt;br /&gt;seen him before? Tell me about him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked deep into her eyes and said with an absolute tone, "I'm sure&lt;br /&gt;have. HE is always around. HE covers all space at once. HE is as bright&lt;br /&gt;as a morning star. HE has the softest voice you ever heard and HE is as&lt;br /&gt;tall as the ceiling. HIS hands are so big, they can hold the world.  And&lt;br /&gt;HE has a smile that lets me know everythings going to be alright. HE&lt;br /&gt;listens to every word I say and wipes away every one of my tears. Not&lt;br /&gt;only does HE Love me, but HE Loves all my Friends and Family too. HE&lt;br /&gt;comforts me when I am afraid or lonely. And when I am hurt HE rushes to&lt;br /&gt;come see about me. And when my heart is broken, HE takes the pieces and&lt;br /&gt;puts it back together again. You know HE loved me first. In fact HE knew&lt;br /&gt;me before I was concieved. HE walks with me and HE goes before me to&lt;br /&gt;make sure there is no danger in my path. I can talk to HIM about&lt;br /&gt;everything, we have no secrets. And when I told HIM about the things I&lt;br /&gt;used to do in my past, not only did HE forgive me for them, but HE&lt;br /&gt;forgot about them as well. HE is the richest man in the World, and HE&lt;br /&gt;gives me the deepest desires of my heart. I mean all I have to do is ask&lt;br /&gt;HIM and HE gives it to me. And the things I don't need...the things that&lt;br /&gt;are not good for me, HE takes away the desire to even want those things.&lt;br /&gt;HE is my Bestfriend...my all and all. I don't know what I would do&lt;br /&gt;without HIM by my side. HE rescued me from a Life of Sin. HE is my Hero.&lt;br /&gt;HE is all the Man I need. I couldn't ask for a better Man."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking somewhat baffled and bewildered by what I said she looked at me&lt;br /&gt;and said, "He sounds to good to be true."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Does HE? How is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Come on now, there is no man on this Earth that can do all the things&lt;br /&gt;you spoke of. And there is no man on this Earth that can be all the&lt;br /&gt;things you said he is to you. I have yet to find a man like that on this&lt;br /&gt;Earth."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took my coat off and carefully placed it on the back of my seat.  Then&lt;br /&gt;fixed my skirt in preparation to take my seat. I paused for a moment,&lt;br /&gt;then I looked up at her with a smile and said, "That's because HE is not&lt;br /&gt;of this Earth. HE is Beyond it. HE...is Jesus Christ. Remember HIM&lt;br /&gt;now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until We Read Again...&lt;br /&gt;Deirdre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-2303429944146477669?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2303429944146477669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2303429944146477669&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2303429944146477669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2303429944146477669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2009/01/hes-supernatural-man.html' title='HE&apos;s a (super)natural Man'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SWjMojee3QI/AAAAAAAABcM/OQ5oaYqWs0M/s72-c/thecross.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-6843980000862771281</id><published>2008-12-31T15:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T15:02:00.344-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What A Year...</title><content type='html'>...glad it's over!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SVvaTdqQSsI/AAAAAAAABbM/FtzP-5TNviY/s1600-h/NewYear123.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SVvaTdqQSsI/AAAAAAAABbM/FtzP-5TNviY/s400/NewYear123.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286058615563635394" 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/14413585-6843980000862771281?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/6843980000862771281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=6843980000862771281&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6843980000862771281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6843980000862771281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-year.html' title='What A Year...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SVvaTdqQSsI/AAAAAAAABbM/FtzP-5TNviY/s72-c/NewYear123.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-7086211441878742127</id><published>2008-11-29T16:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T16:56:00.455-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Finally Maried The Love of My Life!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://lc.fdots.com/cc/lc/18/183e8b3ef6e62b9accf5f53786f7ff11.jpg" border="0" alt="MyHotComments.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://lc.fdots.com/cc/lc/8f/8ffc796cd1fb244d2334e1c2c264fb35.jpg" border="0" alt="MyHotComments.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://lc.fdots.com/cc/lc/64/64279613f87ef5791aa64074183d7095.png" border="0" alt="MyHotComments.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanna See A Picture of HIM?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vNC5icC5ibG9nc3BvdC5jb20vX2J4MTA4dGxmalVJL1NUSEdCbm5XMWFJL0FBQUFBQUFBQkZFLy1UbFJCSUVJSGlBL3MxNjAwLWgvUGFzc2lvbl9vZl9DaHJpc3QuanBn"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STHGBnnW1aI/AAAAAAAABFE/-TlRBIEIHiA/s400/Passion_of_Christ.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274214369743787426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do You Know HIM?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-7086211441878742127?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/7086211441878742127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=7086211441878742127&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7086211441878742127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7086211441878742127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-finally-maried-love-of-my-life.html' title='I Finally Maried The Love of My Life!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STHGBnnW1aI/AAAAAAAABFE/-TlRBIEIHiA/s72-c/Passion_of_Christ.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3406074480822573420</id><published>2008-11-29T15:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T15:16:46.828-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Did I Say I Love Shoes!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvO4sH6BI/AAAAAAAABE8/Xc_AqY3ttIU/s1600-h/suede-bright.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274189308898043922" style="WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 324px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvO4sH6BI/AAAAAAAABE8/Xc_AqY3ttIU/s400/suede-bright.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvJVNjvAI/AAAAAAAABE0/7nhl4Y0Fsyw/s1600-h/stacey+adams.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274189213475257346" style="WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvJVNjvAI/AAAAAAAABE0/7nhl4Y0Fsyw/s400/stacey+adams.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvJANUI8I/AAAAAAAABEk/lvj8JAfxrBQ/s1600-h/zanotti.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274189207837090754" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvJANUI8I/AAAAAAAABEk/lvj8JAfxrBQ/s400/zanotti.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvI7q3DSI/AAAAAAAABEc/CAuwyl25CUM/s1600-h/valecia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274189206618836258" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvI7q3DSI/AAAAAAAABEc/CAuwyl25CUM/s400/valecia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvI0fyzTI/AAAAAAAABEU/2CuUmYrm4uw/s1600-h/stuart+wietzman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274189204693372210" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvI0fyzTI/AAAAAAAABEU/2CuUmYrm4uw/s400/stuart+wietzman.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGu1Yn6PkI/AAAAAAAABEM/9K1rvm2Vwd0/s1600-h/steve+maddon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188870793707074" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGu1Yn6PkI/AAAAAAAABEM/9K1rvm2Vwd0/s400/steve+maddon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGu1dKSPwI/AAAAAAAABEE/1xww0nQN3CY/s1600-h/steve+madden+richci.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188872011628290" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGu1dKSPwI/AAAAAAAABEE/1xww0nQN3CY/s400/steve+madden+richci.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGu1IYXQKI/AAAAAAAABD8/uyxEh2_Uh70/s1600-h/sergio+rossi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188866433532066" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGu1IYXQKI/AAAAAAAABD8/uyxEh2_Uh70/s400/sergio+rossi.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGu09RNIwI/AAAAAAAABD0/DfpPSTC7C6w/s1600-h/Roccawear.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188863450718978" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGu09RNIwI/AAAAAAAABD0/DfpPSTC7C6w/s400/Roccawear.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGu0niivlI/AAAAAAAABDs/AAosVz0z6wQ/s1600-h/parisshoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188857617858130" style="WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGu0niivlI/AAAAAAAABDs/AAosVz0z6wQ/s400/parisshoes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGumBu6a4I/AAAAAAAABDk/h8H9dR9rWT4/s1600-h/panE.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188606951025538" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGumBu6a4I/AAAAAAAABDk/h8H9dR9rWT4/s400/panE.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGulz1zcuI/AAAAAAAABDc/63265hzAydM/s1600-h/naughty+monkey3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188603221832418" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGulz1zcuI/AAAAAAAABDc/63265hzAydM/s400/naughty+monkey3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGul67MTtI/AAAAAAAABDU/5ivWTGbvZN0/s1600-h/naughty+monkey2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188605123481298" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGul67MTtI/AAAAAAAABDU/5ivWTGbvZN0/s400/naughty+monkey2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGul7wYyXI/AAAAAAAABDM/-JeVsLakPDc/s1600-h/Moschino.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188605346597234" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGul7wYyXI/AAAAAAAABDM/-JeVsLakPDc/s400/Moschino.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuluVIkkI/AAAAAAAABDE/LtBWRX6ucaw/s1600-h/kenneth+cole+NY.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188601742627394" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuluVIkkI/AAAAAAAABDE/LtBWRX6ucaw/s400/kenneth+cole+NY.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuZXV0KyI/AAAAAAAABC8/CtjJrdec9-8/s1600-h/guess.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188389413038882" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuZXV0KyI/AAAAAAAABC8/CtjJrdec9-8/s400/guess.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuZbTo04I/AAAAAAAABC0/BC_oDvjLAuc/s1600-h/gianfranco+ferre.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188390477648770" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuZbTo04I/AAAAAAAABC0/BC_oDvjLAuc/s400/gianfranco+ferre.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuY0HiXzI/AAAAAAAABCs/SyBM0pS6F8U/s1600-h/choice1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188379957911346" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuY0HiXzI/AAAAAAAABCs/SyBM0pS6F8U/s400/choice1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuYq5fW3I/AAAAAAAABCk/zZll1nszRBU/s1600-h/betsy+johnson+cayden.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188377483074418" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuYq5fW3I/AAAAAAAABCk/zZll1nszRBU/s400/betsy+johnson+cayden.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuYlXbUfI/AAAAAAAABCc/9yK1btaxNGo/s1600-h/badgley+mischka.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188375998026226" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuYlXbUfI/AAAAAAAABCc/9yK1btaxNGo/s400/badgley+mischka.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuL5Rd5cI/AAAAAAAABCU/tQMSSA_Uav4/s1600-h/alexander+mcqueen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274188158003439042" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGuL5Rd5cI/AAAAAAAABCU/tQMSSA_Uav4/s400/alexander+mcqueen.jpg" 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/14413585-3406074480822573420?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3406074480822573420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3406074480822573420&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3406074480822573420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3406074480822573420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/11/did-i-say-i-love-shoes.html' title='Did I Say I Love Shoes!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/STGvO4sH6BI/AAAAAAAABE8/Xc_AqY3ttIU/s72-c/suede-bright.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8919249488143545569</id><published>2008-11-07T23:41:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T00:34:18.072-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Her sidekick speaks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SRUwEXRl3fI/AAAAAAAABA8/is5COjolrDo/s1600-h/sleep.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266168190805073394" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 392px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SRUwEXRl3fI/AAAAAAAABA8/is5COjolrDo/s400/sleep.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SRUvYOglPlI/AAAAAAAABA0/VStEVWYsE2k/s1600-h/temper_tantrum.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She shakes the sheets free of the crumbs that fell from her pop tart and straightens her blanket. After checking to see if there were any missed calls or text messages on her sidekick, she plugs the charger in and settles in for the night. Not being able to sleep knowing those pop tart crumbs were still on the floor, she leaps up, grabs the broom and dust pan sweeping them away and returning to bed. Laying in the dark living room she stares up at the ceiling and watches the different shapes form from the lights outside her window. The motion light on the building flashes from bright to dim and off again. She makes a rhythm in her mind that coincides with the timing of the lights. She can hear the TV speak from the other rooms: HGTV is on in one room and a commercial for Madagascar 2 in another. Drowning out those sounds she shifts her weight to one side and tries to close her eyes. There in that moment a thought of him infiltrates her mind and robs her of precious sleep. So she reaches up to grab her sidekick and turns the volume down low, then returns to her comfort zone. Reason is taking a drink of water in the background and making way too much noise for her liking. She shifts her weight again and finds another comfortable spot. Closing her eyes for the second time she takes in a deep breath and says, "Good night Lord. Thank you for another day. In Jesus name, Amen." Peace has filled her body. Her mind is clear. Then she hears her sidekick speak..."New Message." the recorded voice says as it indicates someone has left you a message. Who could it be? She thought. Her heart began to race and pound ever so gentle against her breast. She hesitates a moment or two before picking it up. She so desperately wanted it to be him. Wanting some kind of communication with him before she fell asleep. A quick conversation that would put her mind at rest. "he hasn't forgotten about me" she thought, as she tosses the cover on her shoulder to the side and reaches for her sidekick. With one quick flip of her thumb she was one step closer to finding out. Blinking her eyes to get a clear view, she became even more excited to see what he had to say. almost there, just scroll to the yellow envelope icon and press enter.......'Chiquithia fwd: love is only a few clicks away. Send this message to 10 ppl including me and watch something good happen tomorrow.' Her heart sank to the very bottom of her stomach as she replies back, "ditto babe." Plugging the cord back in the phone she returns the cover to her shoulder, takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes once again. It wasn't him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/14413585-8919249488143545569?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8919249488143545569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8919249488143545569&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8919249488143545569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8919249488143545569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/11/her-sidekick-speaks.html' title='Her sidekick speaks'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SRUwEXRl3fI/AAAAAAAABA8/is5COjolrDo/s72-c/sleep.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2970878055285093396</id><published>2008-10-18T13:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T14:02:20.055-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Doo</title><content type='html'>I Absolutely Adore My New Hairstyle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPow76n42mI/AAAAAAAAA_g/CT2gWvvJ6-U/s1600-h/IMG00055-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258569320815450722" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPow76n42mI/AAAAAAAAA_g/CT2gWvvJ6-U/s400/IMG00055-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPoxXGFASgI/AAAAAAAAA_4/rFzQcrMin0c/s1600-h/IMG00057.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258569787746830850" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPoxXGFASgI/AAAAAAAAA_4/rFzQcrMin0c/s400/IMG00057.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPoxNxeiD3I/AAAAAAAAA_w/PxA4coA8JtM/s1600-h/IMG00061.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258569627597934450" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPoxNxeiD3I/AAAAAAAAA_w/PxA4coA8JtM/s400/IMG00061.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPoxIoqrFpI/AAAAAAAAA_o/Qbzsoaa-CVc/s1600-h/IMG00056-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258569539333592722" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPoxIoqrFpI/AAAAAAAAA_o/Qbzsoaa-CVc/s400/IMG00056-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPoxXVlq2cI/AAAAAAAABAA/4IM-mcDeVfU/s1600-h/IMG00058.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258569791910369730" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPoxXVlq2cI/AAAAAAAABAA/4IM-mcDeVfU/s400/IMG00058.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/14413585-2970878055285093396?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2970878055285093396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2970878055285093396&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2970878055285093396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2970878055285093396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-new-doo.html' title='My New Doo'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SPow76n42mI/AAAAAAAAA_g/CT2gWvvJ6-U/s72-c/IMG00055-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3653322976185959275</id><published>2008-10-13T22:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T22:28:13.055-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Unfortunate</title><content type='html'>I honestly thought that I knew him better then I do. I mean we have know one another for quite some time. Since 2001 to be exact. Yet I don't know him...at all. Or maybe I met the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;"Representative"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; when I met him. I don't know why that thought just popped in my head, but I had to write it down. Interesting....Ummmgh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-3653322976185959275?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3653322976185959275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3653322976185959275&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3653322976185959275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3653322976185959275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-unfortunate.html' title='It&apos;s Unfortunate'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2030815114169921224</id><published>2008-10-08T09:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T09:47:04.337-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's My Fault</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SOzHLyfpEQI/AAAAAAAAA8o/sQDMTEzmxMM/s1600-h/confused.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SOzHLyfpEQI/AAAAAAAAA8o/sQDMTEzmxMM/s400/confused.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254793870581502210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have come to the realization that the things that happen to me concerning men are all my fault. That's right the same way I take full responsibility for my actions when it comes to my relationship with Christ Jesus, I take with my relationships with men. They can and will only do what &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; allow.&lt;br /&gt;If I allow them to talk to me any kind of way, I can't then get upset when they talk to me any kind of way. If I allow them to treat me any kind of way, I can't then get upset when they treat me any kind of way. If I allow them to come and go whenever they please, I can't then get upset when they come and go as they please.&lt;br /&gt;This was all made clear to me about 30 min ago, when this guy that I can't seem to let go of &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;(but am now seriously contemplating switching gears)&lt;/span&gt; called me and literally cursed me out. For no reason might I add. I simply called him to ask a question concerning my computer and he began to use some very unsavory language against me. Now in my mind I was like hang up Dee, but I didn't &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;(see right there, I allowed him to curse at me)&lt;/span&gt; I was trying to explain the reason for my earlier text message, and he started cursing more and telling me not to patronize him. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;WT Flip!&lt;/span&gt; I was not patronizing you!!! Anyway, we got disconnected and I was left with my mouth wide open. But it doesn't end there.&lt;br /&gt;Then he calls me right back and I say hello. He says some more unsavory things and then says &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"goodbye to you"&lt;/span&gt; For a split second I was so enraged that if I saw him I probably would have kicked his behind. But then it dawned on me. He would not have been able to talk to me like that, if I had not &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;ALLOWED&lt;/span&gt; him to. I was right.&lt;br /&gt;As I played the whole thing back in my head, I believe he was with someone and he was being a big ole jerk in front of that person and I was &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Collateral Damage&lt;/span&gt;. Whatever the case may be. I have decided that when it comes to him, I think it is best I leave it alone. That way I will not have to blog about this type of situation again...at least not where he is concern.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-2030815114169921224?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2030815114169921224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2030815114169921224&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2030815114169921224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2030815114169921224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-my-fault.html' title='It&apos;s My Fault'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SOzHLyfpEQI/AAAAAAAAA8o/sQDMTEzmxMM/s72-c/confused.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2038033365138909451</id><published>2008-09-26T19:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T19:55:44.451-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Quit! (I hurt so bad right now...)</title><content type='html'>&amp;quot;You gave her 400.00 dollars to pay some credit card debt she had, but &lt;br&gt;the car you co-signed for is behind 2 months Momma!!&amp;quot;&lt;br&gt;I am so frustrated right now I want to scream. Nothing is going good for &lt;br&gt;me right now. I am having Panic Attacks again and everything. I am under &lt;br&gt;so much stress right it is not funny and I have no one to talk to but &lt;br&gt;the Lord, and I haven&amp;#39;t even been doing that lately. I feel so lost and &lt;br&gt;confused and lonely and hurt and by myself. I can&amp;#39;t take another thing I &lt;br&gt;swear.&lt;br&gt;I didn&amp;#39;t even ask her to co-sign for my car. I would have just waited, &lt;br&gt;but she said &amp;quot;no I want to help you.&amp;quot; She has not helped me yet. That&amp;#39;s &lt;br&gt;what a co-signer is for...to help in your time of need. I mean that&amp;#39;s &lt;br&gt;what I thought. I was paying every car note and maintaining my car just &lt;br&gt;fine until I lost my job. And even then I was paying the note with my &lt;br&gt;unemplyment checks. I never asked her for help and the minute I do she &lt;br&gt;turns death ears on me. God I&amp;#39;m so hurt. I can&amp;#39;t even breathe. I feel &lt;br&gt;like I am dying inside.&lt;br&gt;And even if I tried to do things on my own, I wouldn&amp;#39;t have anyone to &lt;br&gt;ask for help in the first place. I don&amp;#39;t even know what I believe &lt;br&gt;anymore I truly don&amp;#39;t. I keep telling myself that this overload of pain &lt;br&gt;and suffering is not from my past, I don&amp;#39;t know what I know anymore...I &lt;br&gt;swear I don&amp;#39;t.&lt;br&gt;I&amp;#39;m sitting in my car crying my eyes out waiting to breathe again.&lt;p&gt;*No Picture*&lt;br&gt;~Deirdre Edwina~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-2038033365138909451?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2038033365138909451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2038033365138909451&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2038033365138909451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2038033365138909451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-quit-i-hurt-so-bad-right-now.html' title='I Quit! (I hurt so bad right now...)'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-2208239942524101626</id><published>2008-09-20T12:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T00:07:10.813-05:00</updated><title type='text'>God's Gift is the PRESENT!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i101.photobucket.com/albums/m58/air2dream/birthday/62.gif" title="MySpace Comment Codes" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; To Me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right today is my Birthday. I have to say I am most excited about this particular Birthday, because I have been through so much in the past year and a half, that I earned the right to Celebrate!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sit here and type this I feel the tears welling up in my eyes, my heart is quaking and my lips begin to quiver. As I think back on the pain, the rejection, the miss understandings and the all around hurt of 2006, I can't believe I made it through. Then when 2007 didn't get much better, I thought I was going to die! But My Father said "NO!" He gave me so much Strength, Courage and Wisdom to make it to 2008 and my Heart Rejoices! Without the Lord I don't know where I would be right now. Except for God's Grace I could be lost and depressed and all sorts of things. But God loved me enough to Carry me through and I thank Him for that. 36....and I still Look Good! How many can say that? (wink)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i101.photobucket.com/albums/m58/air2dream/birthday/62.gif" title="MySpace Comment Codes" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; To Me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-2208239942524101626?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/2208239942524101626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=2208239942524101626&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2208239942524101626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/2208239942524101626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/09/gods-gift-is-present.html' title='God&apos;s Gift is the PRESENT!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i101.photobucket.com/albums/m58/air2dream/birthday/th_62.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-5148323600389395034</id><published>2008-09-15T23:52:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T00:40:55.537-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Totally Unexpected Daydream</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SM9DvmnYrrI/AAAAAAAAA7o/TllFXbVBjZ4/s1600-h/fear.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246486576008572594" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SM9DvmnYrrI/AAAAAAAAA7o/TllFXbVBjZ4/s400/fear.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My dreams are so vivid at times, that once I am wake up I like to blog them so I don't forget. I didn't blog nor did I write this one down at first because I was a bit taken a back by the dream. This Dream really threw me for a loop and I didn't know what to make of it at first. Most times when I dream it is about Falling down or something or some serial murderer like Jason or somebody is trying to kill me. Well this time one of my ex-sex partners &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(because he was mosdefntly not my boyfriend)&lt;/span&gt; was trying to shoot me! Can you believe that? I was so scared when I woke up that I txted him and when he didn't txt me back&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt; (which is normal)&lt;/span&gt; I pulled the covers over my eyes and began to Pray.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why was he of all people trying to kill me? What was this dream really trying to tell me? Was this a warning from God to leave him alone? I was so confused. I don't know but our &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"relationship"&lt;/span&gt; is somewhat volatile in the aspect that he will use the word&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt; "we"&lt;/span&gt; and I will get all excited and next thing I know it's back to &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"me"&lt;/span&gt; and my heart is the one that ends up broken. Anyway, I tried to leave him alone and I am even trying to be his &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"friend"&lt;/span&gt; but both were and still are &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"hard to do"&lt;/span&gt; Sometimes I believe he does not want to be my friend and other times I think that he can't be anything else. It's the most &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"interesting"&lt;/span&gt; situation I have ever been in that's for sure. So you can imagine my thoughts when I dreamt this dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I was coming out of my apartment building and I saw a black car on the corner with it's lights on in the inside of the car. It looked like him, but I thought to myself that can't be him, he is at home with his family. It was the wee hours of the morning so naturally I thought he was with his family. Anyway, I walked slowly to the gate that separates our building from the sidewalk and went to open it. The car light goes out on the inside and I close the gate. I wanted to see what this car was doing before I stepped outside. Now mind you I don't even know what I'm doing up or outside at this time. The car begins to move closer to where I was standing and I felt a chill come over me. As the car approached the gate doorway, I could see it was him and I calmed down and smiled at him as if to say "hey babe" He stopped the car in the middle of the street and next thing I see is a gun pointing at me from the window. I turned and ran back to the front door and rang the bell frantically for someone to let me in. He fired one shot and it hit the glass door and I started to scream. Then I tried to reach my arm inside the door to open it when I heard the next shot. This time it hit the light on the wall and a piece of glass cut my face. By this time I was hysterical. My oldest nephew came to open the door and that's when I woke up. Wild huh? I know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Out of all the men I ever been with or was in a relationship with I would have never thought in a million years&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt; (even in a dream)&lt;/span&gt; that he would try to hurt me...let alone try to kill me. Will I tell him about my dream, probably not. He will just make some lame joke about it and that just might piss me off, so I think I will leave this one alone....for now.&lt;/div&gt;&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/14413585-5148323600389395034?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/5148323600389395034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=5148323600389395034&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5148323600389395034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5148323600389395034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/09/totally-unexpected-daydream.html' title='Totally Unexpected Daydream'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SM9DvmnYrrI/AAAAAAAAA7o/TllFXbVBjZ4/s72-c/fear.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-1547632321000479074</id><published>2008-09-08T23:59:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T02:00:30.345-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He Loves Me Still...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMYd_JyD55I/AAAAAAAAA54/TS_SZ36YYHg/s1600-h/walking.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243911786914375570" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMYd_JyD55I/AAAAAAAAA54/TS_SZ36YYHg/s400/walking.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;When I wake up in the morning He's there to greet me with the sun. And when I lay my head down to sleep He tucks me in and wraps me with the warm of the Moon. When I am sad He takes the hurt away with just one touch and when I am happy He rejoices with me. Today He closed my car door for me with the wind. And washed my face with the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I am lonely He comforts me with His blanket of Love. And when I am lost He will look for me and bring me back safe and sound. When I feel like I can't go on, He goes before me just to work things when I get there. Today I felt like no one cared and He sang me a song...it went something like: Sometimes you/have to encourage yourself/Sometimes you/have to speak victory during the test/and no matter how you feel/speak a word and you will be healed/speak over yourself/encourge yourself/in my name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I am hungry He feeds me a full course meal complete with Meat, Bread and a full glass of cool Water. And one time a long time ago when I was dirty from playing in unclean places, He washed me white as snow. Everyday He looks at me like He is looking at me for the first time. That's because He makes me feel brand new every single day. When I look in the mirror I see His face...He never leaves my side. Today He kept me safe from all hurt harm and danger by covering me with His Blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Man loves me so much. He told me so in a Love Letter once. He told me that He would die for me, and He did. He told me He would never leave me and He never has. He told me He would carry ALL my problems on His shoulders...He's so strong. He told me not to worry about anything,that He would take care of ALL my needs. He is so protective of me. He watches over me all the time. He knows my every move and He even makes moves for me...I like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here, read what He wrote me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;To My Precious &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I knew even before I created the earth that you would accept My love for you, and that you would seek to know Me thus…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the beginning I created the heavens and the earth. Then at the right time and in the right place I created you. I created your inner most being, I created every part of you, I knit you together in your mother's womb. You were carefully and wonderfully made; my works are wonderful, and you &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt; are my work. My eyes saw your unformed body. All the days planned for you were written in my book before one of them came to be. How precious are my thoughts for you, How great is the number of them! If you were to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen to me, &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt;; I created you and have cared for you since before you were born. I will be your God throughout your lifetime, until your hair is white with age. I made you, and I will care for you. I will carry you along and save you. I will carry you in my arms, holding you close to my heart. For I know the plans that I have for you plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt; there are some times of suffering in your life. But the temporary suffering of this life does not compare to the glory that shall be revealed in you. Know this that I am with you and I will help you. Your help comes from me, I am the God who created the heavens and the earth, and the one who created you. I will never leave you, I will never reject you. When your parents fail you I will pick you up, hold you close, and adopt you. Nothing can ever separate you from my love for you. When you are in trouble and distress my love is with you. When you are persecuted my love is with you. When you are hungry and cold and naked my love is with you, I am always with you. When you are in danger and threatened with death my love is with you, I will be with you forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt; know that nothing can separate you from my love, no matter how high you go, no matter how deep you sink, nothing in life and not even death can separate you from Me, and My love for you. No demon or any other power in hell can separate you from my love. My love for you is revealed through Christ Jesus your Lord. In all things and every situation you will have victory, you will conquer, because the victory of Christ Jesus is your victory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt;, I the LORD, who created you and formed you, says: Do not be afraid, for I have purchased you. I have called you by name; you are mine. When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, they will not over flow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned. I command you to be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid; do not be dismayed, for I, the LORD your God will be with you everywhere you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt;, know that everything will work together for your good, because you love me. You have been called according to my purpose. For I knew you before you were born and I predestined you to be conformed to the likeness of my Son, Jesus Christ. This is your destiny, and this is your purpose, that you become one with my Son Jesus, and thus one with me. I created you in my image so that you and I can express love to each other. The most intimate relationship you can have is with me because you and I are becoming one. You and your brothers and sisters that believe in me are becoming one with Jesus, and thus one with me. You in me, and me in you, together, unified by my love for you. You were designed for this purpose, nothing else will ever satisfy your deepest needs, your deepest desires, only I can. Because you seek to know me I satisfy your heart with love, joy, and peace that only I can give you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt; if you should forget me, and enter into sin, and not turn back to Me on your own then I will punish you. Because your sin will separate you from feeling My presence, and My influence, and I want you to return to your first love, the One who loves you. I the Lord discipline those I love, and I punish everyone who I accept as my child. Just as a good Father disciplines His children to turn them away from a dangerous path, so I shall discipline you for your good, that you may share in My holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt;, When you confess your sins, I am faithful and just and will forgive you of your sins and cleanse you from all unrighteousness. In repentance and resting in Me is your salvation, in quietness and trusting Me is your strength. I will create in you a clean heart and renew a right spirit within you. I will not send you away from My presence, and I will not take My Holy Spirit from you. I will restore again the joy of your salvation, and make you willing to obey Me. Then you will teach My ways to sinners, and they will return to Me also. Humble yourself, therefore, under My mighty hand, that I may lift you up at the right time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt; do not forget all my benefits, I forgive all your sins and heal all your diseases, I rescue your life from the pit of destruction and crown you with love and compassion. I satisfy your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagles. I The LORD work righteousness and justice for all the oppressed; I The LORD am compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. I will not always accuse, nor will I harbor my anger forever; I do not treat you as your sins deserve or repay you according to your iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is My love for you because you fear Me; as far as the east is from the west, so far have I removed your transgressions from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt;, call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know. Always pray to Me about your every concern, pray from your mouth and pray from your heart, I hear every thought that you think. Everything that you care about, I care about also because it concerns you. Cast all your cares and anxiety on Me because I love you. Trust in Me, the LORD YOUR GOD, with all your heart, do not depend on your own understanding; In everything acknowledge Me, And I will direct your paths. Do not worry about anything, but in everything big or small, by prayer, with thanksgiving, present your requests to Me, the Most High God. And I will give you My peace in your heart, peace that is beyond all human understanding, and it will guard your heart and your mind in Christ Jesus. Always be joyful. Keep on praying always. No matter what happens, always be thankful, for this is My will for you because you belong to Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt;, Study My Book of law and truth, the Holy Bible, do not let My words depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. My words are Spirit and they are Life. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you will, and it will be given you. For the word of God is living and powerful. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. The most important thing you will ever own is your Bible because it gives you knowledge of Me, The Most High God. It makes the poor rich, it gives hope to the hopeless, faith to the fearful, food to the hungry, water to the thirsty, love to the despised, comfort to the lonely, freedom to the prisoner, health to the sick, light in the darkness, and life to the dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt; I have set up circumstances and situations in your life to cause you to seek Me and find Me. I desire that you know Me. I am The Lord your God, full of compassion, and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, Let not the mighty man glory in his might, Nor let the rich man glory in his riches; But &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre &lt;/span&gt;glory in this, That you understand and know Me, That I am the LORD, exercising compassion, lovingkindness, judgment, and righteousness in the earth. For in these I delight and take pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All things are created for My pleasure and My pleasure is to show forth loving compassion. I have compassion on the poor and needy, and I am a Father to the fatherless, I help them, and I defend them. Far below Me are the heavens and the earth, I stoop to look down, and I lift the poor from the dirt and the needy from the garbage dump and I set them among princes. &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre &lt;/span&gt;I want you to do these things also, have compassion on the poor and needy and help them, this is what it means to know Me. For I am Love, and when you live in love, you live in Me, and I live in you. Loving compassion is good, and this is what I require from you, to do what is right, to love compassion, and to walk humbly with your God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a father has compassion on his children, so I your LORD have compassion on you because you fear Me; for I know how you were formed, I remember that you are dust. Forever and ever My love is with you because you fear Me, and My righteousness with your children's children; with those who keep My covenant and remember to obey My laws. My law is to love. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments all of My laws are based. When you walk in love you are obeying all My laws. When you walk in Love you are walking in My Holy Spirit for I AM LOVE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt; come and live in My shelter, in the protection of the Most High God, you will find rest in the presence of the Almighty. You will say, "This I declare of the LORD: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I am trusting him." &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt; I will rescue you from every trap and protect you from the fatal plague. I will shield you with My wings. I will shelter you with My feathers. My faithful promises are your armor and protection. Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night, nor fear the dangers of the day, nor dread the plague that stalks in darkness, nor the disaster that strikes at midday. Though a thousand fall at your side, though ten thousand are dying around you, these evils will not touch you. But you will see it with your eyes; you will see how the wicked are punished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because you &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre &lt;/span&gt;make the LORD your refuge, because you make the Most High your shelter, no evil will conquer you; no plague will come near your dwelling. For I order My angels to protect you wherever you go. They will hold you with their hands to keep you from striking your foot on a stone. You will trample down lions and poisonous snakes; you will crush fierce lions and serpents under your feet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt;, My love, and My friend, whom I have chosen, I have chosen you and have not rejected you. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will hold you up with my righteous right hand. All who come against you will surely be ashamed and disgraced; those who oppose you will be as nothing and perish. Though you search for your enemies, you will not find them. Those who wage war against you will be as nothing at all. For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, do not fear; I will help you. Do not be afraid, for I myself will help you declares the LORD, your Redeemer. You will rejoice in the LORD and glory in the Holy One of Israel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt;, when you asked Me to forgive your sins and come into your heart I sent My Holy Spirit into you to comfort you, to give you power, and as proof to you that I have adopted you as My child. The Holy Spirit shall lead you into all truth because He shall testify of Jesus, and He will give you power to testify of Jesus. I will speak to you through My Holy Spirit that is in you, He will tell you what is right and wrong, what is love and hate. My Holy Spirit is a gentle whisper inside your heart telling you the path to walk in. If you walk in My Spirit you will walk in love, you will not sin. And you will see great and mighty things happen before you, they will not be accomplished by strength, nor by outside force, but by My Spirit says the LORD ALMIGHTY. Through My Holy Spirit I shall give you supernatural gifts that you may be blessed, and that you shall bless others through demonstrating My love for them. My Holy Spirit will be with you through out your whole life, and after I will receive you into My glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I your LORD say to you I will rescue you because you love me. I will protect you because you trust in my name. When you call on me, I will answer; I will be with you in trouble. I will rescue you and honor you. I will satisfy you with a long life and give you my salvation. &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt;, Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me. It is your destiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus Says THE LORD Your GOD ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Amazing huh? He Can and will love you the same way. All you have to do is begin a relationship with Jesus Christ and He will do the rest. That's what I love about Him the most...He can Love Millions and still make time for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-1547632321000479074?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/1547632321000479074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=1547632321000479074&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1547632321000479074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1547632321000479074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/09/he-loves-me-still.html' title='He Loves Me Still...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMYd_JyD55I/AAAAAAAAA54/TS_SZ36YYHg/s72-c/walking.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4914013266050332001</id><published>2008-09-05T01:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T23:36:59.277-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All I Have To Say Is...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMSrYVCdRII/AAAAAAAAA5Q/g642EYPheZA/s1600-h/Obama-Biden08small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243504300618761346" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMSrYVCdRII/AAAAAAAAA5Q/g642EYPheZA/s400/Obama-Biden08small.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enuff Said!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4914013266050332001?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4914013266050332001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4914013266050332001&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4914013266050332001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4914013266050332001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/09/all-i-have-to-say-is.html' title='All I Have To Say Is...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMSrYVCdRII/AAAAAAAAA5Q/g642EYPheZA/s72-c/Obama-Biden08small.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8349505213676269465</id><published>2008-09-04T20:18:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T22:21:30.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Does That Make Me A Hater?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMCi5BEgTrI/AAAAAAAAA2w/ykpxTBlQtCs/s1600-h/goingtochurch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242369066682830514" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMCi5BEgTrI/AAAAAAAAA2w/ykpxTBlQtCs/s400/goingtochurch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If one more person uses the term &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"You Hatin" or "You just a hater"  &lt;/span&gt;I think I might scream! We have gotten so out of touch with reality it is a shame. Why does a person even ask your opinion if they are going to later call you a hater? I am so over that turn of phrase it's not even funny. Here is the reason I had to blog twice in one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend...well an acquaintance of mine called me at work to ask my "opinion" on an outfit she was wearing on a blind date this evening. I normally don't  give out Fashion advice to everyone, because most people will do or say what this young lady said and that will make me do 1 of 2 things: &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;A. Make me really angry.&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;B. Make me tell you that you look fine knowing you look a mess and send you out on the town looking a fool! &lt;/span&gt;Well needless to say she got the latter. I asked her to send me a photo of the outfit via an email and I would give it a look-see. She sent me the photo (taken by her with a cell phone no doubt) standing in front of a mirror of some kind. &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;*I don't care for those photos*&lt;/span&gt; I take a look at it and the first thing I noticed about the outfit is that there was no silhouette. She is a fuller figure woman and she should &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;*in my opinion*&lt;/span&gt; slim the waist down creating an elongating effect, rather then make her body appear bigger. Plus her Shoe choice was all wrong. She was wearing a calf length skirt, so she should have chosen an elegant flat or a wedged heel. Instead she went for a calf hugging boot which by the way was not appropriate for this season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After giving her outfit a once over I told her exactly what I just told you and do you know what she said...that's right... &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Whatever Dee, you just a hater..."&lt;/span&gt; I wanted to scream I tell you! Why did you call me?! Why didn't you simply wear your outfit and leave me out of it?! I really didn't have to know what you were going to wear...truly I did not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I turn on my laptop when I get home, to catch up on a few blogs and such and some woman made a comment about Soloange and the fact that (in her opinion) she can not sing. And wouldn't you know someone called her a hater as well...why can't we as a people have an opinion anymore without someone calling us a hater or thinking we have some ill conceived thought behind the things we say. It's so disappointing to know that Freedom of Speech has been chalked up to an Ebonics Trend , and some how in the past several years we have made a mockery of it and now everyone is a hater!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care for Rap music *esplly Nelly*, does that make me a hater? I don't care for long nails with over the top designs on them, does that make me a hater? I don't think heavy woman should wear those leggings that have come back in style, does that make me a hater? I could name a million things I don't particularly care for, and just because I don't care for them, does that make me a hater?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look bottom line if you don't want to hear what I have to say about ANYTHING, then don't ask me! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-8349505213676269465?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8349505213676269465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8349505213676269465&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8349505213676269465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8349505213676269465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/09/does-that-make-me-hater.html' title='Does That Make Me A Hater?'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMCi5BEgTrI/AAAAAAAAA2w/ykpxTBlQtCs/s72-c/goingtochurch.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8067342343564221680</id><published>2008-09-04T18:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T18:59:11.215-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He Called It!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMB2L7nWNEI/AAAAAAAAA2o/6oYvXYr1TpI/s1600-h/Hecalled.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242319913612620866" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMB2L7nWNEI/AAAAAAAAA2o/6oYvXYr1TpI/s400/Hecalled.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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/14413585-8067342343564221680?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8067342343564221680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8067342343564221680&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8067342343564221680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8067342343564221680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/09/he-called-it.html' title='He Called It!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SMB2L7nWNEI/AAAAAAAAA2o/6oYvXYr1TpI/s72-c/Hecalled.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-9176913391151280289</id><published>2008-09-03T13:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T21:34:54.604-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Dark But I Can See The Light</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SL9JL1nlKoI/AAAAAAAAA2g/o8aASwo-k9Y/s1600-h/gentle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241988959003028098" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SL9JL1nlKoI/AAAAAAAAA2g/o8aASwo-k9Y/s400/gentle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Know Thyself&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;poet unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;"You do not truly know yourself unless you confront yourself in the darkness at three am... no lights to shelter you surrounding you in fake daylight no music to hide the whispers of fear no moon, no stars, nothing... Just you.&lt;br /&gt;With nothing between you and the Dark you face the demons in your soul and see their true face then, knowing them they are conquered... but maybe they will conquer you...&lt;br /&gt;are you game to take that chance?&lt;br /&gt;I'm not. I have never been as scared in my life as I was last night... I raced to seize the torch to protect myself I know the dark within and I do not want to see it's true face... the veiled shadows are more than enough for me. Just thinking about them sends a chill down my spine&lt;br /&gt;I do not need to see to believe in the darkness in my soul. I know it is there...&lt;br /&gt;and I fear that it is stronger than I...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kajikitscorner.com/poetry/yang/poemsofdarkness.html#Poems"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I found this piece to be very interesting and wanted to post it. I have been in a dark place and felt like I would never see the light again. That was before I allowed God to take full control of my life. I have been in Church my whole life, however, I was chosen to walk in Salvation when I 23 years old and I haven't wanted to do anything else since. I have made a few mistakes and done a few things my way since being transformed, but I wouldn't do anything else. I simply Love my Life in Christ Jesus!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;18 More Days...:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-9176913391151280289?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/9176913391151280289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=9176913391151280289&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/9176913391151280289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/9176913391151280289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-dark-but-i-can-see-light.html' title='It&apos;s Dark But I Can See The Light'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SL9JL1nlKoI/AAAAAAAAA2g/o8aASwo-k9Y/s72-c/gentle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-264501068569368093</id><published>2008-08-30T12:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T18:41:55.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shoes = LOVE</title><content type='html'>My Passion....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SLnZTi5MJNI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/j68ng7ZBFgE/s1600-h/Shoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240458571229701330" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SLnZTi5MJNI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/j68ng7ZBFgE/s400/Shoes.jpg" 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/14413585-264501068569368093?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/264501068569368093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=264501068569368093&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/264501068569368093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/264501068569368093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/05/shoes-love.html' title='Shoes = LOVE'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SLnZTi5MJNI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/j68ng7ZBFgE/s72-c/Shoes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-149754956445120276</id><published>2008-08-07T22:10:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T23:24:06.848-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Diary: For some strange reason</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJvFreU9OyI/AAAAAAAAA1U/dETaf0z_KYY/s1600-h/breakmyheart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231992742786972450" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJvFreU9OyI/AAAAAAAAA1U/dETaf0z_KYY/s320/breakmyheart.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord I have an over active imagination. I use this to my advantage at times when my mind is so full of &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;JUNK&lt;/span&gt; as I refer to it. I take myself places only you know about, only sometimes I find it hard to come back. Sometimes I don't really like &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Reality&lt;/span&gt; all that much. Especially when the &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Reality&lt;/span&gt; your used to sucks! I mean between this &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;WAR&lt;/span&gt; I am still not clear on. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The Senseless shootings&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;My broken &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; lonely heart&lt;/span&gt;, I seriously need an escape sometimes. I can dream up people and places in a matter of seconds&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;.(I should write a book)&lt;/span&gt; the sad part of it all is when I have to come back to &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Reality&lt;/span&gt; it's hard to let go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want the world I conjure up in my mind so bad I can almost taste it. A world where I have never known what a &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Broken Heart&lt;/span&gt; feels like. A world where my &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Single Family&lt;/span&gt; home was a two parent home, with a picket fence and a yard. A world where my &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;3 Unborn Children&lt;/span&gt; were in my arms and not in heaven. A world where my &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Mother &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; I&lt;/span&gt; were never at odds and we were &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Friends&lt;/span&gt;. A world where I would &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT &lt;/span&gt;be &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;35 &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Single&lt;/span&gt;, but &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Happily Married&lt;/span&gt; to an &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Awesome Man &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;of &lt;/span&gt;God&lt;/span&gt; that loves me like the Lord. A world where I am &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; afraid to walk down the streets of my &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Neighborhood&lt;/span&gt;. A world where senseless &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;WARS&lt;/span&gt; were what people made up in their minds as horror stories to tell around the &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Campfire&lt;/span&gt;. A world where &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;911&lt;/span&gt; was all a dream and A world where &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Happiness &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Peace&lt;/span&gt; flowed as freely and &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Running Water&lt;/span&gt;. I could go on and on for hours about the world my mind creates and easily pull anyone in for the ride. However, this is my &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Happy Place&lt;/span&gt;...they need to find their own!&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/14413585-149754956445120276?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/149754956445120276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=149754956445120276&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/149754956445120276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/149754956445120276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/08/dear-diary-for-some-strange-reason.html' title='Dear Diary: For some strange reason'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJvFreU9OyI/AAAAAAAAA1U/dETaf0z_KYY/s72-c/breakmyheart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-5597031835977330484</id><published>2008-08-03T16:18:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T23:20:47.268-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Dairy: Missing Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJaABHIuo1I/AAAAAAAAAzM/4kretdVPkaY/s1600-h/tantrum.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230508773821293394" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJaABHIuo1I/AAAAAAAAAzM/4kretdVPkaY/s320/tantrum.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJaABKS5sLI/AAAAAAAAAzU/SuAqu1laQ0g/s1600-h/temper_tantrum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230508774669267122" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJaABKS5sLI/AAAAAAAAAzU/SuAqu1laQ0g/s320/temper_tantrum.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Father I miss my things!!!&lt;/span&gt; Okay so I am acting like a brat right now throwing a tantrum...a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hissy&lt;/span&gt; fit if you will, but I miss having my own apartment. I miss my clothes. I miss my shoes....I miss my &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;BED!&lt;/span&gt; Don't get me wrong I am not ungrateful for the lovely couch I am currently sleeping on at my sisters house, but come on now Lord, is this really the life you have for me? I think &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT!&lt;/span&gt; You said I should not be in any &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;LACK!&lt;/span&gt; Well, I am lacking a lot of things right now Father, yet I am standing on your word.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know the plan that God has for my life must be Super Fantastic, because this is some mess right here! I want the Lord to continue to teach me all the right ways to govern my life for a better future, because this must &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NEVER&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;EVER &lt;/span&gt;happen again! &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/14413585-5597031835977330484?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/5597031835977330484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=5597031835977330484&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5597031835977330484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5597031835977330484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/08/dear-dairy-missing-things.html' title='Dear Dairy: Missing Things'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJaABHIuo1I/AAAAAAAAAzM/4kretdVPkaY/s72-c/tantrum.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-1150479698880982825</id><published>2008-08-02T14:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T15:44:12.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Diary: Opportunities</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJTFTPKxChI/AAAAAAAAAzE/L3yQdbYF6_M/s1600-h/divaloungeweb2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230022001563863570" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJTFTPKxChI/AAAAAAAAAzE/L3yQdbYF6_M/s320/divaloungeweb2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well Lord, I asked for a door to be opened and your did just that. At first I was a bit sceptical about this new job position seeing how it's only 2days a week, and 4 hours a day, but there is so much potential there God, and I am so grateful. It has been and still is a long road that I have to travel, but I have always been the type to take the road less traveled by. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I used to think that if a thing doesn't happen when I wanted it to or in the way I wanted it to, that God had forgotten about me or my requests. Now I realize that God's Delay is not a Denial. I have learned to have so much gratitude for the small things, so that when the BIG things manifest I will know how to govern...lol!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I talked with my good friend Traci the other day and she told me how much of an inspiration I was to her, I began to cry. Most times I feel like I am a pitiful example of Strength, Courage and Wisdom and my friends are fools for thinking I lead by example. But that is not the case. She spoke of how I have displayed more Strength in the past year and 3 months of being unemployed then ever before. How I have displayed so much Courage in speaking the truth about my situation when asked then ever before. And how I have displayed so much Wisdom in dealing the with my situation then ever before. So maybe she is right. Maybe I do have all these qualities and more. I am finding out more and more about myself daily and it has and is taking me though a lot of emotions, but I thank you Lord for making me shine like a Diamond!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-1150479698880982825?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/1150479698880982825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=1150479698880982825&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1150479698880982825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1150479698880982825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/08/dear-diary-opportunities.html' title='Dear Diary: Opportunities'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJTFTPKxChI/AAAAAAAAAzE/L3yQdbYF6_M/s72-c/divaloungeweb2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-1041075730591788324</id><published>2008-07-30T23:31:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T00:17:58.467-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Diary: Still nothing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJFBinlhI8I/AAAAAAAAAy8/RTtJBWFdls8/s1600-h/julian+bell.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229032705351558082" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJFBinlhI8I/AAAAAAAAAy8/RTtJBWFdls8/s320/julian+bell.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;R.I.P Julian&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...And I thought I was going to cry. When I got up this morning I had every intention of going to his funeral. I had even picked out my "funeral outfit" and everything the night before. I knew what dress I was going to wear. I knew what shoes I was going put on. And I even had my speech prepared just in case anyone from my past were to ask me why I was there. I mean come on any real woman worth her salt has the "man from my past" speech ready to go by 18. Yet as the day went on and the time grew closer, I couldn't do it. A feeling of "is this really necessary" came over me and I literally did not feel led to go. Immediately I began to pray. "Lord, is it me or is it you?" I asked. I didn't want to be in flesh at all in my decision. I mean would me being there make one ounce of difference... In fact, I began to feel like I was simply going so that everyone would see how fabulous I look and that would have been totally wrong. Bottom line there was no real reason for me to attend and I felt a sigh of relief in my spirit when I came to this conclusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I received a phone call from my brother and he wanted to send me a picture. Automatically I knew what the picture was and who would be in it. At first I wanted to say don't send it, but then a part of me wanted to see him one last time....to sort of say my private goodbyes. So here I am looking at this picture and thinking to myself, "what a waste." It is sad to see such a promising young man laying in what will be his final resting bed. I always said or should I say thought he would one day prove me wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;"Hola Julian. You know I never called you June. And when I would slip up and call you that, you were the first one to correct me. It's weird that am saying all this to a picture, but this is the card life dealt, so I have to play this hand. For so long I would practice what I would say if we were to meet again and I swear I had that speech down pat. Then one day it didn't matter what I would say or tell you, it only mattered that I was free. I am free you know. I don't know the time or place my freedom from the spiritual bond I shared with you through ungodly soul ties took place, all I know is it did long before this, and for that I am glad. I don't know what I would have felt had it been a different time and a different me. I just pray that somewhere, sometime during your time on this earth, you found a way to know Jesus. I pray that God has mercy on your soul and that you will lift up eyes in Heaven. Even in your demise I only want the best for you, and that best can only come from Jesus Christ. I forgive you Julian. With all that is good and pure in my heart I forgive you. Rest in peace child of God..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am finding myself forgiving people more and more everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJFA_MEEPFI/AAAAAAAAAy0/aCD6ZY25K08/s1600-h/bloom2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/14413585-1041075730591788324?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/1041075730591788324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=1041075730591788324&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1041075730591788324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1041075730591788324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/07/dear-diary-still-nothing.html' title='Dear Diary: Still nothing...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SJFBinlhI8I/AAAAAAAAAy8/RTtJBWFdls8/s72-c/julian+bell.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3547525073031921036</id><published>2008-07-29T01:16:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T10:37:18.792-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Diary: Positive Re-enforcement</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SI8fYNjbtPI/AAAAAAAAAyU/D3l570_nOh4/s1600-h/10612-postcard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228432193216034034" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SI8fYNjbtPI/AAAAAAAAAyU/D3l570_nOh4/s400/10612-postcard.jpg" 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;Road Not Taken by Robert Frost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,&lt;br /&gt;And sorry I could not travel both&lt;br /&gt;And be one traveler, long I stood&lt;br /&gt;And looked down one as far as I could&lt;br /&gt;To where it bent in the undergrowth;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then took the other, as just as fair,&lt;br /&gt;And having perhaps the better claim,&lt;br /&gt;Because it was grassy and wanted wear;&lt;br /&gt;Though as for that the passing there&lt;br /&gt;Had worn them really about the same,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And both that morning equally lay&lt;br /&gt;In leaves no step had trodden black.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I kept the first for another day!&lt;br /&gt;Yet knowing how way leads on to way,&lt;br /&gt;I doubted if I should ever come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall be telling this with a sigh&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere ages and ages hence:&lt;br /&gt;Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—&lt;br /&gt;I took the one less traveled by,&lt;br /&gt;And that has made all the difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I'm so here right now. I Love this Poem*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-3547525073031921036?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3547525073031921036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3547525073031921036&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3547525073031921036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3547525073031921036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/07/dear-diary-positive-re-enforcement.html' title='Dear Diary: Positive Re-enforcement'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SI8fYNjbtPI/AAAAAAAAAyU/D3l570_nOh4/s72-c/10612-postcard.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3417187113182434358</id><published>2008-07-27T22:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T22:51:59.717-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Diary: That Thinking Thing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SI1CRqCf5bI/AAAAAAAAAyM/fyZdNRm92T4/s1600-h/loneliness.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227907613556991410" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SI1CRqCf5bI/AAAAAAAAAyM/fyZdNRm92T4/s400/loneliness.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Man I tell you, once I start I can't make it stop. When I begin to think on a thing it literally takes over my whole thought pattern until I eventually fall asleep. One minute I'm thinking about how awesome church service was, and the next thing I know...he pops in my head. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe it was the scent in the hall as I came home today. Maybe it was the way the janitor said hello. Maybe it was the three digit prefix in a number on my caller ID. Maybe it was the purchase of Nutter Butters on the way home that did it. Or maybe it is just one of those days when I wish I wasn't alone and desperately wanted some one to hold. I don't know what it was but I know it sucks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I always do I try to find the good in him that will make me call or txt and ask "how you doing?" I try to find the one thing that will make me think he is not all that bad. I spend hours trying to find that "sliver lining" that is never where it's supposed to be. And I try to convince myself that there is a bright side...I'm so Ann Frank...lol!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well at least my heart knows better. For it will not allow my brain to do anything other then think. Good thing my heart has sense.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-3417187113182434358?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3417187113182434358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3417187113182434358&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3417187113182434358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3417187113182434358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/07/dear-diary-that-thinking-thing.html' title='Dear Diary: That Thinking Thing'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SI1CRqCf5bI/AAAAAAAAAyM/fyZdNRm92T4/s72-c/loneliness.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3894340972729445786</id><published>2008-07-25T23:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T23:38:59.060-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Diary: 249 posts later...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SIqqH5Zb3gI/AAAAAAAAAyE/ToapbQKSdiA/s1600-h/diamondslips.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227177370160193026" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SIqqH5Zb3gI/AAAAAAAAAyE/ToapbQKSdiA/s400/diamondslips.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just found out that the guy I gave my virginity to, the one I gave my heart to and the one that broke my heart for the first time, was killed Wednesday night. I have to say I didn't feel anything when I heard the news, I simply felt sorry for his children. I was told about 2weeks ago that he had 2 sons and they popped in my head the moment I was told about this tragedy. The children are the ones that suffer the most in these kinds of situations. I feel so bad for them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't even think about all the hurt and pain he once caused me. I couldn't even recall the moment when I lost my virginity to him. I still don't remember the place where we met and I can't even remember what he looked like. Most people will say that's a shame, but I say it's the Lord who erased those memories along with my past, and for that I am grateful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The old folks always say that when a person, place or thing pops up out the blue and something kicks up inside of you...you haven't let it go. I can't pin point the exact time or year I let go, I just know now that I have and I am so grateful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;R.I.P Julian Bell:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-3894340972729445786?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3894340972729445786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3894340972729445786&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3894340972729445786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3894340972729445786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/07/dear-diary-249-posts-later.html' title='Dear Diary: 249 posts later...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SIqqH5Zb3gI/AAAAAAAAAyE/ToapbQKSdiA/s72-c/diamondslips.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4977004238058687655</id><published>2008-05-12T14:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T14:27:47.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love You Still a post revised</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SCiZ1jLB1RI/AAAAAAAAAt0/Stns1fDAa_A/s1600-h/m57.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199574915052852498" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SCiZ1jLB1RI/AAAAAAAAAt0/Stns1fDAa_A/s400/m57.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, so of course Mother's day was yesterday. I happen to be a firm believer that Mother's day should be every day, and I am grateful that the world acknowledges it as the most important day aside from the birth of Jesus Christ...and the 4th of July. I can remember the very first day I told my Mother I loved her. It was on my 5th birthday. See I heard people say I love you before and I always thought they were saying it because they were feeling something that I was too young to know about. So when my Mother would say "I love you", I would always say..."Me Too" Like that was the normal thing for a child my age to say. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well on this particular day it was my birthday and I wasn't having a a birthday party or anything, I was simply hanging out with my Mom. We went to what was at the time my favorite place to go...Venture! How many remember that store? There was something about that place and as a kid, you think your rich when you go into a big department store like that. We were walking around and some how or another I got separated from my Mother. It was the worst feeling ever...that and a toothache. I couldn't find her...and I tried to call her name but it seemed as though there was no air in my lungs. I remember looking around in circles...walking up and down aisles and finally crawling into some kind of cabinet case thing where they keep the jewelry. I couldn't even hear my Mother calling my name as she was looking for me as well...all I could hear was her voice telling me "I Love You" as she did everyday of my life. My mother never let a day go by without telling us girls (my sister and I) that she loved us. It was and still is the sweetest sound a child can hear from a parent. Esplly if one parent is all you have. Even when that woman (gotta call her that when I'm mad) would give me a spanking...or how the old folks say it "A Whoopin" she would always tell me she loved me, which as a kid you can't quite grasp that concept. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I was in that jewelry case thing I closed my eyes and began to envision my Mother standing in front of me and remembering what she told me to do if I ever get separated from her and I began to calm down. Mother's always have that way of making you feel better even when they are not around you. It's just the things they say and how comforting they make you feel. So I opened the door and I was headed to the nearest check out counter when I heard my Mother's voice...."Dee~Dee!" I heard it so loud and clear that time. I looked up and there was my Mother. After catching my breathe from the vice grip she had me in, I said "I Love You Mommie" for the first time and truly felt what love means. To me it means to feel without seeing...and that is what I guess I have been looking for my whole life...that same feeling of love I have for my Mother...just with a little spin on it (wink)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To my Mother: "Mother, I truly, madly, deeply love you with all my heart. And as long as God allows my to breathe I will love you just the same. Through the good times and the bad times, you have never given up and that shows me what true strength is. You are the Queen that God intended all women to be, and your reign is forever. Even at times when I was acting like the true un-mistakable jerk I can be, you found a way to love me still. Even when I seem withdrawn you found a way to love me still. Even when I didn't listen you found a way to love me still. Even when I was as stubborn as an ox, you found a way to love me still. Even when you didn't quite understand me you found a way to love me still. So now that the shoe is on the other foot, all the things you found a way to love me through, I will find a way to love you through...because I Love You.....STILL:)" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Breathe....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4977004238058687655?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4977004238058687655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4977004238058687655&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4977004238058687655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4977004238058687655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/05/love-you-still-post-revised.html' title='Love You Still a post revised'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SCiZ1jLB1RI/AAAAAAAAAt0/Stns1fDAa_A/s72-c/m57.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4973726344074044950</id><published>2008-05-11T14:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T14:24:41.189-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Grieving Heart on Mother’s Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SCiZXzLB1QI/AAAAAAAAAts/lO2HhkgbXbU/s1600-h/m57.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199574403951744258" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SCiZXzLB1QI/AAAAAAAAAts/lO2HhkgbXbU/s400/m57.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is Mother's Day and I have not called my Mother. I can't. I am so nervous and affraid to call her. I know God has not given me the spirit of fear, and that it is from the devil this feeling that I feel right now. So, while I am praying for the strength and courage to call her, I need the Lords help right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't spoken to my Mother in about 4 months and I haven't seen her in about three. She has not spoken to me since December of 2007 due to some things I will not go into right now. Just know that they hurt me to the core. So due to the hurt I can not call her on one of the most special days of her life. I wish you could feel the stinging in my heart, then maybe you could understand how I feel. I had to write this out so I could get it off my chest. I am so indifferent right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Help me Lord. I miss her so much...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dear Heavenly Father, I come in your son Jesus Christ name this morning with a grieving heart. Lord I thank you for all that you have done for me this far and all you are going to do as it lines up with your will. Lord you are so awesome, you are such a kind and loving God. You are such a wonderful and forgiving God. I ask that you continue to teach me how to be more like you in every way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father I need your help on today especially Lord, it is Mother's day and I am so nervous about calling my Mother and saying Happy Mother's Day. My heart is so full right now I could cry, in fact I want to cry. I don't have to remind you of what has been going on concerning my Mother and I, for you see all and know all. I pray that I will be able to forgive her that way that you forgive everyone. It is quite possibly the hardest thing I have ever had to do, and I am not sure if I can do it alone. I need your help right now like never before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I am not the only one who has ever gone through this kind of hurt, but and I have seen what you have done for them/others so I know you will do the same thing for me. I need you now Lord, you and your awesome Grace and Mercy. Thereare some people that do not have a Mother at all, and my heart goes out to them, I can only speak for myself right now Lord. Help me! I am crying out to you for Help! The Bible says you will be my help in my time of need. I am so scared and nervous right now. I can't even bring myself to call her right now, so I am asking for your Help!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord I thank you for all that you are to me and my family. I thank you for your Love for me and how much you care for me. You are an awesome God and I love you. You are worthy of all the Praise and Glory in Jesus name I pray...Amen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*might be some miss spelled words...sigh* &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4973726344074044950?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4973726344074044950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4973726344074044950&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4973726344074044950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4973726344074044950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/05/grieving-heart-on-mothers-day.html' title='A Grieving Heart on Mother’s Day'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SCiZXzLB1QI/AAAAAAAAAts/lO2HhkgbXbU/s72-c/m57.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3378311880953114106</id><published>2008-05-07T19:54:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T09:27:20.629-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What you say...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SCMNcmlmmdI/AAAAAAAAAtc/ZsD65G_ObNo/s1600-h/bahama_cover300x400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SCMNcmlmmdI/AAAAAAAAAtc/ZsD65G_ObNo/s400/bahama_cover300x400.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198013179961448914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-3378311880953114106?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3378311880953114106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3378311880953114106&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3378311880953114106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3378311880953114106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/05/what-you-say.html' title='What you say...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SCMNcmlmmdI/AAAAAAAAAtc/ZsD65G_ObNo/s72-c/bahama_cover300x400.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-7412218862419854163</id><published>2008-05-05T01:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T01:55:29.795-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I was sleep...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SB6u2SYo9HI/AAAAAAAAArs/Oe4oevpIgQA/s1600-h/islandpic.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196783267703485554" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SB6u2SYo9HI/AAAAAAAAArs/Oe4oevpIgQA/s400/islandpic.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...then one of my friends called and of course we were talking about absolutley nothing, when she asked me the proverbial &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"deserted island"&lt;/span&gt; question. Now normally when people ask this question it is to get into your head in order to figure you out. Now since we know one another pretty well, there was no need for a figure of any sort...that is until she had to answer the question. Let me just tell you which three ridiculous things she said she would bring.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;"1. My cell phone, 2. My laptop and 3. My wardrobe..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(Dee Dee rubbing the temples of her head in confusion)&lt;/span&gt; First of all, I said, aren't you stranded on this hypothetical island, so why do you need a cell phone and laptop? And if you did have said items, where would you plug them in at? And if you were lucky enough to have a cell phone that didn't get shorted out from the water due to the obvious plane crash or titanic shipwreck which brought you to this deserted island in the first place, then why don't you simply &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;CALL FOR HELP!&lt;/span&gt; And as for your wardrobe Ginger...who the heck is going to see you in a $200 dollar Donna Karan suit anyway?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do people always choose these things? Oh, and let's not forget those who will bring a radio, but no lifetime supply of &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;BATTERIES!&lt;/span&gt; A CD player, but not one single &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;CD!&lt;/span&gt; A TV...I'm not even going to go there. My point is this, your stranded people meaning your more then likely going to be there for quite some time. Sheesh!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me and my anwers.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;"1. My Bible, 2. A comfotable pair of walking shoes, and 3. A BED! LOL:)"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until we read again,&lt;br /&gt;Deirdre Edwina&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-7412218862419854163?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/7412218862419854163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=7412218862419854163&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7412218862419854163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7412218862419854163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-was-sleep.html' title='I was sleep...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SB6u2SYo9HI/AAAAAAAAArs/Oe4oevpIgQA/s72-c/islandpic.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4951005843000618144</id><published>2008-05-04T13:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T12:01:13.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus Walks!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SB865iYo9II/AAAAAAAAAr0/jKZ3Pst_ORM/s1600-h/jesuswalks.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196937255165949058" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SB865iYo9II/AAAAAAAAAr0/jKZ3Pst_ORM/s400/jesuswalks.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I saw this photo, instantly I was moved beyond measure. I love Jesus so much!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-4951005843000618144?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4951005843000618144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4951005843000618144&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4951005843000618144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4951005843000618144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/05/jesus-walks.html' title='Jesus Walks!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SB865iYo9II/AAAAAAAAAr0/jKZ3Pst_ORM/s72-c/jesuswalks.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-5014047918011800184</id><published>2008-05-03T10:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T13:56:23.187-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How to make sure Men Wash their Hands...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SByz1SYo8_I/AAAAAAAAAqs/-f6MOOde0Vc/s1600-h/sink.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196225798128333810" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SByz1SYo8_I/AAAAAAAAAqs/-f6MOOde0Vc/s400/sink.jpg" 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/14413585-5014047918011800184?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/5014047918011800184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=5014047918011800184&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5014047918011800184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5014047918011800184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/05/how-to-make-sure-men-wash-their-hands.html' title='How to make sure Men Wash their Hands...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SByz1SYo8_I/AAAAAAAAAqs/-f6MOOde0Vc/s72-c/sink.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-5707286540325883262</id><published>2008-05-01T09:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T01:38:00.716-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You say Nineveh, I say Nevada</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SBllAiYo89I/AAAAAAAAAqc/rs4H7ud7K0A/s1600-h/lasvegas.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195294705053135826" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SBllAiYo89I/AAAAAAAAAqc/rs4H7ud7K0A/s400/lasvegas.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so I applied for this position that will require I move from Chicago to Las Vegas, Nevada and I have to say that I am contemplating the idea a whole lot. I mean I have lived in Chicago my whole life (minus my stint in Minneapolis) and I have to say that Nevada is looking pretty darn good. I have been to Las Vegas twice and I had fun both times, however I never dreamed of moving there. I am not one for the gambling scene but I have to admit the place is guite impressionable. It was like "Bright Lights Big City" when I stepped off that plane for the first time, and the city looks amazing at night...still I have my doubts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching 'Bruce Almighty' last night (hee-larry-ous movie by the way) and while I was watching it Jonah popped in my head. I began to think of how Jonah was told by God to go into the Land of Nineveh and Preach the Gospel to the people and how Jonah was affraid to go. Now I'm not saying that God told me to go to Nevada but this story still applies. Let me explain. I posted an update on my myspace page that read: "goodbye Chicago, hello Las Vegas...?" and one of my friends sent me this msg. Now, first I want to say how much I appreciate him leaving me this msg and how much it blessed my soul to see someone (other then me) concerned about my spirit man. He says: "Vegas has some strange spirits...be mindfull." like I said this blessed my soul. I don't know if you guys know this or not, but Vegas has legalized the hooker game and folk are lovin it! So just to recap a bit: Las Vegas + Gambling + Legal hookers = Sin City! Why on earth would a good Christian woman like myself want to go to a place that is about 90% contrary to the Word of God?...this I can not explain right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonah did not under no uncertain terms want to go to Nineveh (as outlined in the book of Jonah in your Bible) as instructed by God, but he went anyway...well after being spit out on dry land by a whale, but nevertheless he went. I think that if the Lord my God grants me permission to go to Nevada (according to HIS will not my own) then HE will equip me with the Wisdom, Knowledge and Understanding in order to survive there. I believe that HE will Lead, Guide and Protect my path from all things that are un-like HIM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All things considered it diffinetly has it's share of "Pros and Cons" and I am so in the "contemplation" stage of this venture...besides I haven't even been offered the job yet so who knows, maybe God will pull a ram out the chitown bush just in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...you say Nineveh, I say Nevada...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-5707286540325883262?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/5707286540325883262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=5707286540325883262&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5707286540325883262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5707286540325883262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/05/you-say-nineveh-i-say-nevada.html' title='You say Nineveh, I say Nevada'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SBllAiYo89I/AAAAAAAAAqc/rs4H7ud7K0A/s72-c/lasvegas.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-4808873059531370591</id><published>2008-04-24T22:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T22:16:27.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flaws and All</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SBE2pyYo82I/AAAAAAAAApk/_l66QzIJqno/s1600-h/pinkdiva.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192991936862548834" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SBE2pyYo82I/AAAAAAAAApk/_l66QzIJqno/s400/pinkdiva.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"I have a flat behind. My skin is breaking out. I bite my nails. The big toe on both feet is way too big, and my arch is falling. The hair around my edges is falling out. I pass gas in my sleep and I am quite for sure I snore. My breast are too big. I am out of shape. I can't cook a decent meal without instructions. My heart is broken, and I have way too much baggage from past relationships. I cry all the time. When I am mad I play the silent game. My arms jiggle when I wave goodbye to people due to that fat that seems to be the hardest to get rid of. I have stretch marks on my stomach and I need to lose about 25 pounds. My eyebrows don't seem to arch correctly. I am missing two back teeth. I have a k&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;eloid&lt;/span&gt; on my left ear, and a flesh mole on my chin that looks like a scar. My nose is too wide. My feet are big. I am a Diabetic with fear of needles issues. I miss handle money by spending it on way too expensive things. I wipe my wet hands on my shirt or pants, and sometimes wipe nose with my sleeves. I don't always cover my mouth when I cough, and my eyes cross up sometimes when I stare too long. I have oily skin that makes my forehead shine. I eat while in bed and don't always swap out the crumbs. At times I can be really selfish and a bit of a nag. I always want my way. I cry way too much. I have about 5 things I am insecure about. And to top it all off...I am an emotional wreck!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#330033;"&gt;I finally mustered up enough courage to ask this guy from my church out for coffee or dinner or whatever comes out during the asking process, and I wondered to myself what flaws (if any) would he see in me. Of course this prompted me to look within myself and list all the things I find wrong with myself that I thought he would see.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I will get to this in a minute...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff80c0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;I took this class at my church entitled "Masters" and it truly opened my eyes to the real me. I mean most of the things I learned during this class I already knew, but then there were things about myself that I did not know. The class did however confirm that I am indeed an Extrovert...like you didn't know that right? Here are a few of the attributes of an Extrovert.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;General Characteristics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Projects their energy outwardly, making their actions easy for all to see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Absorb themselves in activities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Focus outwardly toward activities and actions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Speaks freely and vocally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Tolerates crowds and noise, but can be easily distracted.....(oooh Gary Dourdan is on TV...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Meets People readily and participate in many activities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Enjoys a public arena with lots going on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Gets restless without involvement with people or activities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Skim the surface and act quickly, in an expedient way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Now aside from that distraction comment...tee hee...I find this all to be quit true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Relationship Styles&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Likes having many acquaintances and friendships in addition to their primary one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Enters a new relationship easily and throw caution to the wind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Talk about their relationships to others...(do not!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Feel in their element during the relationship game...(I can't call it)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Make contact with almost everyone at social events.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Discuss any and all of their thoughts readily with their partner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Quickly become lonely when their partner is absent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~Share their personal space and time easily with others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Now there are only about 5 of these that I agree with, for I find it incredibly hard to approach a guy when I find him attractive or interesting, so I don't know what the heck they are talking about! When it comes to relationships I think I am more of an Introvert then an Extrovert.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Which leads me to my opening quoted statement. I had this far out day dream that I was on a date with this certain guy I find attractive and interesting and mid way through the date, I felt the need to blurt out all the things I ever wanted to say to a guy &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;(about myself)&lt;/span&gt; right off the bat! In the day dream it felt very freeing and liberating, and the guy assured me that he liked me for me. I just wonder how I would really feel if I were to express myself like that and&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;furthermore...how would the guy feel. I will never know I guess for until I begin to live up to the &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;"relationship styles"&lt;/span&gt; of an Extrovert, I will continue to day dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until we read again,&lt;br /&gt;Deirdre Edwina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&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;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&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;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/14413585-4808873059531370591?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/4808873059531370591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=4808873059531370591&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4808873059531370591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/4808873059531370591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/03/flaws-and-all.html' title='Flaws and All'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SBE2pyYo82I/AAAAAAAAApk/_l66QzIJqno/s72-c/pinkdiva.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-1671474086736110123</id><published>2008-04-05T10:01:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T21:45:38.305-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wish List Item #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SAQWpvQCkwI/AAAAAAAAAo0/HIV4fTfPIh0/s1600-h/MB+Scalloped+Patent+Sandal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189297576951845634" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SAQWpvQCkwI/AAAAAAAAAo0/HIV4fTfPIh0/s400/MB+Scalloped+Patent+Sandal.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awards dress: $98.00&lt;br /&gt;Acessories: $44.00&lt;br /&gt;Make-up: $32.00&lt;br /&gt;Manolo Blahnik Scalloped Patent Sandals: $665.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone to buy them for me cuz Lord knows I can't afford them, but they would look so good with my outfit...PRICELESS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For most things there is a way to afford it. For everything else there's a Wish List:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-1671474086736110123?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/1671474086736110123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=1671474086736110123&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1671474086736110123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1671474086736110123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/04/wish-list-item-1.html' title='Wish List Item #1'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/SAQWpvQCkwI/AAAAAAAAAo0/HIV4fTfPIh0/s72-c/MB+Scalloped+Patent+Sandal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8144618640514451024</id><published>2008-03-31T19:58:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T21:20:28.865-05:00</updated><title type='text'>That's My King!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GbpKQY2JI/AAAAAAAAAnM/kO8NISWMNiE/s1600-h/christ1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184095777510185106" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GbpKQY2JI/AAAAAAAAAnM/kO8NISWMNiE/s400/christ1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;By Dr. S.M. Lockridge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bible says my King is a seven-way king....He's the King of the Jews; that's a racial king....He's the King of Israel; that's a national King....He's the King of Righteousness....He's the King of the Ages.....He's the King of Heaven....He's the King of Glory....He's the King of kings, and He's the Lord of lords. That's my King. Well....I wonder, do you know Him?.... David said, "The Heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament shows His handiwork. My King is a sovereign King. No means of measure can define His limitless love. No far seeing telescope can bring into visibility the coastline of His shoreless supply. No barrier can hinder Him from pouring out His blessings. He's enduringly strong....He's entirely sincere....He's eternally steadfast....He's immortally graceful....He's imperially powerful....He's impartially merciful....... Do you know Him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GMFqQY2EI/AAAAAAAAAmk/5PRWrVatdXY/s1600-h/christeating.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184078674950412354" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GMFqQY2EI/AAAAAAAAAmk/5PRWrVatdXY/s400/christeating.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's the greatest phenomenon that ever crossed the horizon of this world. He's God's Son....He's a sinner's Saviour....He's the centerpiece of civilization....He stands in the solitude of Himself....He's august....He's unique....He's unparalleled....He's unprecedented....He's the loftiest idea in literature....He's the highest personality in philosophy....He's the supreme problem in higher criticism....He's the fundamental doctrine of true theology....He's the cardinal necessity for spiritual religion....He's the miracle of the age.... He's the superlative of everything good that you choose to call Him....He's the only one qualified to be an all sufficient Saviour...... I wonder if you know Him today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GMF6QY2FI/AAAAAAAAAms/VQCb9AJsz1o/s1600-h/mutitudes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184078679245379666" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GMF6QY2FI/AAAAAAAAAms/VQCb9AJsz1o/s400/mutitudes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He supplies strength for the weak....He's available for the tempted and the tried....He sympathizes and He saves....He strengthens and sustains....He guards and He guides....He heals the sick....He cleanses lepers....He forgives sinners....He discharges debtors....He delivers captives....He defends the feeble....He blesses the young....He serves the unfortunate....He regards the aged....He rewards the diligent....and He beautifies the meek....... I wonder if you know Him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GMF6QY2GI/AAAAAAAAAm0/EYv6VIYXLUo/s1600-h/thecross.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184078679245379682" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GMF6QY2GI/AAAAAAAAAm0/EYv6VIYXLUo/s400/thecross.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my King....is the King....He's the key to knowledge....He's the wellspring to wisdom....He's the doorway of deliverance....He's the pathway of peace....He's the roadway of righteousness ....He's the highway of holiness....He's the gateway of glory....... Do you know Him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GMGKQY2HI/AAAAAAAAAm8/McScjkUkwdg/s1600-h/thecross2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184078683540346994" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GMGKQY2HI/AAAAAAAAAm8/McScjkUkwdg/s400/thecross2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well....His office is manifold....His promise is sure....His light is matchless....His goodness is limitless....His mercy is everlasting....His love never changes....His word is enough....His grace is sufficient....His reign is righteous....and His yoke is easy, and his burden is light. I wish I could describe Him to you, but He's indescribable....He's incomprehensible....He's invincible....He's irresistible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, you can't get Him out of your mind....You can't get Him off of your hand....You can't out live Him, and you can't live without Him....The Pharisees couldn't stand Him, but they found out they couldn't stop Him....Pilate couldn't find any fault in Him....The witnesses couldn't get their testimonies to agree....Herod couldn't kill Him....Death couldn't handle Him, and the grave couldn't hold Him. Yea!!!, that's my King, that's my King.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father..."Thine is the Kingdom....and the Power....and the Glory....Forever"....and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever. How long is that? And ever...and ever...and when you get through with all the forevers, then.... AMEN!....AMEN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GMGKQY2II/AAAAAAAAAnE/-KfpEUWteZc/s1600-h/christ2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184078683540347010" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GMGKQY2II/AAAAAAAAAnE/-KfpEUWteZc/s400/christ2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-8144618640514451024?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8144618640514451024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8144618640514451024&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8144618640514451024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8144618640514451024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/03/by-dr.html' title='That&apos;s My King!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R_GbpKQY2JI/AAAAAAAAAnM/kO8NISWMNiE/s72-c/christ1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-5603362163211233093</id><published>2008-03-14T09:33:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T20:31:51.056-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lyrical Conversations</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R-MM4qQY17I/AAAAAAAAAlc/RTXOxD1F1E8/s1600-h/songstress.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179998163961436082" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R-MM4qQY17I/AAAAAAAAAlc/RTXOxD1F1E8/s400/songstress.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Category: Life &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was listening the radio today which I rarely do, and I heard a song that completely spoke to me on so many levels. It of course got my brain spinning and I began to wonder why it is that songwriters/singers/rappers/poets seem to say the exact thing we want to say? because they go through the same things we do that’s why! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went home and went through the songs on my laptop and found 5 songs that would make great conversations concerning 5 situations currently going on in life right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lyrical Conversation 1: The Prayer Closet - Never Would Have Made It by Marvin Sapp (me as I worship with the Father)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never would have made it, never could have made it, without you&lt;br /&gt;I would have lost it all, but now I see how you were there for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can say&lt;br /&gt;Never would have made it,&lt;br /&gt;Never could have made it,&lt;br /&gt;Without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have lost it all,&lt;br /&gt;But I now how I see how you were there for me and I can say I’m stronger, I’m wiser, I’m better,&lt;br /&gt;much better,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I look back over all you brought me thru.&lt;br /&gt;I can see that you were the one that I held on to&lt;br /&gt;And I never Never would have made it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I never could have made it&lt;br /&gt;Never could have made it without you&lt;br /&gt;Oh I would have lost it all, oh but now I see how you were there for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never&lt;br /&gt;Never would have made it&lt;br /&gt;No, I never&lt;br /&gt;Never could have made it without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have lost my mind a long time ago, if it had not been for you.&lt;br /&gt;I am stronger&lt;br /&gt;I am stronger&lt;br /&gt;I am wiser&lt;br /&gt;I am wiser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am better&lt;br /&gt;I am better&lt;br /&gt;So much better&lt;br /&gt;I am better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it thru my storm and my test because you were there to carry me thru my mess&lt;br /&gt;I am stronger&lt;br /&gt;I am stronger&lt;br /&gt;I am wiser&lt;br /&gt;I am wiser&lt;br /&gt;I am better&lt;br /&gt;I am better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anybody better&lt;br /&gt;I am better&lt;br /&gt;I can stand here and tell you, I made it. Anybody out there that you made it&lt;br /&gt;I am stronger&lt;br /&gt;I am stronger&lt;br /&gt;I am wiser&lt;br /&gt;I am wiser&lt;br /&gt;I am better&lt;br /&gt;I am better&lt;br /&gt;Much better&lt;br /&gt;I am better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it, I made it, I made it, I made it, I made it, I made it, I made it, I made it&lt;br /&gt;And I never would have made it&lt;br /&gt;Never would have made it&lt;br /&gt;Never could have made it&lt;br /&gt;Never could have made it without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have lost my mind, I would have gave up, but you were right there, you were right there&lt;br /&gt;I never Never would have made it Oh I never&lt;br /&gt;I never could have made it without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lyrical Coversation 2: The Stand - Listen by Beyonce (me talking to my Mother...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen, to the song here in my heart&lt;br /&gt;A melody I start but can’t complete&lt;br /&gt;Listen, to the sound from deep within&lt;br /&gt;It’s only beginning to find release&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the time has come&lt;br /&gt;For my dreams to be heard&lt;br /&gt;They will not be pushed aside and turned&lt;br /&gt;Into your own, all cause you won’t listen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is someone here inside&lt;br /&gt;Someone I thought had died so long ago&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I’m screaming out&lt;br /&gt;And my dreams will be heard&lt;br /&gt;They will not be pushed aside or worse&lt;br /&gt;Bent into your own, all cause you won’t listen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know where I belong&lt;br /&gt;But I’ll be moving on&lt;br /&gt;If you don’t, if you won’t&lt;br /&gt;Listen…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen, I am alone at a across roads&lt;br /&gt;I’m not at home in my own home&lt;br /&gt;And I’ve tried and tried&lt;br /&gt;To say what’s on my mind&lt;br /&gt;You should have known&lt;br /&gt;Oh, now I’m done believing you&lt;br /&gt;You don’t know what I’m feeling&lt;br /&gt;I’m more than what you made of me&lt;br /&gt;I followed the voice you gave to me&lt;br /&gt;But now I’ve got find my own.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lyrical Conversation 3: The Confrontation - Fool Of Me by Michelle N’deago Chello (me talking to "T")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when you filled my heart with joy&lt;br /&gt;Was I blind to the truth just there to fill the space&lt;br /&gt;Cause now you have no interest in anything I have to say&lt;br /&gt;And I have allowed you to make me feel dumb&lt;br /&gt;What kind of fool am I that you so easily set me aside &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to kiss you&lt;br /&gt;Does she want you with the pain that I do&lt;br /&gt;I smell you in my dreams&lt;br /&gt;But now when were face to face you wont look me in the eye&lt;br /&gt;No time no friendship no love&lt;br /&gt;Dont say dont touch you I cant touch you no more&lt;br /&gt;Cant touch you any more any more&lt;br /&gt;I dont touch you anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You made a fool of me&lt;br /&gt;Tell me why&lt;br /&gt;You say that you dont care but we made love&lt;br /&gt;Tell me why&lt;br /&gt;You made a fool of me you made a fool of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lyrical Coversation 4: The Fear Factor - When I See You by Fantasia (they way I feel about the guy I’m interested in)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put your picture on my mirror&lt;br /&gt;Start to blush when somebody says your name&lt;br /&gt;In my stomach there’s a pain&lt;br /&gt;See you walk in my direction&lt;br /&gt;I go the other way&lt;br /&gt;I start to stutter when I speak&lt;br /&gt;Start to stand but my knees go weak&lt;br /&gt;What’s happening to me?&lt;br /&gt;In the dark, can you tell me what it means?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scribble x and o’s in my notebook&lt;br /&gt;Checking how my hair and my nails look&lt;br /&gt;I feel myself in a zone&lt;br /&gt;I get nervous when you call&lt;br /&gt;So I say i’m not home&lt;br /&gt;I see your face&lt;br /&gt;And I hear my favorite song&lt;br /&gt;Should I send an e-mail at home?&lt;br /&gt;You’re the number one topic on the phone&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if you know or do you have a clue, yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something now is taking over me&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah&lt;br /&gt;I’m not gonna run not&lt;br /&gt;Just gonna stand here and see&lt;br /&gt;Oh, oh, oh, yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lay my head on my pillow&lt;br /&gt;Staring out the window&lt;br /&gt;Wish on a star for a sign&lt;br /&gt;You’re the reason why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’re always on my mind&lt;br /&gt;When you come around I get shy&lt;br /&gt;When I see you (See you)&lt;br /&gt;When I see you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never know when you might walk by&lt;br /&gt;So I gotta be right on time&lt;br /&gt;When I see you&lt;br /&gt;When I see you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lyrical Conversation 5: The Confession - A Woman Like Me by Beyonce (me talking to the guy that I’m interested in)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think&lt;br /&gt;You could fall for a woman like me&lt;br /&gt;’Cause I find it hard to trust&lt;br /&gt;I need too much&lt;br /&gt;And I really don’t believe in love, no no&lt;br /&gt;Do you think&lt;br /&gt;That I could be the girl of your dreams&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I don’t let things go&lt;br /&gt;Get emotional&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes I’m just out of control&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think&lt;br /&gt;That I could be the one that you seek&lt;br /&gt;’Cause baby I’m one step ahead&lt;br /&gt;You’re two steps behind&lt;br /&gt;But baby I don’t mind&lt;br /&gt;Do you think&lt;br /&gt;That I can make you real happy baby&lt;br /&gt;Just don’t get me wrong&lt;br /&gt;My loving is so strong&lt;br /&gt;But I ain’t tryna lead you on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You need to stop for a minute&lt;br /&gt;Before you get too, deep up in it&lt;br /&gt;(Too deep)&lt;br /&gt;’Cause everything ain’t what it seems&lt;br /&gt;It’s hard loving a woman&lt;br /&gt;A woman like me&lt;br /&gt;(Woman like me)&lt;br /&gt;You need to think about it&lt;br /&gt;Before you get hooked on the venom&lt;br /&gt;And can’t live without it&lt;br /&gt;(No no)&lt;br /&gt;Can’t believe everything you see&lt;br /&gt;It’s hard loving a woman&lt;br /&gt;A woman like me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would never say these things on my own!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until We Read Again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-5603362163211233093?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/5603362163211233093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=5603362163211233093&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5603362163211233093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5603362163211233093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/03/lyrical-conversations.html' title='Lyrical Conversations'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R-MM4qQY17I/AAAAAAAAAlc/RTXOxD1F1E8/s72-c/songstress.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-182039679407588443</id><published>2008-03-07T23:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T11:56:52.253-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I GIVE UP! I'M DONE! I QUIT....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R9GBh7Y2uLI/AAAAAAAAAjU/9EL8hltzCHM/s1600-h/loneliness.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175059866703018162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R9GBh7Y2uLI/AAAAAAAAAjU/9EL8hltzCHM/s400/loneliness.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*U&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I was looking for a love to call mine&lt;br /&gt;But instead I found you [4x]&lt;br /&gt;And it was just a true waste of my time&lt;br /&gt;In love if we mess up (so)&lt;br /&gt;But how come with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I flip and ask myself why&lt;br /&gt;It had to be you [4x]&lt;br /&gt;But then I get a grip&lt;br /&gt;It was all a lie&lt;br /&gt;And love was so precious&lt;br /&gt;Until I met you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[chorus]&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I saw a prize&lt;br /&gt;In you, you&lt;br /&gt;Everynight I close my eyes&lt;br /&gt;Oh, it's alright&lt;br /&gt;I lose my sight of you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone is bound to come along&lt;br /&gt;In due time&lt;br /&gt;And do better than you [4x]&lt;br /&gt;And I wont be left alone&lt;br /&gt;He'll love me for life&lt;br /&gt;And sure wont be callous and&lt;br /&gt;Selfish like you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How the strength in me has grown&lt;br /&gt;And I realize&lt;br /&gt;I don't need you [4x]&lt;br /&gt;Disrespect you've shown&lt;br /&gt;You can run and hide&lt;br /&gt;But all of what happened&lt;br /&gt;Will come back to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[chorus]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, moving on (yeah)&lt;br /&gt;Making a new start (yeah)&lt;br /&gt;I'm making&lt;br /&gt;I will live my life&lt;br /&gt;And surely it won't be with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[chorus]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why&lt;br /&gt;Not so sad about you no more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I'M DONE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m done...loving&lt;br /&gt;Ooh done...yeah, loving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[VERSE 1]&lt;br /&gt;I’m in no need for love&lt;br /&gt;Stretched this sister more than a mile&lt;br /&gt;It’s not for me because&lt;br /&gt;There’s no trust in love, so I’m restin’ a while&lt;br /&gt;How could u do me this way, love?&lt;br /&gt;I can’t recall how you made me smile&lt;br /&gt;And I don’t have time to play (with ya)&lt;br /&gt;If I see ya, make it worth my while&lt;br /&gt;Until then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[CHORUS]&lt;br /&gt;I’m done...loving&lt;br /&gt;(I’m done) Ooh done, yeah...loving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[VERSE 2]&lt;br /&gt;No need for love&lt;br /&gt;Unless it’s Mr., oh, Mr. Right (Mr. Right)&lt;br /&gt;And only because&lt;br /&gt;Mixin’ lust with love only means a fight&lt;br /&gt;‘Cuz there’ll be dues to pay (pay, yeah)&lt;br /&gt;And most of all many sleepless nights&lt;br /&gt;But that won't be today, no&lt;br /&gt;Guess I’ll see ya, looove, it’s been nice&lt;br /&gt;Until then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[CHORUS]&lt;br /&gt;I’m done...loving&lt;br /&gt;(I’m done, yeah) Ooh done, yeah...(Loving, yeah) loving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[BRIDGE]&lt;br /&gt;Hit the road&lt;br /&gt;You can’t live here no more&lt;br /&gt;Hit the road...Go&lt;br /&gt;Hit the road&lt;br /&gt;You can’t live here no more&lt;br /&gt;Hit the roooad...Ooh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m done, yeah...Go&lt;br /&gt;If you’re lookin' for me I’m done-done-done-done (done, done)&lt;br /&gt;How could you do this to me, love? I’m done (done, done)&lt;br /&gt;Just a vacancy, I’m done (I’m done done)&lt;br /&gt;Done, I’m done, so done...I’m done (done, done)&lt;br /&gt;Such a vacancy (done)...(Done, done)&lt;br /&gt;Love don’t live here anymore, done&lt;br /&gt;So done, so done&lt;br /&gt;So done, so done, so done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*DRUNK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got a five in my pocket&lt;br /&gt;Wanna buy me some gin&lt;br /&gt;A drop of gas in my tank let me think it over again, mmm&lt;br /&gt;Cause I'd rather be drunk and drive away from here&lt;br /&gt;Than to be sober, so sober yea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No friends comin thru&lt;br /&gt;I think I've lost them all&lt;br /&gt;No man to take there place&lt;br /&gt;So I decided to make this call, whoa ho&lt;br /&gt;That I'd rather be drunk on a cloud away from here&lt;br /&gt;I don't wanna be sober, no not sober yea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Broke and alone nowhere to go&lt;br /&gt;And loneliness is hurting me so&lt;br /&gt;Broke and alone, nowhere to go&lt;br /&gt;And loneliness and hurting so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One stog left to light&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll smoke just a half&lt;br /&gt;By the time I finish this drink&lt;br /&gt;I'll roll the last of the grass, yea hey&lt;br /&gt;Cause I'd rather feel pumped&lt;br /&gt;Than to drown in my tears&lt;br /&gt;That'll help me peel over, sleep the night over yea hey&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, yea yea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[windy voice]&lt;br /&gt;Oh I could've swore oh&lt;br /&gt;Sober, sober, sober&lt;br /&gt;And lonliness is killing me slow&lt;br /&gt;Broke and alone, whoo boy, what ever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I drink too much&lt;br /&gt;Cause the road is all lop-sided&lt;br /&gt;I only drove a small way&lt;br /&gt;I thought I swore not to take this ride, yea hey&lt;br /&gt;Now my air's being pumped&lt;br /&gt;And I'm drenched in my tears Oh&lt;br /&gt;I don't wanna peel over&lt;br /&gt;Just wanna be sober yea, oooh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why I had to go&lt;br /&gt;Killing me slow, slow&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could have listened to my conscience&lt;br /&gt;And not drunk a drip&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't be here in so many pieces&lt;br /&gt;I shouldn't have drank a sip...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*ALL TWEET SONGS AND LYRICS that express how I feel right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until we read again,&lt;br /&gt;Deirdre Edwina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-182039679407588443?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/182039679407588443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=182039679407588443&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/182039679407588443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/182039679407588443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-give-up-im-done-i-quit.html' title='I GIVE UP! I&apos;M DONE! I QUIT....'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R9GBh7Y2uLI/AAAAAAAAAjU/9EL8hltzCHM/s72-c/loneliness.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-1662967127566546077</id><published>2008-03-06T16:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T20:15:45.472-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I am the Gem that the Jeweler Refused...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R88xhKKHhjI/AAAAAAAAAis/Q-YAfzLb_4I/s1600-h/sadness~Sadness-Posters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174408942604224050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R88xhKKHhjI/AAAAAAAAAis/Q-YAfzLb_4I/s400/sadness~Sadness-Posters.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;As I write this, my heart is breaking. I can feel the quakes ripple inside my chest as my mind continues to recall our past. Our past...that's a funny statement when I think about it. We really didn't have much of a past, but what we did have has left a scar on my heart. I am bleeding sorrow from the pit of my soul! I just want to scream!! I can hardly breathe!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What could have me this un-nerved, I am losing a man that I never had...that's what.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;When I first heard that he was leaving, it didn't really sink in. I guess because I thought he wouldn't really leave. Then I some how put the whole thing out of my mind, and begun the draining efforts in which to get him back. Did I really even want him back or was it all just so he wouldn't want to leave? Then I would have more time to convince him that I am the one he should be with. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;It has been several years that I have known this man, and in that time I have had my heart broken so many times, and most of that was my fault. I made it something it was not. I made it bigger then it was. I should have just let go....but I couldn't. I was falling in love with him. It was too late. My heart was gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I have spent the past several years trying to get my heart back, and at times I thought I had. I would be strong and stern in my convictions and it would work for a while. Then out of nowhere, I would want to know if he was okay. If he was dead or alive. If he was sick or well. If he was happy or sad. His well being became one of my main concerns.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Even though we are not and probably were never meant to be, I always held him close to my heart. Closer then any other man I have ever known. Even when I am upset with him (which is 85% of the time) I can't stay angry. I try to, but it never works. I have never been the type of person to hold a grudge or stay angry with someone. I simply can't do it. Although, people have no problem when it comes to me.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;(things that make you go hummmmmmmm)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;He's leaving and there is nothing I can do about it. I wish I could fix it. I wish I could make things go his way. It's not up to me....I know that. Maybe God is moving him out of my life, because he knows I can't do it on my own. Maybe it is the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Perfect Will&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;and not the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Submissive Will&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;of the Lord. Either way my heart has to say Amen. It has to. I will try to explain it to myself, but what will I tell my heart?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Hey Heart, there will be: No more chances to make him finally see you for you. No more witty conversations that are designed to spark his interest. No more waiting to see yourself in his eyes. You never saw your reflection in his eyes and now you never will. He's leaving...."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/14413585-1662967127566546077?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/1662967127566546077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=1662967127566546077&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1662967127566546077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1662967127566546077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-am-stone-that-builder-refused.html' title='I am the Gem that the Jeweler Refused...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R88xhKKHhjI/AAAAAAAAAis/Q-YAfzLb_4I/s72-c/sadness~Sadness-Posters.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-7731319460788222781</id><published>2008-03-06T16:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T20:12:51.821-06:00</updated><title type='text'>JON is taking over my life...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vYnAzLmJsb2dnZXIuY29tL19ieDEwOHRsZmpVSS9SOUNqeHFLSGhrSS9BQUFBQUFBQUFpMC9XZFFhTnhLSDVkcy9zMTYwMC1oL2pvbi5qcGc="&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174816045374342722" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R9CjxqKHhkI/AAAAAAAAAi0/WdQaNxKH5ds/s400/jon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus of Nazareth the Passion Play with Producers and Directors Steve &amp; Melodye Munsey is here. Jesus of Nazareth is a moving experience for the entire family. You will be on the edge of your seat as Roman soldier’s march before you and John the Baptist preaches of our coming King. This is your opportunity to Witness the life death and the resurrection of Our Lord and Savior as our Producer tell us this story with live Animals, Broadway sounds and Stunning special effects. You will be wowed and amazed as this true story unfolds before you!. So invite your family and friends to the ultimate story ever told. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus of Nazareth show dates are as follow: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, March 15, 2 Shows 12PM and 3PM &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Friday, March 21, at 7:30PM &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, March 22, 2 Shows 12PM and 3PM &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, March 29, 2 Shows 12PM and 3PM &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, April 5, 2 shows 12PM and 3PM &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For more information call the ticket booth at: &lt;br /&gt;(219) 922 -6500 ext 580 or visit us at: &lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3Lmplc3Vzb2ZuYXphcmV0aC5vcmc="&gt;www. jesusofnazareth. org&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-7731319460788222781?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/7731319460788222781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=7731319460788222781&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7731319460788222781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7731319460788222781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/02/jon-is-taking-over-my-life.html' title='JON is taking over my life...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R9CjxqKHhkI/AAAAAAAAAi0/WdQaNxKH5ds/s72-c/jon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-5768106218039180502</id><published>2008-03-03T18:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T20:39:33.588-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Superman's disguise is Clark Kent</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R8y1pe6GywI/AAAAAAAAAik/Yoh93LHjUrM/s1600-h/odessabootbabyphat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173709796217899778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R8y1pe6GywI/AAAAAAAAAik/Yoh93LHjUrM/s400/odessabootbabyphat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was watching one of my favorite movies&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Kill&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Bill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt; and Bill said something very interesting. He said &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Superman's disguise was Clark Kent..."&lt;/span&gt; Now when you think about it, he was right. Superman is the only superhero that was born with his special powers and everyone else was either bitten, blasted by some ray or simply has his weapons made in a secret lab. This made me think. Do we wear disguises that hide who we really are?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I called one of my girlfriends today to tell her about this guy that I met while in rehearsal for &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Jesus of Nazareth(passion play 2008)&lt;/span&gt;. The guy in question &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(who's name is being withheld)&lt;/span&gt; is unlike any other guy I would normally find attractive. Now he is very good looking, but he is a little weird somehow. He is one of those tall light skinned brothers that lately are not my cup of tea, but there is something about him. When he enters the room I lose my breath. When he speaks I hang on his every word. I want to know what he's thinking. I want to know what makes him laugh, and what makes him sad. This guy captures my full attention, and it scares me. Have you ever followed a person out of the room, then get disappointed when they are no longer in eye view and you can't see them anymore? That is how I feel when he comes and goes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since I can remember I have never been the type of girl that would just walk up to man and ask him out, or even the time for that matter. I simply can not do it. Just the mere thought of walking up to man &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(I find attractive)&lt;/span&gt; and asking him to have coffee or whatever, freaks me out. I don't believe in approaching men in the first place, but even if I did believe in it, is it the right thing to do? When it comes to matters of the heart, should a woman approach a man? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now because of this phobia, my girlfriend made the comment that perhaps I am not being myself, and the real me might not have a problem asking this man or any other man out for that matter. Which leads me to the first point I made about Superman. Is my hesitation towards men really my disguise? Could I have this other side&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt; (my true side)&lt;/span&gt; that is strong and assertive when it comes to men? I for one say &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"hecks naw"&lt;/span&gt; I can't even imagine myself being any other way then the way I am now. It sort of makes me laugh to think of what I would even say to him if I were given the opportunity. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;...wavy screen and violin music...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Hello *******"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Hey how are you?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"I'm good how are you?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"I'm good. &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(touching my hair)&lt;/span&gt; I like this hairstyle. Looks nice on you."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Thank you."&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt; (twisting one strand of hair around my finger)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"What's up?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Well, I was hoping I would catch you before rehearsal starts. &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(moving in closer to him)&lt;/span&gt; what are you doing after rehearsal?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Nothing much, I might grab something to eat...why what's up?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Well how about we grab something to eat together."&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt; (spoken with an assertive tone of voice)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Sounds good to me sweetheart."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Then it's a date..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Yes, it's a date."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(and I walk off with the meanest strut put on a pair of Baby Phat Odessa boots)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;...wavy screen and violin music...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I wish! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-5768106218039180502?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/5768106218039180502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=5768106218039180502&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5768106218039180502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/5768106218039180502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/03/supermans-disguise-is-clark-kent.html' title='Superman&apos;s disguise is Clark Kent'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R8y1pe6GywI/AAAAAAAAAik/Yoh93LHjUrM/s72-c/odessabootbabyphat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-1038385819405958152</id><published>2008-03-03T15:00:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T15:33:18.917-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Celibacy Blues</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R8xsTNNiUXI/AAAAAAAAAic/JTrY5Wg2ZIs/s1600-h/lust.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173629149161607538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R8xsTNNiUXI/AAAAAAAAAic/JTrY5Wg2ZIs/s400/lust.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"This here celibacy thing/Lawd, just got something over me/Like an addict, I could really use a thing/You know what I'm talking about/Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah/It's been hard to sleep at night/And ying ying ying ying ain't/Scratching it right/I get some new batteries almost every night/Lawd, this here celibacy thing/The stresses of this world/You know how they come down on a girl/I'm trying to clear my mind/But all I seem to find/Is this gangsta, gangsta, type of need/People say mind over matter/But, I don't mind what they say/And it don't matter/This here celibacy thing/Is working on me..." Jill Scott&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You ain't lying Jill! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/14413585-1038385819405958152?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/1038385819405958152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=1038385819405958152&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1038385819405958152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/1038385819405958152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/03/celibacy-blues.html' title='Celibacy Blues'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R8xsTNNiUXI/AAAAAAAAAic/JTrY5Wg2ZIs/s72-c/lust.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-6028314733053049336</id><published>2008-02-22T16:21:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T16:37:04.354-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beast...I'll take Gary Dourdan!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R79OM0r5WeI/AAAAAAAAAiI/s_MHEnjCUpc/s1600-h/gd2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169936879452772834" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R79OM0r5WeI/AAAAAAAAAiI/s_MHEnjCUpc/s400/gd2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You could give me a kiss, that would sizzle to the core; yet I'd not be appeased if you gave me a dozen more.You could hold me close to warm this heart of red yet you'd find that my desire had not fled.You could visit me at night and please me with your touch. yet come the dawn, I'd want you just as much.You could try something old, or something new and improved, yet my hunger for you could never be removed.You could kiss me, hold me, and vow your love so true, but no matter what you do, I'll never get enough of you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Never Enough of You," Bobette Bryan, 2000&lt;br /&gt;_______________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well as it is apparently clear, I am very much battling the (sexual) "Beast" right about now. This has been a very emotional week and weekend for me. One of my dear &lt;span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00"&gt;girlfriends &lt;/span&gt;used the term 'Hormonal' although she was talking about something totally different, I had to agree with her, and used it to identify my current situation. Sex is one of the most emotion filled things humans do on the face of the earth, and when it's done right, it can have a lasting impression on a person that will (at some point) take over the mind and send it spinning. I found myself thinking about past sexual encounters and tasting that pleasure as if it were that day and time all over again. It's amazing how the mind works. It's like a computer as it can recall info that was supposed to be deleted from the hard drive. It's like a rash that no matter how much Hydro you put on it, it still has the tendency to itch. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of my girlfriends said the other day that, 'sex was her drug of choice...' so for her sex is all she needs to get as high as a kite. It's fulfills her, it drives her, it embodies her every desire she craves. I was talking to a guy friend of mine this week about how sex seems to be on our minds now more then ever these days...not for one another for he is gay, but period. He called himself a nympho maniac and I had to agree. Not just as far a he was concerned, but as far as I was concerned as well. It seems as though a day is not going by that I don't think about that three letter word (as Jamie Foxx so eloquently put it)&lt;br /&gt;My girl Bobbie hooked up with a male flight attendant on last night and gave a whole new meaning to the word "friendly skies" as per the msg I heard on my voice mail this morning. Leave it to her to do something outrageous in mid flight. Char is 'getting right' with her Mr. Right, every night this week according to our lunch date on Tuesday, as I talked about JON rehearsal, she sprang forth every other sentence with how much sex she is getting these days. And Rosie can't seem to 'get enough' exercise and her instructor these days...can't blame her though he is definitely HOT! As for me I can only reminisce for I have vowed to do things the right way this time around....with the one that is. And I am praying that a certain &lt;span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00"&gt;JON actor&lt;/span&gt; is that 'one'....*cheese* Kind of makes you wonder though...Is Sex stronger than Love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;U.W.R.A:) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-6028314733053049336?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/6028314733053049336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=6028314733053049336&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6028314733053049336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/6028314733053049336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/02/beastill-take-gary-dourdan.html' title='The Beast...I&apos;ll take Gary Dourdan!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R79OM0r5WeI/AAAAAAAAAiI/s_MHEnjCUpc/s72-c/gd2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-7969466037455803390</id><published>2008-01-26T13:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T13:36:14.729-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Healing from My Pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5uLaQHr5aI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/TPGP3KLgYEM/s1600-h/conquer.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159871081203099042" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5uLaQHr5aI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/TPGP3KLgYEM/s320/conquer.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psalms 92&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a beautiful thing, God, to give thanks, to sing an anthem to you, the High God! To announce your love each daybreak, sing your faithful presence all through the night, Accompanied by dulcimer and harp, the full-bodied music of strings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You made me so happy, God. I saw your work, and I shouted for joy. How magnifcent your work, God! How profound your thoughts! Dullards never notice what you do; fools never do get it. When the wicked popped up like weeds and all the evil men and women took over, You mowed them down, finished them off once and for all. You, God, are High and Eternal. Look at your enemies, God! Look at your enemies -ruined! Scattered to the winds, all those hirelings of evil!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you've made me strong as a charging bison, you've honored me with a festive parade. The sigh t of my critics going down is still fresh, the rout of my malicious detractors. My ears are filled with the sounds of promise: "Good people will prosper like palm trees, Grow tall like Lebanon cedars; transplanted to God's courtyard, They'll grow tall in the presence of God, lithe and green, virile still in old age."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such witnesses to upright God! My Mountain. My huge, holy Mountain!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Current mood: numb&lt;br /&gt;Until We Read Again,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deirdre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-7969466037455803390?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/7969466037455803390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=7969466037455803390&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7969466037455803390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/7969466037455803390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/01/healing-from-my-pain.html' title='Healing from My Pain'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5uLaQHr5aI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/TPGP3KLgYEM/s72-c/conquer.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8871984990064855688</id><published>2008-01-24T00:09:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T15:48:58.192-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Build Me A Road Dear...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5kFDQHr5VI/AAAAAAAAAgo/pZuipVhrNv4/s1600-h/REDCHAIR.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159160401554564434" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5kFDQHr5VI/AAAAAAAAAgo/pZuipVhrNv4/s320/REDCHAIR.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;So I am crying my eyes out yet again, but it's not over some guy...thank God! These tears stem from the pain I have endured from the words and actions of my Mother. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Hello my name is Deirdre and my Mother has a gambling problem" Whew! It does feel better when you let it out. For as long as I can remember my Mother has had a gambling addiction. As a child it was cards and poker games on the weekends with her loud and crazy friends. Then as I became an adult it turned into Casino's and Online slot machines. I can remember as a child when we had to live from friend to friend and in the back of someone's record shop. Then when we finally managed to get our own place, we moved so much that people thought we were spys or&lt;br /&gt;some mess. I can remember living in about 8 different apartments growing up. As a child/pre-teen I really didn't understand what to make of it all. It was difficult to say the least, but I managed to become a peaceful adult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the early part of my adult life I had to take care of things that most young adults shouldn't have to worry about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;That time in my life was supposed to be my college years and my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;exploration period, but instead I spent that time making sure my family &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;didn't get put out on the streets. My Mother would neglect the bills and I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;(with help at times from my sister) would have to pay past due light bills and gas bills. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I remember times of buying bottled water to warm on the stove just wash up. I remember doing homework by candle light, and using 3 or 4 blankets just to keep warm. It was rough, but instead of making her feel bad I took what money I had and paid bills that she would neglect. I got a 2nd job to pay back rent and never said a word to her about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Now fast forward to the present. My Mother's behavior has only gotten increasingly worst and with it comes hurt, pain and resentment. She has lived with both my sister and I rent free to several years and has nothing to show for it. Did I mention she was still working all that time, because she was. My Mother just retired in Dec of 07 and has nothing to show for her 40 year dedication to the work force. Nothing saved, nothing planned and nothing to leave. How does a person retire and have nowhere to live? My Mother was living with my sister for the past 2 years, and got a winfall of financial blessings bestowed upon her during that time. Ask me where it went and I would have one guess. My heart and soul tells me what she did with that winfall, but there is a side of me that wants to believe she has not sunk deeper into her addiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;In May of 07 my job pulled a super whammy on me by selling the company and laying us off. It was rough and still is but God has been keeping me. I was collecting my unemployment and recently started some temping work but as you must know, that is just not enough. My car note is behind and my Mother is the co-signer. Here comes the drama. Even when I was collecting unemployment I was paying my car note on time every month. I never asked her for a single dime, and now when I need her the most she has the nerve to call me irresponsible and lazy! She tells me that if she pays this months car note she wants the car...can you believe that?!?! I pay the note for a year and 7 months by myself and she thinks when she makes one payment she can take the car! Wow! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Then after much yelling on her part I am then called a lying bitch. Well needless to say I was and still am very upset, hurt and shocked by these current events. I believe what the scripture says about honoring your Mother and Father, and I have done that my whole life, so I have no regrets when it comes to how I have treated my Mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I was so hurt that I txt a longtime guy friend of mine hoping he would say something to make me feel better and he did. It was like he really wanted to make the hurt go away. I was glad he was willing to listen to me...I needed that right then. It reminded me of how much love I have&lt;br /&gt;for him and how I admire and respect him. I wanted to write him a letter but couldn't find the right words. Then this song came to mind and it says it all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;"My love, been such a long long time. One day I always knew I'd hear from you again. Well I'm sorry to find you're having such hard times, but you thought of me in your time of need so I say. Build me a road dear and I will come running. No matter how long or how hard it may be. I have a light from your love dear to guide me. I promise I'll be there whenever you need me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Who'd of thought it would ever come to this. One last letter, but no one last kiss. When the seasons go by, your on my mind baby. I long one day to be with you, so I say. Build me a road dear and I will come running. No matter how long or how hard it may be. I have a light from your love dear to guide me. I promise I'll be there, whenever you need me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;You promised me. I promised you. The love for one another was true. But somewhere in time, we went on with our lives. Now the roads so far apart. To far to make a start. Too long to make an end. I must see you again. So build me a road dear and I will come running. Now matter how&lt;br /&gt;long or how hard it may be. I have a light from your love dear to guide me. I promise I'll be there, whenever you need me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Wherever you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Wherever you are. Wherever you are. Wherever you are....."&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;T. Ellis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;....Thank you "T"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Until we read again,&lt;br /&gt;Deirdre&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-8871984990064855688?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8871984990064855688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8871984990064855688&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8871984990064855688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8871984990064855688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/01/build-me-road-dear.html' title='Build Me A Road Dear...'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5kFDQHr5VI/AAAAAAAAAgo/pZuipVhrNv4/s72-c/REDCHAIR.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-569515878040869987</id><published>2008-01-21T00:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T00:17:04.233-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrate With Peace</title><content type='html'>*All Info provided by &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QxTQjJFFI/AAAAAAAAAgI/Z07odUKFIaQ/s1600-h/chin.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157801680175699026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QxTQjJFFI/AAAAAAAAAgI/Z07odUKFIaQ/s320/chin.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Wikipedia" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt; *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also check out: &lt;a href="http://sidekickaddicted.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://sidekickaddicted.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt; for the "I Have A Dream Speech"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Martin L. King Jr. Day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Current mood: blessed Category: &lt;a href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.viewCategory&amp;amp;FriendID=226816534&amp;amp;BlogCategoryID=21"&gt;Religion and Philosophy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QssAjJFDI/AAAAAAAAAf4/9cXKwSGRgVU/s1600-h/hotel.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QswgjJFEI/AAAAAAAAAgA/FKq5vpLJjAw/s1600-h/grave.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QsmgjJFCI/AAAAAAAAAfw/ybcVil8Yc8Q/s1600-h/chin.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Martin Luther King, Jr., (January 15, 1929-April 4, 1968) was born Michael Luther King, Jr., but later had his name changed to Martin. His grandfather began the family's long tenure as pastors of the Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, serving from 1914 to 1931; his father has served from then until the present, and from 1960 until his death Martin Luther acted as co-pastor. Martin Luther attended segregated public schools in Georgia, graduating from high school at the age of fifteen; he received the B. A. degree in 1948 from Morehouse College, a distinguished Negro institution of Atlanta from which both his father and grandfather had graduated. After three years of theological study at Crozer Theological Seminary in Pennsylvania where he was elected president of a predominantly white senior class, he was awarded the B.D. in 1951.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a fellowship won at Crozer, he enrolled in graduate studies at Boston University, completing his residence for the doctorate in 1953 and receiving the degree in 1955. In Boston he met and married Coretta Scott, a young woman of uncommon intellectual and artistic attainments. Two sons and two daughters were born into the family. In 1954, Martin Luther King accepted the pastorale of the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama. Always a strong worker for civil rights for members of his race, King was, by this time, a member of the executive committee of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the leading organization of its kind in the nation. He was ready, then, early in December, 1955, to accept the leadership of the first great Negro nonviolent demonstration of contemporary times in the United States, the bus boycott described by Gunnar Jahn in his presentation speech in honor of the laureate. The boycott lasted 382 days. On December 21, 1956, after the Supreme Court of the United States had declared unconstitutional the laws requiring segregation on buses, Negroes and whites rode the buses as equals. During these days of boycott, King was arrested, his home was bombed, he was subjected to personal abuse, but at the same time he emerged as a Negro leader of the first rank. In 1957 he was elected president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, an organization formed to provide new leadership for the now burgeoning civil rights movement. The ideals for this organization he took from Christianity; its operational techniques from Gandhi. In the eleven-year period between 1957 and 1968, King traveled over six million miles and spoke over twenty-five hundred times, appearing wherever there was injustice, protest, and action; and meanwhile he wrote five books as well as numerous articles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In these years, he led a massive protest in Birmingham, Alabama, that caught the attention of the entire world, providing what he called a coalition of conscience. and inspiring his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail", a manifesto of the Negro revolution; he planned the drives in Alabama for the registration of Negroes as voters; he directed the peaceful march on Washington, D.C., of 250,000 people to whom he delivered his address, "l Have a Dream", he conferred with President John F. Kennedy and campaigned for President Lyndon B. Johnson; he was arrested upwards of twenty times and assaulted at least four times; he was awarded five honorary degrees; was named Man of the Year by Time magazine in 1963; and became not only the symbolic leader of American blacks but also a world figure. At the age of thirty-five, Martin Luther King, Jr., was the youngest man to have received the Nobel Peace Prize. When notified of his selection, he announced that he would turn over the prize money of $54,123 to the furtherance of the civil rights movement. On the evening of April 4, 1968, while standing on the balcony of his motel room in Memphis, Tennessee, where he was to lead a protest march in sympathy with striking garbage workers of that city, he was assassinated. In late March 1968, King went to Memphis, Tennessee in support of the black sanitary public works employees, represented by AFSCME Local 1733, who had been on strike since March 12 for higher wages and better treatment. (For example, African American workers, unlike white workers, were not paid when sent home because of inclement weather.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QxcAjJFGI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/ABMlrfqRLf8/s1600-h/hotel.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157801830499554402" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QxcAjJFGI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/ABMlrfqRLf8/s320/hotel.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On April 3, King returned to Memphis and addressed a rally, delivering his "I've been to the Mountaintop" address at Mason Temple (Church of God in Christ, Inc. - World Headquarters). King's flight to Memphis had been delayed by a bomb threat against his plane. In the close of the last speech of his career, in reference to the bomb threat, King said the following: "And then I got to Memphis. And some began to say the threats, or talk about the threats that were out. What would happen to me from some of our sick white brothers? Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord." King was booked in room 306 at the Lorraine Motel, owned by Walter Bailey, in Memphis. Reverend Ralph Abernathy, King's close friend and colleague who was present at the assassination, swore under oath to the HSCA that King and his entourage stayed at room 306 at the Lorraine Motel so often it was known as the 'King-Abernathy suite.' While standing on the motel's 2nd floor balcony, King was shot at 6:01 p.m. April 4, 1968. The bullet entered through his right cheek smashing his jaw and then traveling down his spinal cord before lodging in his shoulder. According to biographer Taylor Branch, King's last words on the balcony were to musician Ben Branch (no relation to Taylor Branch) who was scheduled to perform that night at an event King was attending: "Ben, make sure you play Take My Hand, Precious Lord in the meeting tonight. Play it real pretty." Friends inside the motel room heard the shots and ran to the balcony to find King on the ground. Local Rev. Samuel "Billy" Kyles, whose house King was on his way to, remembers that upon seeing King go down he ran into a hotel room to call an ambulance. Nobody was on the switchboard, so Kyles ran back out and yelled to the police to get one on their radios. It was later revealed that the hotel switchboard operator, upon seeing King shot, had had a fatal heart attack and could not operate the phones. King was pronounced dead at St. Joseph's Hospital at 7:05 p.m. The assassination led to a nationwide wave of riots in more than 60 cities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five days later, President Lyndon B. Johnson declared a national day of mourning for the lost civil rights leader. A crowd of 300,000 attended his funeral that same day. Vice-President Hubert Humphrey attended on behalf of Lyndon B. Johnson, who was holding a meeting on the Vietnam War at Camp David. (There were fears that Johnson might be hit with protests and abuses over the war if he attended.) At his widow's request, King eulogized himself: his last sermon at Ebenezer Baptist Church, a recording of his famous 'Drum Major' sermon, given on February 4, 1968, was played at the funeral. In that sermon he makes a request that at his funeral no mention of his awards and honors be made, but that it be said that he tried to "feed the hungry", "clothe the naked", "be right on the [Vietnam] war question", and "love and serve humanity". Per King's request, his good friend Mahalia Jackson sang his favorite hymn, "Take My hand, Precious Lord" at his funeral. According to biographer Taylor Branch, King's autopsy revealed that though he was only 39 years old, he had the heart of a 60 year old man, evidencing the stress the 13 years in the civil rights movement had on him. The city quickly settled the strike, on favorable terms, after the assassination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QxmQjJFHI/AAAAAAAAAgY/gkFfuB22_5k/s1600-h/grave.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157802006593213554" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QxmQjJFHI/AAAAAAAAAgY/gkFfuB22_5k/s320/grave.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two months after King's death, escaped convict James Earl Ray was captured at London Heathrow Airport while trying to leave the United Kingdom on a false Canadian passport in the name of Ramon George Sneyd. Ray was quickly extradited to Tennessee and charged with King's murder, confessing to the assassination on March 10, 1969 (though he recanted this confession three days later). Martin Luther King's tomb now with his wife Coretta Scott King. On the advice of his attorney Percy Foreman, Ray took a guilty plea to avoid a trial conviction and thus the possibility of receiving the death penalty. Ray was sentenced to a 99-year prison term. Ray fired Foreman as his attorney (from then on derisively calling him "Percy Fourflusher") claiming that a man he met in Montreal, Canada with the alias "Raoul" was involved, as was his brother Johnny, but not himself, further asserting that although he did not "personally shoot King," he may have been "partially responsible without knowing it," hinting at a conspiracy. He spent the remainder of his life attempting (unsuccessfully) to withdraw his guilty plea and secure the trial he never had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On June 10, 1977, shortly after Ray had testified to the House Select Committee on Assassinations that he did not shoot King, he and six other convicts escaped from Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary in Petros, Tennessee. They were recaptured on June 13 and returned to prison.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Celebrate With Knowledge and Peace.&lt;br /&gt;Until We Read Again,&lt;br /&gt;Deirdre Edwina&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QswgjJFEI/AAAAAAAAAgA/FKq5vpLJjAw/s1600-h/grave.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-569515878040869987?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/569515878040869987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=569515878040869987&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/569515878040869987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/569515878040869987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/01/celebrate-with-peace.html' title='Celebrate With Peace'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5QxTQjJFFI/AAAAAAAAAgI/Z07odUKFIaQ/s72-c/chin.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-354694762588897756</id><published>2008-01-20T11:08:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T11:08:33.049-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Godson Kem!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5OAEQjJE9I/AAAAAAAAAfI/Arp7lGdFUNY/s1600-h/IMG00152-713051.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5OAEQjJE9I/AAAAAAAAAfI/Arp7lGdFUNY/s320/IMG00152-713051.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157606808919544786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5OAEgjJE-I/AAAAAAAAAfQ/mOlJu5Lz3so/s1600-h/IMG00151-714123.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5OAEgjJE-I/AAAAAAAAAfQ/mOlJu5Lz3so/s320/IMG00151-714123.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157606813214512098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5OAEgjJE_I/AAAAAAAAAfY/7NLpr0WCvok/s1600-h/IMG00149-714766.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5OAEgjJE_I/AAAAAAAAAfY/7NLpr0WCvok/s320/IMG00149-714766.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157606813214512114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5OAEwjJFAI/AAAAAAAAAfg/D0F-d4y1gxY/s1600-h/IMG00150-715544.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5OAEwjJFAI/AAAAAAAAAfg/D0F-d4y1gxY/s320/IMG00150-715544.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157606817509479426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I just had to post these photos of the lil Man of God in the molding. I &lt;br&gt;never met such a good baby. He eats when he is supposed to eat. Sleeps &lt;br&gt;when he is supposed to sleep, and only attempts a slight whimper when &lt;br&gt;he&amp;#39;s wet. His parents couldn&amp;#39;t have asked for a more wonderful and &lt;br&gt;Blessed child. Had to share this.&lt;br&gt;Until we read again,&lt;br&gt;Deirdre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-354694762588897756?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/354694762588897756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=354694762588897756&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/354694762588897756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/354694762588897756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-godson-kem.html' title='My Godson Kem!'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R5OAEQjJE9I/AAAAAAAAAfI/Arp7lGdFUNY/s72-c/IMG00152-713051.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-725063495185138466</id><published>2008-01-17T04:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T04:49:10.935-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Deirdre Is:</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R48ypwjJE8I/AAAAAAAAAfA/sstUIM2NqxY/s1600-h/IMG00148-750937.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R48ypwjJE8I/AAAAAAAAAfA/sstUIM2NqxY/s320/IMG00148-750937.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156395791350830018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Tired of being lonely at night.&lt;br&gt;Thinking about what Evolution really means.&lt;br&gt;Making excuses for people instead of dealing with them head-on.&lt;br&gt;Hates how her relationship with her Mother is turning out.&lt;br&gt;Thinking it&amp;#39;s been long enough.&lt;br&gt;Thinking too much really.&lt;br&gt;Wanting more out of life.&lt;br&gt;Hoping for bigger and better things this year.&lt;br&gt;Missing her Father finally.&lt;br&gt;Upset he made the discission he made when she was 17.&lt;br&gt;Not going to hold a grudge anymore though.&lt;br&gt;Masturbating too much these days.&lt;br&gt;Afraid she will go blind.&lt;br&gt;Laughing her butt off!&lt;br&gt;Not prepared for the future at all&lt;br&gt;Sick of games and mind tricks.&lt;br&gt;Just as screwed up as the next chick.&lt;br&gt;Still hurting from the past.&lt;br&gt;Grateful for second chances.&lt;br&gt;Starting to catch another cold.&lt;br&gt;Up at 3:46am and wants to go to sleep.&lt;br&gt;Regreting that day spent with Mike.&lt;br&gt;Sorry if that hurts his feelings.&lt;br&gt;Tired of being taking advantage of.&lt;br&gt;Wanting to start a family of her own.&lt;br&gt;Always right even though she&amp;#39;s wrong.&lt;br&gt;About to have a nervous breakdown!&lt;br&gt;In love with someone who doesn&amp;#39;t love her back.&lt;br&gt;Losing her hair around the edges.&lt;br&gt;Stressing out over dumb stuff.&lt;br&gt;Eating too much.&lt;br&gt;Crying too much.&lt;br&gt;Sleeping too much.&lt;br&gt;In way over her head.&lt;br&gt;Takin a moment to breathe.&lt;br&gt;Reading The Plural Thing by Linda Dominque Grosvenor.&lt;br&gt;Reaching for the Unreachable.&lt;br&gt;Believing the Impossible.&lt;br&gt;Making time for herself.&lt;br&gt;Getting her grown on.&lt;br&gt;Thinking about part 2.......&lt;p&gt;Until we read again,&lt;br&gt;Deirdre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14413585-725063495185138466?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/725063495185138466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=725063495185138466&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/725063495185138466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/725063495185138466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/01/deirdre-is.html' title='Deirdre Is:'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R48ypwjJE8I/AAAAAAAAAfA/sstUIM2NqxY/s72-c/IMG00148-750937.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-3823707676277125613</id><published>2008-01-16T14:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T14:50:31.113-06:00</updated><title type='text'>THE RIGHT ONE</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*Note: this one is long, but worth the read*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When choosing a Mate or Your Mate choosing you...First we must allow our Heavenly Father to do the picking. And second, the decision for a mate must be made on a spiritual and intellectual basis before it's made on an emotional one. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"What about love? Shouldn't that be the third? you ask. No, and I'll tell you why. "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? (Jeremiah 17:9).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The heart is willful and is driven by its own agenda. It does not consider things rationally and intelligently it just loves to love! Therefore you have to point it in the right direction: &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the well spring of life" (Proverbs 4:23)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you meet a man, you need to get clearance from God, check out his attributes, and then allow your heart to engage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Dating exists not for mating; it exists for collecting data.&lt;/span&gt; I believe that the biblical design would be &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;friendship, courtship and then marriage&lt;/span&gt;. Friendship is two people walking together in agreement and accountability, learning and growing together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Courtship follows the mutual agreement to commit to one another exclusively&lt;/span&gt; - it is the decisive turning toward the agreed-upon goal of the marriage altar. It is a period of laying a fou ndation and preparing your life together after marriage.But dating? Well, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;if you do date, use the time wisely to gather these facts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; Check out the fabric&lt;/span&gt;. Is the person mate material? Does this man have an intimate relationship with the Father through Jesus Christ? Does he care what God thinks about his behavior? Is he accountable to God as well as another co-laborer in the faith? &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Accountability is an important factor. It is imperative to maintaining a committed relationship&lt;/span&gt;. Is your potential spouse a member of the same family - the family of God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;You need to have common interests and values and agree on the essentials of living day to day.&lt;/span&gt; You have a similar spiritual walk. You eat the same spiritual diet. You enjoy a lot of similar things. You have like interests, like goals in life, like opinions on basic life issues.You have had like experiences in your background. Though there is some truth to the idiom that opposites attract, like-minded folks fare better together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Furthermore, does he want to get married? &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;If you want to be married and your dreamboat isn't interested, don't waste your time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Remember, women fall in love and get married. Men decide to get married and then look for a wife.&lt;/span&gt; Note the difference in order. So if a guy says he's not looking for anything serious, take his words seriously. If he's not going in your direction, get off the bus and wait for the right one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Does this man want you? Is he pursuing you? &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The man who is right for you will pursue you, and God's hand in the relationship will be clear.&lt;/span&gt; No guessing, no fleeces, no dead ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Scripture says: "He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the Lord" (Proverbs 18:22).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; Note -who finds whom? THE MAN FINDS THE WIFE.&lt;/span&gt; From the beginning of time, God has transported men and women across the world in order to put them together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the RIGHT TIME, He will bring that man on the scene and he will find you. In God's perfect design, the man is the one who recognizes his mate. Adam had no problem recognizing that Eve was his missing rib. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;You do not need to strategically place yourself anywhere. You don't have to help a guy out because he's shy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Men will do whatever they have to do to get what they truly want.&lt;/span&gt; The man in your life should recognize you as the pearl of great price in his life and be willing to do whatever he must in order to gain your hand. If he is passive about gaining your affections, take it as a sign that he is not interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many a woman's mother has suggested that it is a good idea to marry a man who loves you more than you love him. As cold as that sounds, it actually might be scriptural if you stop to think about it: &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"We love him because he first loved us" (1 John 4:19).&lt;/span&gt; Until then, take the ultimate chill pill . You don't need a bunch of men in your life to make you feel all right about yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;You need only one man - your man,&lt;/span&gt; the one God has selected to select you. And trust me, the right man at the wrong time can be just as awful as the wrong man at any time. So trust God's timing in this. He is the ultimate matchmaker. Relax, sit pretty and allow yourself to be found. Again - &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;WAIT&lt;/span&gt; until the man voices his intentions. He should take the lead in establishing the relationship. You may have an inkling that he is the one, but God will use the man to set the tone of the relationship. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Allow him the opportunity to woo you&lt;/span&gt; - this is your first act of submission. Jesus set the standard for all men to follow. They should love us first. And they should lead the relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The man in your life should not desire to move into your house, only into your heart .&lt;/span&gt; A man who prepares for your future has made his intentions clear. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A man who is husband material has the means to take care of a wife. &lt;/span&gt;He is a responsible human being who understands he needs to have something to offer. In short, a man should have the means to be a suitable lover for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Check out his buddies. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Everyone knows birds of the same feather flock together, yet most women fail to see the connection between a man and his friends.&lt;/span&gt; A man's pals tell you a lot about the person that you haven't seen yet. They reveal things about the guy's character that might be hidden when he is on good behavior. Everyone knows how to put his best foot forward. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Don't stay focused on the foot, check out the rest of the body!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Check out his relationship with his mother. How does he treat her? This is your preview of how he will treat you. There are lots of men who, because of a negative relationship with their mothers, really don't like women, yet say they do. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Unresolved issues between mother and son continue between husband and wife.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Remember that a man's family reveals the cloth from which he's cut.&lt;/span&gt; Take note and decide whether you want your future with the man in your life to look like his present family situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Check out the patterns of his life.&lt;/span&gt; Do you see repeated cycles of drama in his personal kingdom? Broken relationships? Problems in making commitments --including the job market? Mood swings? Is a problem always someone else's fault? Does he embrace responsibility or shirk it? Does he keep his promises? Is he a man of good reputation? &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Remember all garments look wonderful hanging in the store, but with wear, some begin to unravel. &lt;/span&gt;Give yourself time and space to check out the man in your life. Time will always reveal whether or not he is made of the right stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Does this man have a vision for his life? Is he running with that vision? &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Remember, God decided Adam needed help once Adam got busy DOING his assignment.&lt;/span&gt; As we saw Adam, a man doesn't need help until he is busy doing what he was created and called to do. Is the man in your life guided by sense of destiny and purpose, or does he just allow life to happen around him? A man who is not certain of his mission can be a most miserable person - and you'll be miserable too if you know where &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;YOU&lt;/span&gt; want to go in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A man who has vision is not intimidated by a woman whose mission statement is clear.&lt;/span&gt; He will be your best ally, cheerleader and assistant because he wants you both to make it! A man who cannot be supportive of your achievements because he is floundering in a sea of uncertainty over his own life is not a healthy partner to have and to hold forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Creating dependencies or feelings of obligation is not the way to get the best out of your man.&lt;/span&gt; Somewhere along the way, he will resent you and flee from the smothering burden of obligation he associates you with. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;You want a man who is firmly anchored in his identity in Christ. Remember, we are looking for a man who will be priest and leader of his home.&lt;/span&gt; His first instinct should be to want to cover you, redeem you, and provide for you. Your job is to decide if this is the man God has ordained for you to complement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Complimentary. Do your talents and gifts complement his? Do his gifts, compliment yours?&lt;/span&gt; What about your temperaments? Do you see the two of you as an effective team capable of bringing blessing to the lives of those around you? Do your futures mesh? Can you coordinate your gifts in an attractive and effective way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why knowing your purpose is so important. Make sure your hearts beat for mutual causes. When I go shopping I always consider the fabric, the fit and what I already have in my closet. Will my next purchase be a complimentary addition to what I already have? If I find that I am going to have to buy shoes and matching accessories to go with a new outfit, I leave it right on the rack. It is too expensive a proposition. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;If the man you meet makes you feel that you need to completely reinvent yourself, something is wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where I ask you to consider the relationship in terms of cost. Is this relationship expensive spiritually, emotional or physically? Does your longing for a mate make you willing to forfeit who you are in the process? Or does he see you as the gift that you are? &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The man in your life should consider you a rare find, a priceless jewel-because of you he is getting ready to get blessed big-time! &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Any relationship that causes you to feel unworthy, unlovely, unacceptable, undesirable or that you have to work for love, is too expensive!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;God has called the man to cover, protect and provide not only materially for a woman, but emotionally and spiritually as well.&lt;/span&gt; You should be richer in mind, body and spirit for your union with the man of your dreams. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The man in your life should make rich deposits into your heart and spirit, not withdrawals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Does he have a healthy love and acceptance of himself? Make sure the man in your life has taken time to heal from past relationships and has made peace with himself. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;How he cares for himself is how he will care for you. A man's relationship with God is crucial here.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;His love for himself will only be as strong as his love for God. &lt;/span&gt;This is not something that you can impart. You cannot be his savior or teacher. That is out of spiritual order. In his rightful place as your personal priest,&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; he should be leading you to a richer relationship with Christ.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;If he is causing you to compromise your faith and destabilize your walk, if he is leading you into sexual sin or causing you to be distracted from your commitment to God, the relationship is too expensive&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; Offending the Lover of your soul, who promises you eternal love, is too high a fare to pay for a ride that has a limited run. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;If you and your man can't soar in the Spirit, when the force of your love for another is tested by the pull or gravity of the world, your union will not be able to survive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when you decide. How much is your life worth? How much is your love worth? You will be able to accept only what you believe you deserve. God himself calculated the worth of your love and decided it was worth His life. He now pledges you His love for eternity. Yes, Jesus sets the example for all others to follow when He paid a ransom for His bride. Should you expect less from a mortal man? &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Throughout the Biblical age, men were willing to pay the cost for what they truly desired. The truth of the matter is everyone knows that anything worth having, costs and no one gets a ride in this life for free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Our prayer:&lt;br /&gt;Dear Heavenly Father God,&lt;br /&gt;I me. I ask that You take over this area of my life. Keep me from those You know would hurt my heart. I invite You to set a hedge around me and keep me from all who would draw me into unfruitful relationships until the day you present me to the mate that You have selected for me. Grant me the discernment to recognize him as he recognizes me. Cleanse me from the temptation to typecast the men I meet according to what I see. Help me to trust in Your knowledge and lean not on my own understanding. I know that You know what is best for me; therefore I yield to Your choice.&lt;br /&gt;In Jesus' Name.&lt;br /&gt;Amen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&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/14413585-3823707676277125613?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/3823707676277125613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=3823707676277125613&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3823707676277125613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/3823707676277125613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/01/right-one.html' title='THE RIGHT ONE'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8586790457930848616</id><published>2008-01-09T13:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T14:11:39.147-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Colors of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;W&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;hat do you do when the phone rings and it's not him? What happens when a txt msg comes thru and u wish it was him? I wrote a poem about it, wanna hear it? Here it go...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R4UqIAjJE0I/AAAAAAAAAeA/ex_kerUscPU/s1600-h/Sunset.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153571665670116162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R4UqIAjJE0I/AAAAAAAAAeA/ex_kerUscPU/s320/Sunset.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;hot are my feelings for him. I think about him all the time.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;Yellow&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;is the sun when it comes up in the morning and sprinkles a ray of light in his window to wake him up. I pray for that light to shine on him. I want him to know what it looks like when he sees it on me.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;Pink&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;are my lips so soft like two tiny little pillows...."Got me feinin for his lips on my kiss..." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Green&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;with envy that I can't feel his touch yet another woman does.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Purple &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;rain plays in the background as I try to drown my sadness in song.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Orange&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;peels in bed...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Orange&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;peels in my bed, I'm so Blue without you.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;White &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;sheets so crisp and cold. I hate going to bed alone. Hey&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Brown&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;eyed girl get a grip on yourself!...his&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Black&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;heart won't allow him to see what's right in front of him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ff6666;"&gt;~Deirdre Edwina~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Until We Read Again,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Deirdre&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&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/14413585-8586790457930848616?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8586790457930848616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8586790457930848616&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8586790457930848616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8586790457930848616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/01/colors-of-love.html' title='Colors of Love'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bx108tlfjUI/R4UqIAjJE0I/AAAAAAAAAeA/ex_kerUscPU/s72-c/Sunset.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14413585.post-8703007039423767642</id><published>2008-01-03T18:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T21:02:25.968-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Little Year That Could...(have killed me)</title><content type='html'>&lt;h3 class="post-title"&gt;                          &lt;a href="http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2007/01/little-year-that-couldhave-killed-me.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                      &lt;/h3&gt;                        &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4527/1303/1600/408234/mycuprunsover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 308px; height: 334px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4527/1303/320/418091/mycuprunsover.jpg" border="0" height="334" width="270" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Okay so it is a new year and that means new things are about to happen. The old things maybe be old, but they still exist. I had a really wonderful year through all the problems, ups and downs, ins and outs, situations and circumstances. I have to say that I had a pretty good year over all....because I'm still ALIVE!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;em&gt; 2007 in review:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;January: The month of "New beginnings"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had gone through so much in 2006, that I was more then ready to start a fresh in 2007. I was working as a Medical Assistant and was going on 2 years there, when all Hell broke loose! So I had to really pull on God in order to even have the strength to get up and go to work every day...but &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;I SURVIVED!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;February: The month of "Growth"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During this month I learn a lot about how to keep my feelings OFF my shoulder. I grew up mentally and spiritually. I had a lot of help with this process let me tell you....their names were Angie and Darcey.  Anyway, they meant well I know, and the way they act is no reflection of what's truly in their hearts. (I hope so at least) They really gave your girl the once over. I mean they let me have it in more ways then one. You see I have a problem when people speak to me in a harsh tone...okay okay my feelings get hurt! I can't stand it! But that is how Angie broke me all the way down (I really didn't handle it well at all) Now whether or not they were right or wrong...it was for my good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;March: The month of "Change"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was a month when I think I did the most crying. I cried about everything from: my job, to my so called &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"boyfriend" &lt;/span&gt;to the one guy I truly wanted to be with, to my Church home. I was so tired that I said to myself... &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;"I Quit!"&lt;/span&gt; I was living with my girlfriend at the time and it was not working. Now she wasn't my problem, her husband was. That's right, he was supposed to be gone from the house as per their separation, but he was there all the time, and it drove me crazy. Not to mention the fact that my job was in jeopardy and I didn't know what that outcome was going to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;April: The month of "Dealing with Spirits"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;At this point in the year I was still trying to deal with my co-workers and their mess...Darcey in particular. She was really weird...I'm talking &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Willy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wonka&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; weird.  She made my job so hard. There were times I didn't want to even walk into this place because she was so outrageous. Now I know I can be a pill sometimes, but at least I knew how to leave my jive at home. Which is more then I can say for my other co-worker Angie...she and I had been close at one point, but somehow it went sour. Our boss lady came in and had this awesome meeting and things got a bit better.  Needless to say I had to go through this season of &lt;span style="font-size: 130%; color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;"dealing"&lt;/span&gt; for quite a while. Can any one say&lt;span style="font-size: 130%; color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;"long suffering"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;May: The month of "Heartache and Pain"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man my heart was so broke during this month it wasn't even funny. 1st I lost my &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"&gt;JOB!!!!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I mean they just sold it right out from under us and didn't even give us a package out! I was so upset and hurt I simply couldn't believe it. It all happen so fast. One minute I had a job and the next minute I was on the unemployment line. It was horrifying. I felt like I didn't have anyone to turn to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; I made the very painful decision to leave the church I had been a member of since 97. It was for the best, but that didn't make it hurt any less. On one hand I felt like i was letting my Pastor down. And on the other hand I knew it was God and I had to do what HE told me to do. And&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;3rd I found myself homeless. I had to move in with my sister because where there is no money, there is no way to pay your bills. I was done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;June: The month of R&amp;amp;R&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Well since I was now unemployed I decided to take a minute to rest and breathe and think about my next move. I was able to reconnect with my family in more ways then I could have imaged and just have some fun and take some of the pressure off.  I took a drive out to Indianapolis with my Mother and youngest nephew, so I was feeling real positive about the outlook of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;July: The month of "Phony Parenting"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the month that my Mother's and I relationship took a real turn for the worst. We could hardly have a decent conversation with one another without it turning into an argument. I used to have so much trust in my Mother (although I still love her so very much) but something happened and it would be a while before I found out what it was. I was still not working and I was becoming very unhappy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;August: The month of "Throw Backs"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;In this month I went back to my Mother's birthplace and took care of some business with my sister. Well she actually took care of the business I just watched. It was something that needed to be done and unless we took care of it, it would never had gotten done. When it was all taken care of, we thought everything would snap back into place. My Mother had gotten to the point where she was simply not being a good steward of her money or her business. I felt helpless but I didn't want to argue with her so I didn't bother with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;September: The month of "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Fabulousness&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the month I turned 34 years old!!!! And dang it I look good!!! I feel more fabulous now then I had ever felt before. I already had pretty great self esteem...but now it is off the chain!!! I am in good health, in my right mind, and I am living life to the fullest. Thank you Father for life health and strength! And a sound and sober mind! Welcome back "T"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;October: The month of "3 fold blessings to come"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Still no job by this month, but I was yet holding on. I found myself getting more and more into my Word and my relationship with Jesus Christ. I had to build up my prayer life, because I was sinking into depression and I didn't like that feeling one bit. It was hard not having a job or money in my pocket. Every dime I did get it had to go on my car. This was rough no doubt. This was the month I received a prophecy about my 3 fold blessings that were to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;November: The month of "Refinement"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH&lt;/span&gt;! That's all I can say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;December: The month of "Tears , Fears and Gears"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I just knew that when this month came I was going to lose my dang &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;frang&lt;/span&gt; mind! But I didn't. This was also the month for my Sisters &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;39&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; birthday and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Katt&lt;/span&gt; Williams concert!!!! It was bad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Millz&lt;/span&gt;! I am going into the new year with a better attitude. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want to go into 2008 the same way...I simply cant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throughout last year I had some ups and some downs....but through them all I stayed true to one person and one thing....&lt;span style="font-size: 180%; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;ME!&lt;/span&gt; I told myself long time ago that I was going to be the best &lt;span style="font-size: 180%; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; that I could possibly be....and I am improving more and more everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Hello 2008!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;U.W.R.A, Deirdre&lt;br /&gt;&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/14413585-8703007039423767642?l=barbiewrites.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/feeds/8703007039423767642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14413585&amp;postID=8703007039423767642&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8703007039423767642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14413585/posts/default/8703007039423767642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barbiewrites.blogspot.com/2008/01/little-year-that-couldhave-killed-me.html' title='The Little Year That Could...(have killed me)'/><author><name>iDeirdre</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08294069148875589058</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6YvcxGi_qb4/TwIFLOiu8tI/AAAAAAAABoU/PdUy63j6P6E/s220/397007_10150439374631012_663906011_8948107_822000152_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
