<?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-144268540191183588</id><updated>2012-02-15T22:35:25.645-08:00</updated><category term='parenting'/><category term='irritation'/><category term='energy'/><category term='Tough Love'/><category term='breathing'/><category term='shiatsu'/><category term='breath'/><title type='text'>Attempt for the Good</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>51</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-5613777446434272557</id><published>2009-01-29T08:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T08:34:09.129-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunshine on my cube wall</title><content type='html'>Technically, it was a reflection off of someone else's cube shelf onto my cube shelf, but it was definitely the sun and it definitely made me smile.  It made me happy enough to fetch a co-worker so I could show him, and, as it sometimes will do, the sun reflection gradually faded away as I pointed at it.  That's ok.  It did make a legitimate visit, no matter how brief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a hopeful mood.  There are some mighty big events on the horizon, but today has been good.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Things of Today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-opening story of the Sun&lt;br /&gt;-Burt's Bees pomegranite shampoo (I could SUCK on my hair it smells so yummy)&lt;br /&gt;-my pregnant sister's safe arrival to my house last night&lt;br /&gt;-breakfast with my sister this morning&lt;br /&gt;-my employment&lt;br /&gt;-my friend's blog story about a student saying something nice about her.  It's so true.&lt;br /&gt;-green tea&lt;br /&gt;-reflecting on a great client session from last night&lt;br /&gt;-my husband telling us we will receive about $700 back after taxes, and that's after decreasing our 401K contributions to pay off some debt-it's working for us.&lt;br /&gt;-being ok with this not being a very tidy list&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-5613777446434272557?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/5613777446434272557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=5613777446434272557' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5613777446434272557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5613777446434272557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2009/01/sunshine-on-my-cube-wall.html' title='Sunshine on my cube wall'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-6986450455651925358</id><published>2008-11-30T08:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T08:43:22.782-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Today is the day</title><content type='html'>I am no longer going to feel guilty for being "unproductive".  Here is my self psychoanalysis; I grew up on a farm, and if we weren't working when my dad was working, he would make you feel like you SHOULD be working.  GUILT.  Today, my friends, I am letting go of that guilt.  I know I am, in most cases, a productive person.  I get my shit DONE, and I work hard-most of the time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of the things I used to (used to, as in minutes ago) view as unproductive:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I can watch movie trailers for many, many minutes.  I think I've even reached an hour in the past.  It calms me.  It's noncommittal.  I like to think ahead, and, I guess, this is part of planning ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Making a list, and then re-making it.  At least I'm thinking about what needs to happen and prioritizing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Stretching.  Can you believe this one???  More than once I've felt like taking too much time to stretch is wasteful of my time.  Gawd!  I'm annoyed by this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Making tea.  Cutting fruit.  Organizing the refrigerator.  These are all things that calm me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Reading, especially while drinking tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, becoming aware of some of these makes me feel sad.  I have, in the past, felt irritated when my mom expressed guilt over not feeling like she could relax when my dad was busy working.  I have even told her, "You do PLENTY.  You deserve to have your tea and not feel lazy!"  But I GET it!  I'm letting (will work on letting) these go.  I am no longer on the farm.  And I really enjoy watching movie trailers.  So, my friends, grab a cup of tea and check out Were the World Mine!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-6986450455651925358?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/6986450455651925358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=6986450455651925358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/6986450455651925358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/6986450455651925358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/11/today-is-day.html' title='Today is the day'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-1635114599206814130</id><published>2008-10-23T06:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T07:17:57.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving</title><content type='html'>I'm not a regular blogger.  I fear, without even realizing it, that I will do it "wrong".  Seriously, wtf?  That sort of attitude annoys me more than makes me sad.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;I had a terrific acupuncture appointment yesterday.  Productive in the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual sense.  After my acup needled me, she left the room, closed the door, and I instantly started crying.  Not sobbing, but a very active weep.  Within that weep, I entered some level of self forgiveness, self acceptance, and self evaluation.  I NEED to do something. I NEED to make things happen.  I have an idea as to what these things are, but I still need to swirl in them before sharing.  The moment passed quickly-I mean, really quickly.  I almost wanted to go BACK to it for longer, but I think that's all I needed for now.  I think it's all I could handle.  Like seeing Mary on toast.  It was enough.  &lt;br /&gt;I have been carrying some boxes that need to be looked through.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she returned, removed the needles, and had me turn over, we chatted while she did some cupping along my spine.  There's nothing like the visual and actual energetic feel of removing something stagnate.  I was able to take deep, healthy breaths again, but they were also new breaths.  It's always new, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My acupuncturist and I are good friends.  We get into really great discussions about connections, and the terror, and sometimes, necessity of being disconnected.  It's important to me, but not heavy.  I never feel heavy when I leave there.  I feel comforted and grounded, empowered, but not the hyper kind that fades shortly after.  Something was moved, and I need to nourish that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-1635114599206814130?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/1635114599206814130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=1635114599206814130' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1635114599206814130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1635114599206814130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/10/moving.html' title='Moving'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-720537184920128339</id><published>2008-10-09T06:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T06:54:36.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Surgery and my big plans while on Valium</title><content type='html'>I will be having an outpatient procedure tomorrow to "take care" of a varicose vein.  The procedure begins with an "a", but I can't remember what it is.  What I DO know is that they will be sticking a catheter into my vein below the varicose vein on my calf, and working their way up to the malfunctioning valve in my upper, inner thigh (pretty damn close to the groin), and, with a laser, burning the vein shut.  I've had this v.v. for about 10 years, but it has grown significantly bigger in the past two years, and, in the past six months, has started to throb and itch when I work out.  It IS unsightly, but I would have dealt with it (worn pants) had it not started to hurt.  I had an ultrasound done and they discovered that it's a Malfunctioner.  So.  Tomorrow, 12:30pm, please pray that the Valium does enough so that I don't feel ANY of it.  I have no need for the experience.&lt;br /&gt;It actually sounds pretty simple and noninvasive.  I will be out of it for the rest of the day, and have been advised to not work out for week-2 weeks.  Oh!  The best part?  The SEXIEST part?  I get to wear a (singular) thigh high compression sock on that leg for a week.  I hope to be offered "black" as a color choice, and not just white or flesh.  I also hope that it doesn't smell if I wear it two days in a row, because I don't want to buy more than one (or would they come in a pack since most people have two legs??).  Yes, so I'm more concerned with fresh-smelling fashion than I am with the possible risks involved in having a laser in my contorted vein.  I see this as progressive thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The clinic where I will be gifted with this surgery has called a couple times to confirm insurance information and appointment time.  After yesterday's call, I believe I will be known as the girl who wants as much valium as she can get without dying.  Really, I don't want to feel ANY of this, and I've made it very clear that I have anxiety over the possibility.  I can't help but envision my vein being probed...it's not a hollow noodle...and...I've never probed a hollow noodle.  Look at how ridiculous I've become!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do have some big plans for my days off (half of Friday and Sat-Sun).  I have Factory Girl on DVD, and some other Netflix movies coming.  I don't remember the last time I let myself watch more than one movie in a day, and I think it might be fun.  I hope the valium doesn't make me barf, especially on my compression sock.  That would ruin my whole weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-720537184920128339?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/720537184920128339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=720537184920128339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/720537184920128339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/720537184920128339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/10/surgery-and-my-big-plans-while-on.html' title='Surgery and my big plans while on Valium'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-8906100662263514410</id><published>2008-09-20T07:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T07:20:06.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spleen Qi Tonic</title><content type='html'>I feel confident (hopeful) that the tonic I purchased last night will help with this stomach thingy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why I like the Eastern approach to medicine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-it just makes sense to talk about the whole person&lt;br /&gt;-energy, energy, energy...what is it doing?  Very interesting.&lt;br /&gt;-I feel safe with it&lt;br /&gt;-my acupuncturist is amazing&lt;br /&gt;-I feel more responsible for myself and my health, and sometimes you need some extra confidence to feel that way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Dash List seems very deviant for me, but it is Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going out dancing this evening with some beautiful friends-good energy all around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-8906100662263514410?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/8906100662263514410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=8906100662263514410' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/8906100662263514410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/8906100662263514410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/09/spleen-qi-tonic.html' title='Spleen Qi Tonic'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-4688169581968051953</id><published>2008-09-18T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T13:57:42.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stomach</title><content type='html'>No matter what I eat; carrots, a brownie, fish...moments later my stomach will swell.  It actually looks like I'm pregnant.  It's not gas, it doesn't hurt, it's just freaky.  This is so annoying.  &lt;br /&gt;I have a few friends who have digestive issues, and I have always felt for them, but I guess this brings things to a new level of empathy.  &lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking back and I believe I've dealt with this-on and off-for many years...geez???  It's been particularly bad the past couple weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I need my acupuncturist and see what she thinks.  I'd love to just deflate.  I suppose I need to think about my ovaries, too...hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-4688169581968051953?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/4688169581968051953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=4688169581968051953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/4688169581968051953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/4688169581968051953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/09/stomach.html' title='Stomach'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-7038339951534039647</id><published>2008-09-09T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T10:42:07.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a proofreader for c.sakes</title><content type='html'>"falls from the past"...or..does "past fall's" work?  Do I need the "'s"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"it's A job"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gawd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the park, by myself, for lunch today and it was wonderful.  The air was crisp, the sun high, and I felt at ease.  It is all about the breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is busy and I've heard people swearing frequently. I am trying to not curse so much, unless I am certain it won't come across as trashy.  I had a co-worker offer me a brownie the other day and her "reason" for baking was "I had the mix, I had the eggs, so I decided to just make the shit"...  Oh, mmm, yum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-7038339951534039647?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/7038339951534039647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=7038339951534039647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7038339951534039647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7038339951534039647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-proofreader-for-csakes.html' title='I&apos;m a proofreader for c.sakes'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-3850499609747003547</id><published>2008-09-09T03:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T03:40:01.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here's a few things</title><content type='html'>It's a new day and I'm eating oatmeal with peanut butter and banana.  My green tea is hot and comforting.  Quality sleep is not guaranteed for me when I'm menstruating, so I'm trying to connect with this morning, this day, this oatmeal.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My busy time at work is starting much sooner than past fall's.  In fact, it used to hold off until December-January.  I'm taking it as it comes...it's job, it pays the bills, and I could use some overtime money.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've recently decided that...&lt;br /&gt;...I need to get my workout in before work, and I NEED to sweat&lt;br /&gt;...I will use my new library card&lt;br /&gt;...the use of double negatives does not mean someone is uneducated&lt;br /&gt;...the use of double negatives will always hurt my ears&lt;br /&gt;...I think I've been consuming too much sugar&lt;br /&gt;...sleep is more important to me than sex during the work week&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-3850499609747003547?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/3850499609747003547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=3850499609747003547' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3850499609747003547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3850499609747003547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/09/heres-few-things.html' title='Here&apos;s a few things'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-6112316407733969908</id><published>2008-08-26T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T06:36:59.517-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I care very much what people think</title><content type='html'>I do.  I must.  If I didn't care, then why would I feel so guilty about not using the sewing machine my mother-in-law gave me three Christmases ago?  I don't sew, so, why would I use it?  &lt;br /&gt;Sewing machines are very cool, btw, but I just do not want to take the time (or my small reserve of self patience) to learn how to use it.  Perhaps, someday, when I'm a mother, I'll have more time (riiiiight).&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting upon the toilet this morning, and, besides the obvious wave of expected relief, I felt another wave.  A you-are-doing-just-fine wave.  I'm not sure what exactly has been going on in my body/mind/soul this month, but August has been really heavy for me.  I had a could-I-be-pregnant scare, conflicting discussions with my life mate on how to handle it (had I truly been pregnant), my cycle went all to f*ck, I was crying on and off for two weeks straight (one time the trigger was a rippin' annoying Rod Stewart song), and I had a friend's wife call me in the early morning hours to question my fidelity and, basically, call me a slut.  All of this made me question my role as a woman, a woman friend, a wife, a sister, and a feminist.  My body has been changing, and I don't know why or when it started to happen.  It has been feeling things differently.  I need to accept this gift from Mother Earth, or else.  I will go crazy if I don't, and I feel like I've already had a touch of that recently, and it didn't feel good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LIST TIME!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will try to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pat myself on the head daily&lt;br /&gt;regularly make a list of things I've done in a day, not the things I need to do&lt;br /&gt;find time for yoga, and, if I truly enjoy it, give more time for it&lt;br /&gt;appreciate my legs for being strong, not flabby&lt;br /&gt;defend myself if falsely accused-in a classy, memorable (blog worthy)way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's enough for now.  Yes, I will add "know when i've done enough before doing too much" to the list.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-6112316407733969908?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/6112316407733969908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=6112316407733969908' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/6112316407733969908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/6112316407733969908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-care-very-much-what-people-think.html' title='I care very much what people think'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-5243977911164925277</id><published>2008-08-12T11:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T11:35:11.594-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New and Old Things I've Recently Enjoyed</title><content type='html'>(Woohoo-look at me, look at me!  Posting AGAIN in August!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Adele (pronounced "A Doll") I like her sound and she's cute as a button.&lt;br /&gt;-The thought of eating a corn dog, but not actually doing so.&lt;br /&gt;-York Peppermint Patties&lt;br /&gt;-smoothies (bananas, raspberries, OJ, ice, and vanilla yogurt)&lt;br /&gt;-Pineapple Express.  The movie.  But if anyone can get their hands on the variety, I'd be game.&lt;br /&gt;-Not wearing underwear.&lt;br /&gt;-Biking.&lt;br /&gt;-The smell of a conference room after many different people have been in it-the mix of fragrances has been invigorating.&lt;br /&gt;-Wearing dresses and bike shorts.&lt;br /&gt;-Planning cleaning projects for my home.&lt;br /&gt;-BUST magazine.  Always and Forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, I know I'm deviating from my Dash List, but I was most flattered this weekend when a young woman told me that I look like Regina Spektor.  F*cking THANK YOU!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-5243977911164925277?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/5243977911164925277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=5243977911164925277' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5243977911164925277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5243977911164925277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/08/new-and-old-things-ive-recently-enjoyed.html' title='New and Old Things I&apos;ve Recently Enjoyed'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-33767536408991582</id><published>2008-08-07T13:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T13:53:03.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Health</title><content type='html'>I am a fairly-very healthy individual, in my opinion.  I had to go into work late today because I was feeling Not Healthy.  It wasn't anything serious or dramatic, but it reminded me how lucky I am.  I have been slacking lately; not enough sleep, straying from my workouts, and even skipping an acupuncture appointment that was needed.  Why?  I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I need to get back on track.  I'm being kind to myself this evening and having an easy "movement" workout, and I'm putting myself in bed by 9pm AT THE LATEST.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, today was weird for me.  The heavy, achy feeling started last night, and this morning I felt drugged.  There was no way I was going to make it to work on time.  I fell back asleep and entered Weird Dream Territory...it was a feverish two hours.  It was also somewhat erotic-in that scary, confusing way.  Yeah.  I'm complicated.  Ok, but really, the irrational what-if-I'm-pregnant thoughts started to enter my mind.  Not because i had any real symptoms, but because I felt so different emotionally.  Fairly-very healthy people DO that when they don't feel perfectly fair/very.  It's annoying.  My boobs hurt and I wanted to cry often, but other than that...I SHOULDN'T be pregnant.  &lt;br /&gt;So, I did what any normal gal would do...I stopped at good ole CVS before heading to work and then took a pregnancy test in my company's bathroom.  One erect line says NO!  I then wrapped so much toilet paper around the used sigh-of-relief (I laughed a little, too, which is probably what made another female scurry so quickly) I almost couldn't fit it into the feminine box.  I did though, and I'm grateful that my "box" is still just mine for the time being.  Someday I will allow that massive change, but not now.&lt;br /&gt;SO, this leads me to wanting to make a list.  I love lists, especially dashed or bullet pointed lists.  The list will be "To Do B4..." the B4 is in reference to before baby and a shout out to texting.  I will have the following categories; Home, Body, Career.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will get on that later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-33767536408991582?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/33767536408991582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=33767536408991582' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/33767536408991582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/33767536408991582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/08/health.html' title='Health'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-6658496745490888359</id><published>2008-07-17T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T09:28:01.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I take that back?</title><content type='html'>Yes, this is my third post in ONE DAY and it's been well over a month since my last post...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll just get right to it.  When I was in college, I did an internship at a non-profit publishing press.  It was Awesome. &lt;br /&gt;I loved reading manuscripts, being around other people reading manuscripts, meeting people who wrote those manuscripts, and watching the process of a manuscript becoming a book that people could hold and love and pet. &lt;br /&gt;It was Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I still had a semester of college left after I completed the internship.  A professor organized a gathering for students to ask me questions about the internship, and other professors attended (ugh, I'm starting to feel embarrassed).  At one point during the Q&amp;amp;A, I made a comment about how I "never wanted to comprimise myself", and I certainly meant that, however, I think it came off sounding pompous.  Well, it MUST have, because a professor that I really respected actually scoffed. &lt;br /&gt;Scoffing is different than laughing.  Scoffing is a noise that says, "Oh, f*cking NICE.  NIIIICE".  I realized it immediately, but I didn't retract, or try to rephrase, my comment. &lt;br /&gt;I don't know what made that feeling come back, but it has again and again over the years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yes, I never want to comprimise myself, BUT I am more (or was) than willing to work for my position in an organization like that particular publishing press.  I think I might have sounded like I was saying, "I don't plan on doing any little piddly tasks, especially now that I'm HOT and RAD after working in the City"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That scoff haunts me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This should have been my very first post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-6658496745490888359?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/6658496745490888359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=6658496745490888359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/6658496745490888359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/6658496745490888359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/07/can-i-take-that-back.html' title='Can I take that back?'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-7828698218647690568</id><published>2008-07-17T07:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T07:49:42.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex in the shower is hot</title><content type='html'>This isn't a complaint, but I have discovered that steamy sex on a 90 degree day is very difficult.  The only time I'm glad I'm light headed following sex is if I have orgasmed.  I don't like almost fainting because of high humidity levels.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps this information is of use to you. &lt;br /&gt;Good day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-7828698218647690568?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/7828698218647690568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=7828698218647690568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7828698218647690568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7828698218647690568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/07/sex-in-shower-is-hot.html' title='Sex in the shower is hot'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-3995791776942958183</id><published>2008-07-17T07:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T07:45:05.068-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten Year Reunion</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow evening i have my class reunion.  Ten years.  I'm wondering if we are all thinking the same thing...&lt;br /&gt;"Time goes so quickly"&lt;br /&gt;"Have I really done anything in the past ten years??"&lt;br /&gt;"I hope that fill-in-the-blank doesn't show up!"&lt;br /&gt;"I hope that fill-in-the-blank DOES show up and they are exactly the same person!"&lt;br /&gt;"I wonder if I'm thinner than her now..."&lt;br /&gt;"I wonder if they ever went to rehab..."&lt;br /&gt;"I hope everyone thinks I'm happy and successful."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These have been a few thoughts, and there are plenty more (some even snobbier than you could imagine, others just a bit sad, and others that would be considered typical of me). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All our lives we watch movies, shows, and read stories about Reunions.  I don't feel nearly the amount of pressure that has been demonstrated in certain shows, but there's something...it's giddiness, but also nervousness.  Maybe I'm nervous for the people who are nervous.  I actually do not feel at all like it's a competition.  I'm quite happy with my life, myself, and my expectations for myself.  I don't think I'm much different from High School Girl, except for my hair.  It's much darker and straighter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel sad for those classmates who aren't going because they don't feel they've accomplished enough.  Seriously?  We have ALL f*cked up in some way since high school, some in the past, some currently, and some are on their way to more extreme f*ck ups.  It's ok!  That's exactly why we need to get together and see that we've survived!  It's very encouraging to me, actually.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-3995791776942958183?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/3995791776942958183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=3995791776942958183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3995791776942958183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3995791776942958183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/07/ten-year-reunion.html' title='Ten Year Reunion'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-590178857872994338</id><published>2008-05-21T16:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T16:26:44.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Giddy</title><content type='html'>I'm going to Montreal tomorrow.  This will be my first time out of the US of A.  I like seeing new people, spending time with known people, and realizing that we are all just People. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also like to eat when on vacation.  Yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun is out, it's in the 70s, my hair looks good today (it really does!), and I'm about to leave work for a week!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-590178857872994338?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/590178857872994338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=590178857872994338' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/590178857872994338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/590178857872994338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/05/giddy.html' title='Giddy'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-1907340811993776890</id><published>2008-05-07T07:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T07:46:42.692-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Younger One</title><content type='html'>Today, on my ride into work, I rode past three kids who were wating for their bus.  I heard the older of the three yell "Stinky? Stinky? Come on, Stinky!"  I looked over, even though I knew it wasn't directed at me (credit would need to be given to the kid had he voiced such a blatantly accurate observation), and saw the youngest kid slinking away.&lt;br /&gt;I looked away as fast as I could so he wouldn't think I was going to carrying the story with me all the way into work and then blog about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-1907340811993776890?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/1907340811993776890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=1907340811993776890' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1907340811993776890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1907340811993776890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/05/younger-one.html' title='The Younger One'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-7567003043406856560</id><published>2008-05-01T13:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T13:23:21.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten Things I am Ok with</title><content type='html'>1. a can of Diet Coke a day (or even two)&lt;br /&gt;2. the decision to smoke weed again (im not the self medicating teen from years ago:))&lt;br /&gt;3. nudity&lt;br /&gt;4. dirty dishes in the sink&lt;br /&gt;5. crying&lt;br /&gt;6. being unsure about god&lt;br /&gt;7. questions about having kids&lt;br /&gt;8. wearing jeans many times before washing them&lt;br /&gt;9. leftovers&lt;br /&gt;10. skinny jeans&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-7567003043406856560?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/7567003043406856560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=7567003043406856560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7567003043406856560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7567003043406856560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/05/ten-things-i-am-ok-with.html' title='Ten Things I am Ok with'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-3198031052732117779</id><published>2008-04-23T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T11:46:52.774-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring brings Truth</title><content type='html'>walking in sunshine and padding beneath&lt;br /&gt;our feet&lt;br /&gt;we want to talk about what is real not&lt;br /&gt;necessarily good but at least&lt;br /&gt;real&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the air doesn't hurt to breath in and we choose to not&lt;br /&gt;wear layers of material and we choose&lt;br /&gt;we try&lt;br /&gt;to remove the others&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-3198031052732117779?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/3198031052732117779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=3198031052732117779' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3198031052732117779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3198031052732117779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/04/spring-brings-truth.html' title='Spring brings Truth'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-1552759489871332667</id><published>2008-01-04T10:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T12:51:15.604-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aggie</title><content type='html'>A week ago today my aunt Aggie died.  It was a complete shock to everyone; she was only 68, very healthy, and I had just seen her a couple weeks earlier.  My parents and some other family saw her the night before she died.  Of course, this is what you do, we all had to go over the "last time we saw her".  Had I not seen her so recently, I'd still be shocked by her death.  She had a heart attack, but hadn't known she had any heart problems.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aggie lived at a retreat center/farm in MN where she did massage, energy healing, and was a nun.  Her wake was Wednesday evening and I enjoyed looking at the pictures of her working in Nicaragua, Venezuela, and at the retreat center.  She had a deep, profound connection to the earth and to people.  She was an activist, a feminist, and a positive picture of Catholicism.  She truly served people with humility, humor, and respect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was telling a friend about her after the wake and something that I realized was how comforted I felt by her being so spiritually grounded.  Aggie, being who she was, wouldn't have viewed her death as being unfair.  She probably thought "Oh, now?  Really?  Alright then, let's get going...".  I might just want to believe this for my own benefit, but I really feel she will move on to the next mission in her life with ease.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-1552759489871332667?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/1552759489871332667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=1552759489871332667' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1552759489871332667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1552759489871332667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2008/01/aggie.html' title='Aggie'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-204732572495685166</id><published>2007-12-27T11:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T11:56:29.329-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rambling Through</title><content type='html'>I visited my acupuncturist last Saturday and she, basically, cleared up my cold.  Now, I know better than to claim that acupuncture is a "miracle", although it has seemed that way at times.  I have found that it helps minimize the duration of illnesses and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;strengthens&lt;/span&gt; my immune system.  Today the cold has made it's way to the chest, which means it will (if the pattern holds true) leave me soon. &lt;br /&gt;It's always a good reminder to me-plenty of sleep, avoid excessive amounts of sugar (I'm detoxing today-detox was supposed to start yesterday, but I gave in to some so-so sugar cookies), exercise, and patience with self. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a complete jump in topic...I have been wondering, as I have in the past, where my life mate and I would be if we hadn't purchased a home when we did.  Would I still be working the job I have?  Would I have completed the massage program at school?  Would we still reside in our current geographic location? Would I have nurtured my creative side more?  During times of financial struggle, I have blamed our mortgage on my lack of creative energy.  Being Stuck.  Worrying about the dollar amount.  As I put that in words in front of my face I realize that it might create added stress, but it's always ME who allows these obstacles. &lt;br /&gt;Still...sometimes I wish we just didn't have the responsibility, that we could get out of a lease and move somewhere else.&lt;br /&gt;Then I remember how I really love where I'm at.  Why do I think about moving????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-204732572495685166?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/204732572495685166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=204732572495685166' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/204732572495685166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/204732572495685166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/12/rambling-through.html' title='Rambling Through'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-1161830546892416813</id><published>2007-12-14T11:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T13:30:56.361-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family</title><content type='html'>I picked up my cousin from the train station last night at 10:30, then dropped her off at my aunt's house.  The whole event took about an hour, and that's the longest I have ever talked to her before.  She's 19, I'm 27.  Her family grew up in another state, her mom is my dad's sister and my god mother.  We, her mother and I, have never been really close either, in my opinion.  I wonder if she ever thought so??&lt;br /&gt;It was nice to talk to my cousin, she has grown up, I've grown up, and I realize the importance in maintaining those relationships.  I certainly feel I've dropped the ball on a lot of familial relationships in the past few years, even friendships.  Not purposely, of course, it's just that more and more time shoves itself in between visits, phone calls, and, I never thought it possible, emails.&lt;br /&gt;I get to see most of my dad's family tomorrow at our Xmas gathering.  It will be fun.  Lots of people, noise, and food.  I need them right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-1161830546892416813?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/1161830546892416813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=1161830546892416813' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1161830546892416813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1161830546892416813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/12/family.html' title='Family'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-5270525803298044370</id><published>2007-12-13T12:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T13:48:19.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Skimpy List Mode</title><content type='html'>I used to wonder how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bloggers&lt;/span&gt; could let days, weeks, months go by...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things Going On:&lt;br /&gt;-the plumber is starting work on our basement Monday morning.  This will get the ball rolling on our Finish Basement Project.  We will use the rest of our home equity to do this work, as well as buy a toilet, sink, shower, and some framing materials.&lt;br /&gt;-My sister is still pregnant, still sick most days, but she's still making it.&lt;br /&gt;-Work is busy.  Busy.  Busy.  Busy.&lt;br /&gt;-My co-workers are frowning at me (refer to above) for being online.&lt;br /&gt;-I already have 12 clients booked for January!&lt;br /&gt;-I need to buy High School Musical 2 for my niece.  This is the ONLY gift I am buying from a place other than the co-op or second hand store.  I am happy about this. &lt;br /&gt;-I am wearing a skirt today, with tall, black boots.  I feel cute, maybe even hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all for today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-5270525803298044370?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/5270525803298044370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=5270525803298044370' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5270525803298044370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5270525803298044370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/12/skimpy-list-mode.html' title='Skimpy List Mode'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-4516080263508214542</id><published>2007-11-21T11:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T12:20:15.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I'm Thankful For, Things I'm Watchful For</title><content type='html'>We are spending the day with my family in my hometown.  Actually, we eat dinner at a family-owned pub in a small town next my small hometown.  We've been doing this since my grandpa died, making it easier on everyone.  I appreciate the fact that no one has the pressure of hosting Thanksgiving dinner. &lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be negative right now, but I feel like I have one of those "holiday headaches".  There is so much expectation around family gatherings, eating, and getting time off from work.  My favorite holidays are July 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; (because of the patriotic-themed T-shirts), January 1st (many people gathered in a small space makes me warm and cuddly), and Halloween (I like snack-sized &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Twix&lt;/span&gt;).  There's a part of me that loves Christmas-it's a child-like love.  I need to find that again and get over the cliche, obvious irritations.  I need to cut those things out, because it IS possible.  (note to self-it isn't Christmas yet-chill out).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have much to be thankful for, and if I let myself go, I could really, truly cry over it. &lt;br /&gt;-My sister has had a tremendously difficult pregnancy, but she's still a spitfire.  I look forward to seeing her and her big, round belly.&lt;br /&gt;-My nieces are magical, and I can't wait to see them again and hear all about Hairspray.&lt;br /&gt;-I enjoy the car ride with Pete.  Inevitably, I'll change the station to Xmas music (because I love it, even though I get sick of it), and he'll bitch, but we always have good conversations in the car. &lt;br /&gt;-I enjoy eating&lt;br /&gt;-My cousins are loud and kind of obnoxious.  It's funny.  I do not like one of my uncles very much, but I like to impersonate him after seeing him.  Good material.&lt;br /&gt;-My parents are great people, and life has aged them.  I always feel a little sad when I say good-bye because I wish I could do more for them.  I'm thankful they continue to be such good people.&lt;br /&gt;-Rumor has it, my other younger sister (the not pregnant one) has been clean for some time now.  I hope this continues.  I will not bank on it, but I am thankful this might be the case. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always, always, always slightly nervous to go home.  It can be chaotic, and stressful, and it really shouldn't be.  It's this way because some family members continue to make unwise decisions.  However, I have some great siblings, parents, and, overall, it's ok.  Definitely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was going to have to work Friday and Saturday, but I don't have to now!  This is wonderful news...I almost don't know what to do.  Movies, walks, dog park, and a house project...yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm rambling and don't feel like saying much else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Thanksgiving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-4516080263508214542?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/4516080263508214542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=4516080263508214542' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/4516080263508214542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/4516080263508214542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/11/things-im-thankful-for-things-im.html' title='Things I&apos;m Thankful For, Things I&apos;m Watchful For'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-8561783224600189335</id><published>2007-11-14T08:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T08:32:21.723-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Breakfast</title><content type='html'>We've had company at our house for the last five nights, so, being that this morning was the first morning without, I made myself a big breakfast.  It was wonderful.  Eggs with cheese and broccoli, bacon, toast, orange juice, and tea.  It was worth being late for work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been very busy with work, but also just thinking about work, my business, my family, my friends, and how I can make time for myself and everyone else.  This is not a unique situation to be in, but there are times when I'm better at balancing it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took tomorrow off (weeks ago), despite the resentment my co-worker's are sending my way, and I plan on getting things organized and accomplished.  Here is my list;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. lift weights, walk the dog, walk alone&lt;br /&gt;2. scrub shower&lt;br /&gt;3. chiropractor appointment&lt;br /&gt;4. get passport photo taken (remember birth certificate!)&lt;br /&gt;5. phone call to clients&lt;br /&gt;6. phone call to figure out if I really need to register my name as a business since it's my name (assumed name???)&lt;br /&gt;7. fill out application for checking account for business, and figure out if I can do this without the IRS processing my sales and ID tax # (it takes two weeks and I just did it today online)&lt;br /&gt;8. Target for water filter and 2008 planner&lt;br /&gt;9. co-op for bananas, bread, and almonds&lt;br /&gt;10. clean other bathroom (clean under sink-nasty)&lt;br /&gt;11. pay bills&lt;br /&gt;12. file receipts for taxes&lt;br /&gt;13. I will take many breaks-because it's a day off!&lt;br /&gt;14. make dinner for P and I (salmon from co-op, beans, rice)&lt;br /&gt;15. As soon as P arrives home-work is done-play time starts (we are watching season 6 of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Degrassi&lt;/span&gt; The Next Generation-it's awesome)&lt;br /&gt;16. Be thankful for every moment of not being at real job&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll start the day with a big breakfast again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-8561783224600189335?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/8561783224600189335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=8561783224600189335' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/8561783224600189335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/8561783224600189335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/11/big-breakfast.html' title='Big Breakfast'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-312132259333315523</id><published>2007-10-25T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T10:22:54.981-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not quite outside of it</title><content type='html'>I wish I could give my sister a perfect life to make having and raising her son easier.  I keep thinking that money could really solve her problems, but money won't make her any healthier (except for eliminating some stress).  She probably won' t be attending school in September for nursing because of limitations with her childcare and budget cuts.  She is already a welfare mother and her child isn't even born yet.  It saddens me to think that many people view her as a stereotypical statistic, even though I know she is trying her best. &lt;br /&gt;I am fighting the urge to be simplistic, but, really, if everyone was just a little bit NICER things could be better for her, and for many others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must end on a positive note...that little boy will have plenty of love, and maybe he will be what brings our family together, or brings about some changes.  He has already made his mother a better person, and he doesn't even know it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never could have expected these things that have shaped me.  My acupuncturist is constantly reminding me that we are no longer the person we were a moment ago.  Isn't that something?!?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-312132259333315523?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/312132259333315523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=312132259333315523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/312132259333315523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/312132259333315523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/10/not-quite-outside-of-it.html' title='Not quite outside of it'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-3557565204882800130</id><published>2007-10-15T11:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T11:58:49.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflecting on Yesterday</title><content type='html'>I had a really terrific Sunday. My husband got up early to go biking and I had eggs and bacon ready for him when he returned. I absolutely love scrambled eggs with cheese and salsa. I also made bacon and had red grapes. Oh yum. The dreariness outside gave me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;permission&lt;/span&gt; to stay in, cook foods I enjoy, do laundry, move some plants in from outside (the poor things should have been moved weeks ago!), have sex, arrange books on a bookshelf in "to read", "borrowed", "favorites", and "bible" piles. We don't have a pile of bibles, we have three, but I do feel the need to keep that pile separate from "erotica" section. It's just a thing I have.&lt;br /&gt;I also had a brand new client in the late afternoon, so that was fun and it went really well. I enjoy Sunday afternoon clients at my house. It has always been a circumstance where the weather is perfect for having a shiatsu done (wait, when isn't the weather perfect for that!?!). The teens who have been yelling up and down our street even decided to postpone the cursing until the session was over. I was very appreciative. I might give them a treat for that one.&lt;br /&gt;The day was concluded with dinner (squash, potatoes, and venison sausage), Family Guy, early bed time (this is so rare!), and a nice orgasm.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, goodness, it was pretty.&lt;br /&gt;Like a perfect dollop of whipped cream on a brownie sundae.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is much to be said for days filled with things that make you feel happy. Whether it is because you are productive, or with people you love, or just because you allowed yourself to do absolutely nothing at all, those days, those moments are gifts. *smile*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-3557565204882800130?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/3557565204882800130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=3557565204882800130' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3557565204882800130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3557565204882800130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/10/reflecting-on-yesterday.html' title='Reflecting on Yesterday'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-2555397152324796045</id><published>2007-10-11T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T06:59:43.959-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Inspired</title><content type='html'>A dear friend of mine has inspired me today to write about three good things.  She completed her day with her list, but I think I need to start my day with it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)  Rousing my dog awake.  He is like a teenager in the morning, you sometimes have to physically move him around to make him get up.  I love how he stretches a big, long stretch, and then, is instantly awake and smiles at you.  That dog loves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2)  Knowing my co-worker/friend is feeling really great today after her first yoga session last night.  I'm so proud of her!  She has been doing WW to lose weight, has lost 10 lbs, is eating better, and now wants to start exercising.  She has been very positive lately, and looks forward to studying yogi theory.  Seeing her health improve has made me very happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3)  Having a moment of "I can choose how I will feel today", and believing it.  I have been having dark, negative thoughts lately, and I really don't know why.  I decided to think about things that make me, naturally, just happier, and it worked.  There is no need to darken my days when there is so much light out there! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, here's another list; Things That Make Me Happy (Naturally)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) doing bodywork&lt;br /&gt;2) my nieces&lt;br /&gt;3) my dog's expressions&lt;br /&gt;4) stretching.  I love stretching.&lt;br /&gt;5) fruit&lt;br /&gt;6) laughter (I work with some people that have the BEST laugh ever.  Ever.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Laura, this really does help.  I need to remember this.  Really, I have so much good in my life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-2555397152324796045?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/2555397152324796045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=2555397152324796045' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/2555397152324796045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/2555397152324796045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/10/inspired.html' title='Inspired'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-8739465637638856319</id><published>2007-10-09T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T07:40:00.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Other Day</title><content type='html'>About a year ago, I started to wash my hair every other day.  My goal was to cut down on shower time and train my oil glands to produce less oil, thus resulting in a happier planet and healthier hair.&lt;br /&gt;Today was a non-shampoo day, and today my hair stinks.  It smells of unwashed hair and Ragstock.  A warehouse Ragstock, not a mall or Duluth Ragstock.  Musty and full of individuals who don't shower because they don't f*cking want to.&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll go clip it back, away from my face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-8739465637638856319?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/8739465637638856319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=8739465637638856319' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/8739465637638856319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/8739465637638856319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/10/every-other-day.html' title='Every Other Day'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-2165747686993538567</id><published>2007-10-09T07:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T07:32:33.382-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Does she think I'm trying to steal her husband?</title><content type='html'>Questions I ask myself that could turn into a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;mediocre&lt;/span&gt; blog entry:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What are the rules for being friends with your male co-workers?&lt;br /&gt;2. Can a straight guy and a straight girl be Just Friends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, it's obvious that this subject has been plaguing me lately. I have been friends with my male co-workers for years. We work together, talk about life outside of work, lend each other movies, text each other, and, I have even attended the church one of my male co-workers and wife attend. Until recently, I have never felt this to be an issue. I still don't feel it is, but I feel like it might be for the wife of a co-worker. This woman knows me; I've been to her home, she's worked in the same building as me during the busier times, and I felt that we had gotten to know each other better. If I'm going to be completely honest, I had felt a strange vibe from her the first time we met, but I thought I was being paranoid. The thing is, I certainly do not want to cause any problems, but I do want to be able to be Just Friends with the guys I work with. Will I address the issue with either the male co-worker or his wife...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nooooooo&lt;/span&gt; way.&lt;br /&gt;Another male co-worker, with whom I am close to and trust more than anyone else at work, has said many times (not about his particular situation) "Guys can't be friends with girls", to which I responded, "You're my friend", and he goes "Yes. True. We don't text though."&lt;br /&gt;So, I guess it really has to do with the level you are at in your friendship. I email this guy, but since I don't text him, it's still Just Friends activity. I have, however, drove his drunk a** home at midnight.&lt;br /&gt;The major indicator for why I think the Woman of male co-worker has an issue with me, is because when I walked into his office one day and started talking about work, her voice came over the speaker phone (he didn't indicate he was in mid-conversation with her), and she said "Since your girlfriend is there, I'll let you go" and HUNG UP. Perhaps they had been fighting, or maybe she was just irritated, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;eeeee&lt;/span&gt;....I apologized and he didn't seem concerned, except for saying, "That's fine, let her wonder"...uh, no, let's not. He was joking though, so this tells me that I'm being overly sensitive.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be "that" woman, but I also still work here and will be friends with these people. My husband thinks the Woman is just dumb, and more than likely, they were having other issues and I just walked in at a bad time. Still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can a guy and girl be Just Friends, especially if both guy and girl are already in a relationship, and this other person comes along AFTER the first relationship has been formed? Is it different when you work with them? Does age make a difference?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is life just really too short to dwell on a topic like this? Probably. I'm bored with this entry, I apologize if you are as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-2165747686993538567?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/2165747686993538567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=2165747686993538567' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/2165747686993538567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/2165747686993538567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/10/questions-i-ask-myself-that-could-turn.html' title='Does she think I&apos;m trying to steal her husband?'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-3830451527407106790</id><published>2007-09-30T04:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T05:10:13.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheeks Spread</title><content type='html'>Must blog.  Must write something.&lt;br /&gt;I got a wax done yesterday, by a professional.  The idea to do so was built on curiosity and the promise of finer regrowth.  Two of my clients both had good things to say about Nell.  I made an appointment a month ago and yesterday was the day.  Full legs and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Brazilian&lt;/span&gt;.  Up until Friday afternoon, I wasn't completely sure what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Brazilian&lt;/span&gt; all entailed.  I knew it could mean all of the...front....but what about the butt hole?&lt;br /&gt;Googled it.  Yes, it means all.  If you so choose.&lt;br /&gt;Nell was great; low key (we could have been walking our dogs it was so casual), professional, warm.  Of course, it means butt hole, too, but you decide where, when, how much.  She didn't say "butt hole" (because, obviously, it's not the actual butt hole that's being waxed).  She called it "booty".  I liked that.  It made me forget that when she spread my cheeks apart that she was near my butt hole.&lt;br /&gt;The whole experience, on a Pain Scale was probably a 7 out of 10, with select areas being 5's and other areas being a m*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ther&lt;/span&gt; f*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;cking&lt;/span&gt; 10.  The worse part was the first strip taken near the top of the pubic hair, near the inner thigh, and the second most terrible area was, actually, the ankles (Nell said this is interesting-some people are fine with it, some are very sensitive around there).  The easiest part?  The booty.  No kidding!  I will even venture to say that it felt "nice"????&lt;br /&gt;I am all about hair and where it ends up on us, it is natural and purposeful, but so is curiosity.  I have also had my nipples pierced, which is why getting my ankles waxed seemed like no biggie.  My nipples are free of jewelry now, curiosity settled, and my ankles will be hairy again, no doubt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-3830451527407106790?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/3830451527407106790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=3830451527407106790' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3830451527407106790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3830451527407106790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/09/cheeks-spread.html' title='Cheeks Spread'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-5297910594604216459</id><published>2007-09-16T04:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T04:49:37.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Great Woman</title><content type='html'>We are leaving in an hour for Michigan to attend the services for my gramma.  I have started the eulogy and actually feel that it will come together ok.  It felt good to write it, to just write, almost as though I was telling her a story that she gave to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't need to wonder if she will hear it, I believe she's very close by yet and wants to catch these next few days.  She was always comforting, clever, and intuitive.  This made her a great woman.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-5297910594604216459?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/5297910594604216459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=5297910594604216459' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5297910594604216459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5297910594604216459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/09/great-woman.html' title='A Great Woman'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-37339998249171188</id><published>2007-09-14T04:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T04:43:45.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gramma</title><content type='html'>My gramma died last night around 8pm.&lt;br /&gt;I spoke with my mom around 7:20pm, and then she called back to tell me that "it's over".  My mom and aunt believe she went two days ago, but her body hadn't caught up yet.  I'm grateful, curious, and feeling very sentimental.  I wonder what she's doing now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadness and relief are an interesting combination, but I'm thankful for both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called my siblings (those of whom have a way of contacting them) and we will see each other on Sunday for the services. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to everyone who cared, prayed, and wondered along with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-37339998249171188?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/37339998249171188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=37339998249171188' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/37339998249171188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/37339998249171188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/09/gramma.html' title='Gramma'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-2337710189201769218</id><published>2007-09-11T06:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T06:48:26.645-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Suffering</title><content type='html'>I'm not purposely trying to post such sad family tales, but I guess that's what's happening in my life regarding my family...my grandma is dying.  My mom left me a voicemail last night to tell me that her kidneys are no longer working, her lungs are filling with fluid,  and she is sleeping only because she's medicated.&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me what this is supposed to teach us.  Her suffering is unfair and unnecessary.  She has been saying (when she was talking) how she wants to go, how she wishes God would take her, so what is the purpose of these final days?  Is she supposed to do something more?  Are we?  Is someone praying to keep her alive because they can't see that she needs to die? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was asked years ago, by my grandma, if I could write and give her euology.  I feel this is a tremendous responsibility and honor, but I also felt guilty when I started working on it four years ago.  I do feel I will need to work on it again very soon.  I pray that I do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-2337710189201769218?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/2337710189201769218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=2337710189201769218' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/2337710189201769218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/2337710189201769218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/09/suffering.html' title='Suffering'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-2739359906600476376</id><published>2007-09-07T07:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T07:34:25.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laughter</title><content type='html'>I have taken on my dad's ability to laugh nervously through tragic situations.  He took a stern tone with me last night on the phone beause he thought I was scoffing at his prayer methods.  You see, I have had it.  I have had it with my brother being abusive and my dad's way of dealing with it is praying instead of kicking the rotten, low life out on his ass.  I've had it with watching my dad sit in this fog of "I need to change him, I need to change him" after he's spit on my sister, punched a hole in the wall,  and then goes outside to shoot his gun.  I've had it.  I'm done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend I am going home for my cousin's wedding.  I'm a reader in this wedding (that's side info).  Dad will be proud because I've been praying to my goddess that I will not have to read that subserviant wife reading that every Catholic wedding has to have.  I will laugh out freakin' loud.  What comes along with going home is having to decide whether or not I will actually Go Home, or if I will stay somewhere else.  I've decided to stay with my sister at her place, but I will Go Home at some point to see my parents.  My mom has told me that she's sure my brother won't be around if I'm there because "he doesn't like you".  My chest puffed out immediately. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a bit of a wreck, but I've found myself laughing almost more than usual.  It's not completely ungenuine either, it just doesn't sound like me.  I have been hearing myself laugh and then wondering what was so funny.  But it works.  Nervous or not, it helps to hear yourself laugh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I will end with a prayer; Please, God, Mother Earth, whoever is listening and can be most efficient, please let my brother get caught while transporting drugs.  This way, we are pretty much guaranteed a good five years of not having to wonder if he'll spit on my sister again, and my parents can restore all the plaster in their walls.  That would be nice.  Also, thanks for giving me many things to laugh at.  I truly appreciate it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-2739359906600476376?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/2739359906600476376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=2739359906600476376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/2739359906600476376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/2739359906600476376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/09/laughter.html' title='Laughter'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-7866515022061543045</id><published>2007-08-27T08:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-27T09:19:03.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't worry, I finished my list.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes my neighborhood is scary. Friday evening I was sitting at the kitchen table making another list...bananas, Matt cookies, turkey, pita &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bre&lt;/span&gt;.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, n*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;gga&lt;/span&gt;, NO N*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;GGA&lt;/span&gt;, NO!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned off our dining room light and ran to the front door to peek outside. There was a tall man, trailing another boy/man who was bike/walking (to do this, put the bike between your legs, but walk). The tall man was screaming in a very loud, bruising sort of way. I was able to catch part of the conversation; he was upset that he moved from Chicago to deal with this sh*t. He did not think it was cool of the other guy to tell people that he broke into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;some one's&lt;/span&gt; crib when he had his gun on him. He didn't "sign on for this sh*t" and all he wanted to do was go downtown to "f*ck some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ho's&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can kind of see his point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's highly irritating when someone makes bad your name when you are an enthusiast of firearms and enjoy carrying. Also, I know I would prefer to save Friday evenings for Ho F*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;cking&lt;/span&gt; and not Bike/Walker trailing. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Sheeeit&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;So, the police arrived in record time, and had both men up against the car, patted them down, let the younger, shy one go, and took the Windy City native into custody.&lt;br /&gt;The sad (not funny sad, but real sad) part was that a couple little kids a few doors down watched the whole thing. I believe they are siblings or cousins of one or both men. That made me fume. It creates a division on our block, and, unfortunately, it appears to be a racial division because the screamer happens to be black. Why do I wish it had been a white guy? Would that help? How would I feel if I had children? I did think about how my nieces were visiting last weekend, and it triggered a different level of irritation in me. I imagined myself running outside, in my underwear, to scream "Shut the f*ck up, you loud, stupid piece of sh*t!" Then it became a more proper scream, "Shut up, immediately! I'm trying to write my co-op grocery list! Learn to RIDE that bike! Is it even YOUR bike? THIEF!" And so on...I felt very Girls In the Hood. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Girlz&lt;/span&gt; 'n &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;da&lt;/span&gt;' hood?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't do any of that. I stood in my porch, where the shadows could hide me, to watch as the police took one away and other one was left on the sidewalk, laughing, pulling his long, stupid t-shirt over his face to laugh INTO, flailing his arms about, yelling about how it's all "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;boooolsheeit&lt;/span&gt;! F*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ckin&lt;/span&gt;' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;boolsheeeit&lt;/span&gt;", all the while those kids were still outside, taking it all in. That should be a great back to school story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-7866515022061543045?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/7866515022061543045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=7866515022061543045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7866515022061543045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7866515022061543045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/08/dont-worry-i-finished-my-list.html' title='Don&apos;t worry, I finished my list.'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-7848788677273080869</id><published>2007-08-24T06:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T07:01:41.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crying, donuts, and orgasms do not always go together.</title><content type='html'>I had a real moment yesterday.  A real moment that has been nearing the surface for some time now, but it decided it needed out last night. &lt;br /&gt;It's been a real struggle, a real annoying, redundant, struggle for me to take each day as it comes.  I have so many great things going on and many more to look forward to, but I've been going through each day as if I'm crossing it off the calendar.  I really do not have any deadlines, so to speak, or tests coming up, or family issues that need dealing with immediately.  I think it's hard for me to function without these things, without being able to see them on my planner, I become a bit nervous, and even confused.  It's really just part of who I am.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday evening, I came to a better place with it all. &lt;br /&gt;I had a good explosive crying session by myself while lying naked on my bed.  My husband had gone downstairs because I needed "time by myself".  It actually all started with sex-with the two of us.  We were starting out, and I decided to use my vibrator, well, it just wasn't working.  I was too distracted.  I realized that I probably just needed a good f*ck and I wasn't in a place to take time for myself.  I began to get irritated, so I asked Pete to go downstairs so I could have time with myself first.  He did, oh so patiently.  I then started in with myself.  Well, I made the mistake of imagining what I looked like at that moment; vibrator buzzing, contorted look on my face, the sad picture of body/mind/soul separation.  I was not there.  I was thinking about how it was my turn to pick up donuts that Friday for my co-workers.  I was thinking about how I needed to wash the cooler out for camping that following week.  These are not clitorally-stimulating thoughts.  Donuts are good, but not that good.  I was not able to give myself an orgasm.  And that made me cry.  It was a sudden, exasperated, exhale of a cry.  I turned the vibrator off and made sure she knew I didn't blame Her (I think subconsciously, I was forgiving myself as well).  While crying, I was able to put some words together about how I felt and why.  It was a personal, if not a sexual, relief.&lt;br /&gt;Then I had sex.  I had sex because I DID need a good f*ck.  I called my life mate upstairs, he saw that I had damp, red eyes and asked "what's wrong?" and I just said "I'm fine now, but I want some sex"...this isn't exactly easy for HIM because he'd rather have sex when I have laughter in my eyes, but, hey, you don't always get the glee.  Sometimes, you won't even get my full attention, but I still want it and need the close, physical, emotional contact.  Sometimes, it just needs to be happening, and if I'm able to fully involve myself, I will do so.   &lt;br /&gt;The sex was very good, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;btw&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Then I did the post-sex-sitting-on-the-toilet-to-pee (because it's good for your urinary tract to pee after sex)-confession-talk.  He was lying on the floor outside the bathroom, taking it in, but also probably trying to stay awake.&lt;br /&gt;We've both been busy.  I missed him and wanted to know that we would have some sort of getaway in the near future.  I felt guilty for feeling stressed because I was so busy, especially since it was all really good stuff; clients, plans with friends, camping, etc.  These are good!  However, I had forgotten to schedule days off for myself.  I need those open evenings/days to work out, to cut fruit and veggies, to watch The Office (and Weeds 2, soon!), to have laughter-in-my-eyes sex.  That is so obvious, and I am always telling my clients and friends to do these things (clarification, I don't give my clients sex advice, I just suggest to take time for themselves). &lt;br /&gt;I need to take my own advice. &lt;br /&gt;I will be fine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-7848788677273080869?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/7848788677273080869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=7848788677273080869' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7848788677273080869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7848788677273080869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/08/crying-donuts-and-orgasms-do-not-always.html' title='Crying, donuts, and orgasms do not always go together.'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-2187584687073066633</id><published>2007-08-22T09:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T12:05:39.232-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Settled=Content</title><content type='html'>I've been feeling antsy this week.  I have six clients scheduled over the course of seven days, I need to start thinking about packing for camping, I need to schedule a time for my discussion group in September, I have to know I have a haircut scheduled soon (I am feeling frumpier every day-I don't know if I can withstand the growing out process.  I might cut it again.), and I have, like, three pregnant friends I want to check in with. &lt;br /&gt;The camping trip I need to prepare for was supposed to include me, Pete, my friend Angie, and her b-friend Andy.  This would have been the third consecutive year we camped together, and I was looking forward to it because we reserved a small camping cabin near Tettegouche Falls instead of tenting it.  Tenting once a year is fine, but it was either tents or food, and food won.  We ate too many of those just-add-water dinners.  I retained water like a buffalo that weekend (do they retain water?  Probably not.  I think we are the only mammals who do so.)  By not packing the tents, we were allowing for more Real Food room.  Well, we will have plenty of god damn food room because both my guy and Angie's guy didn't get off of work.  In my guy's case, it is the busiest time of year, and so, he couldn't do it.  The issue here is that he knew this ahead of time, but wasn't listening when we made the reservation, so on and so on.  Angie's guy just recently decided to ASK for the time off,  and, he didn't get it.  I have bitched about this so many times that I feel like the resentment has to almost be gone, but every time I start in on it, it comes back.  WTF!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;So, it will be Girl Time.  It will enjoyable, but if I really had to choose what to do for Girl Time it wouldn't be camping.  I like the outdoors and I really love the Northshore, but I never know what to bring or how much.  I was also really looking forward to having time with Pete, even if we weren't always alone.  Yup, I'm still bitter.  I need to see this a much-needed opportunity to bond with nature, get out of the city, and relax.  I love laying on the rocks.&lt;br /&gt;Onto the pregnant friends and sister...there's really nothing else that will grab a hold of you and scream "You are getting older!" than a close friend saying she's pregnant.  I don't know if it's because I grew up in a small town and have those roots that say you must have a child (once you are married, of course) by the time you are 20, but when I hear that another one of "me" is with child, I gasp.  The most recent annoucement was a very pleasant surprise, and it was also an annoucement that made me realize it's becoming more and more ok.  I know I'll have children someday, but I wish I'd quit thinking about it as the "end point" of my "other life".  I am very much settled in; I'm married, own a home, have worked at the same company for almost five years...yeah...but there is so much I need to do before I want to be a mother.  Next summer I will be taking my first out of the US trip to Norway.  I'm not well traveled, even though I'm open to it.  There are always many reasons to not travel; money, time, and not to mention all those very dangerous people OUTSIDE our country.  I've heard awful things about Canadians.  Really though, I've just been doing other things.&lt;br /&gt;Being settled is not a negative thing.  I feel I'm "settled", but in a comfortable sort of way, not a closed, trapped way.  I have to admit though, I've been living life in that "what's next" mode.  I think it's a  habit from being in school, and being a scheduled, organized person, but it's starting to get better.  I am able to stay in the moment for longer, which is a big emotional accomplishment for me. &lt;br /&gt;I am someone who needs to feel settled.  I don't need a lot of stuff.  It's more about reaching that place inside when you feel safe and are able to sleep well.  There will always be a lot going on around me, but I'm most content when I can take in a healthy balance.  I don't need or want all of it.  Not yet and not all at once.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-2187584687073066633?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/2187584687073066633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=2187584687073066633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/2187584687073066633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/2187584687073066633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/08/settledcontent.html' title='Settled=Content'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-6477597628659273064</id><published>2007-08-16T12:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T13:01:12.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Week</title><content type='html'>The work week has been incredibly busy for me.  I've been covering for a co-worker who is out on vacation, along with doing my regular job.  Luckily, my regular job isn't too busy stressful this time of year, so I really haven't had many problems handling the work load. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is in Ironwood, MI right now trying to help her mother die peacefully.  I mean, she is making sure she's comfortable, has her oxygen tank, eats at least something (she likes warm liquid lime jello), and she is trying to make her sister, who has been the primary caregiver, eat something besides lettuce and cottage cheese.  It's a weird, sick house, and I feel lucky to not have to be there, but full of guilt for not wanting to be there.  I hope that when I am dying no one feels guilty.  I really hope that when it happens, it won't be a long period of sadness and waiting, and the mourning itself is full and plenty, so that my loved ones can move on.  I don't want to be forgotten, but I don't want to be the reason that holds anyone back from living.  My perspective on dying isn't completely clear to me, but I think I feel like the afterlife will be a great gathering place.  I mean, I love life, but I hope EVERYONE can love their afterlife.  I believe everyone has regular, healthy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;BM's&lt;/span&gt; in the afterlife, and the poo just disappears. &lt;br /&gt;In all seriousness, I love my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;gramma&lt;/span&gt;, and I really have been praying for her to have a peaceful death, and soon.  There is no point in her suffering for one more moment.&lt;br /&gt;A couple days ago, my brother was arrested outside the house of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;meth&lt;/span&gt; dealer.  He was only found with a pipe, but was handcuffed outside the house for two hours...this house is located on a busier street in my small home town.  I would have preferred him to be caught with more so that he would go to jail and be out of my parent's home.  I can't remember when I started to wish for things like that, but I never thought I'd be that person.  I don't feel too bad about it though.  I'm sick of him hurting my parents, my family, and himself.  I don't want him to hurt anyone else, and I know that for him to stop something BIG needs/will to happen.  That terrifies me.  Him hurting someone else, someone innocent, is worse, in my opinion, than him hurting himself.  Should I say I feel heartless?  Probably.  But I don't.  I just know that regret runs deep, and he already has enough he needs to work through (not that he's started).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, it's been a busy week, and I need to keep working.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-6477597628659273064?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/6477597628659273064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=6477597628659273064' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/6477597628659273064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/6477597628659273064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/08/this-week.html' title='This Week'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-5962321460453289259</id><published>2007-08-10T06:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T08:37:16.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Opportunities and Responsibilities</title><content type='html'>I am thoroughly enjoying my iced tea today.  I brewed it this morning, so it's real and fresh.  Well, I guess I don't know how old the bags were...but I feel good about this.  Yum.  I feel like it opens up my throat, and with this humidity, I need something to open me up and clear my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the pleasure of being able to visit with some college friends last night.  I was able to work on both of them, which was an honor.  I really mean that.  Bodywork is a very intimate thing, and it's not always easy to accept, so when someone opens themselves up to me, I feel honored and very thankful.  There is much in our world that is closed off and locked up, and it's always invigorating to be able to share calmness and peace with another person.  It's the exchange of energy, the awakening of spirits, and just a moment that can be &lt;em&gt;easy&lt;/em&gt; and good.&lt;br /&gt;We also had dinner together and great conversation.  They live in the same state, but we, unfortunately, only see each other maybe once a year.  I want that to change.  I am going to make a fall trip...it just needs to happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reminded last night of one of the reasons I decided to start blogging in the first place.  I wanted to write again, and hand written &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;journaling&lt;/span&gt; wasn't happening for me.  I wasn't disciplined enough, and, quite honestly, I write too slowly for the speed of my thoughts (this isn't me saying I'm excelled, it's me saying I can be completely manic on the most regular of days). &lt;br /&gt;This past year, I had an incident at work that made me realize I needed an outlet again.  I needed to find an outlet that I would use, and that I could share.  I had thoughts that I really felt swallowed by, and an itch to throw them around.  A co-worker and I got into a heated &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt; about gay marriage.  I'm a believer of equality.  He, obviously, is not...or at least not for ALL people.  I won' t go into the verbiage, because there's too much.  What bothered me the most was the look in his eyes.  He's a great guy.  A funny, smart, nice guy, but what was that!?!  The look was so hateful and angry, and it stirred something in me, my own anger and despise, for Hateful People.  I could have walked away, and I almost did, because I got so mad, and we were at work.  Luckily, the room that this altercation happened in was a secured, badge-only entrance space.  The conversation went on for a good half hour, until another co-worker entered the room, and we were interrupted.  After that co-worker left, there was a silence that I would normally laugh at, but I felt so much disappointment.  He tried to laugh off the whole incident by saying "You got really mad", as though he had been "kidding" the whole time.  But I called him on it, making sure he knew that I knew he HAD NOT been kidding around, and that I knew he was trying to laugh it off now.  He didn't say much.  I normally cannot debate well, because I stumble around, get choked up, and if I get too passionate, I want to cry.  It's not pretty, and it's hardly influential.  This time, however, I was able to form words and sentences and they flowed out of me without tripping over each other.  I even made eye contact and refrained from too much hands-on-the-hips-I'm-an-angry-little-mom action.  Thank God, I left my hips out of it.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, my delivery is a small part of this story.  It was important to me that he knew I was disappointed and angry that he had those views.  I wanted him to know that, because I like him, it made me sad that he had so much hate.  He didn't say anything to that.  It was uncomfortable, and that was completely appropriate.  It would have been an act of cowardice to have made it comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;What do you do?  What do you do when you truly like a person, but they have views that are not only different politically, but also different and conflicting on a humane level?  He hates that people are gay.  Does he hate all gay people?  No, I really don't think he does, but how can you be so consumed with disgust and anger because a man loves another man, or a woman wants to adopt a child with another woman?  How does their love affect you so much that the sparkle in your eyes turns into something beady and sharp? &lt;br /&gt;Without hesitation, I still like this guy.  I do not like his views, and I hope that he was able to see how his own hate affects how someone sees him.  He knows we are friends and I wonder if he considers how I could distance myself from him because he has this darkness, but I don't.  I feel like that wouldn't change anything, and even though you aren't supposed to want to "change" a friend, I hope that I can help him.  Is that arrogant to want to "help" someone not hate?  Do I have that ability, or even the energy? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I needed to write again.  Where else can you put these questions?  How can someone hold onto all the questions they have and not spread them out and let them connect with others?  I hope these concerns I have can find their match out there and become louder.  I don't think there is even an answer, but maybe if they are loud enough, everyone will at least listen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-5962321460453289259?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/5962321460453289259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=5962321460453289259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5962321460453289259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5962321460453289259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/08/opportunities-and-responsibilities.html' title='Opportunities and Responsibilities'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-3418236112842172728</id><published>2007-08-08T08:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T12:00:58.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Want To Do</title><content type='html'>Lists are wonderful.  They help clear my head, organize my thoughts, and I like to cross out things I've accomplished and say DONE.  I am constantly making lists; chores, groceries, projects, books to read, etc.  On my fridge is a list labeled "To Do Before Snow Falls", but previous to that title it read,  "To Do This Summer", but even putting that label on it caused anxiety. The little fingers in my mind started to page through my planner &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;frantically&lt;/span&gt;, and I realized that I have to stop doing that to myself.  Deadlines are good, but not when you know it will be a complete struggle to accomplish the task at hand (especially when the task is "organize cards", meaning Birthday, Sympathy, Greeting...and so on.  I like to plan ahead.)&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I was browsing some other blogs (which I intend on putting a link to one of these days), and I LOVE reading people's lists of To Do, Goals, even packing lists.  It brings me joy to view other's attempts at organization and focus.  I came across a list titled "Things I Want to Do", and they were given short term, long term &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;time lines&lt;/span&gt;.  This was a fun one, so I've decided to do the same, but I'm making separate work, career, and personal lists.  Eventually, they all blend, but it takes a different part of the brain to "manage" (attack?  find?  Enjoy?  I hope so!).  Here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;.  I started the separate list approach, but I think I'll make one, big To Do list.  I need to start the blending NOW...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Things I Want To Do&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-work on at least one new client every month&lt;br /&gt;-retain clients&lt;br /&gt;-work on at least five clients each month&lt;br /&gt;-learn more about cupping techniques&lt;br /&gt;-take at least one workshop a year&lt;br /&gt;-have monthly discussion groups with former classmates&lt;br /&gt;-volunteer my shiatsu once every couple months&lt;br /&gt;-volunteer at a woman's shelter or Center for Victims of Torture&lt;br /&gt;-meditate/stretch before client arrive&lt;br /&gt;-meditate/stretch after client leaves&lt;br /&gt;-get back into creative editing within the next two years&lt;br /&gt;-reach five year mark at current job (March!)&lt;br /&gt;-revise resume for creative editing positions&lt;br /&gt;-travel to Norway&lt;br /&gt;-travel out of the country at least once every two years starting next year (Canada counts!)&lt;br /&gt;-bike more with life mate&lt;br /&gt;-bike more by myself&lt;br /&gt;-take walks in morning before work&lt;br /&gt;-walk my dog more and longer distances, patiently allow him to sniff all trees&lt;br /&gt;-"Cute Up" my bike (pink grips and tires, new pedals, stickers from Northern Sun) to make it more ME&lt;br /&gt;-continue to purchase most groceries at co-op&lt;br /&gt;-buy local and organic as much as possible.  Local before organic.&lt;br /&gt;-buy Christmas gifts this year  from non-profit, local, and co-op organizations.  No Target.  No malls (thank god)&lt;br /&gt;-Get some color in my hair for the fall (red streaks?)&lt;br /&gt;-Try &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ashiatsu&lt;/span&gt; at Spot Spa&lt;br /&gt;-Organize my cards, make more&lt;br /&gt;-Buy less cards and give away handmade ones instead&lt;br /&gt;-learn to cook tofu dishes that aren't gross&lt;br /&gt;-cook more soup&lt;br /&gt;-put up curtains in shiatsu room and bathroom&lt;br /&gt;-bring extra furniture, movies, clothes to sister&lt;br /&gt;-visit family more often&lt;br /&gt;-put up family pictures and picture of map&lt;br /&gt;-remove wallpaper in hallway and paint hallway&lt;br /&gt;-put up new cupboard faces, remove wallpaper, paint, and new lighting in kitchen (in next couple years)&lt;br /&gt;-help life mate start basement, but then step back because this project will go on for years&lt;br /&gt;-lift weights at least twice a week&lt;br /&gt;-stretch for at least ten minutes daily&lt;br /&gt;-go to bed by 10pm, or earlier, on week nights&lt;br /&gt;-think positive thoughts once in bed&lt;br /&gt;-think positive thoughts as much as possible, or at least more often than negative thoughts&lt;br /&gt;-breathe deeply&lt;br /&gt;-pray&lt;br /&gt;-have more spontaneous sex...with life mate...and self&lt;br /&gt;-get into some good, fun books&lt;br /&gt;-continue to grow out hair&lt;br /&gt;-smile upon waking, no matter how early it is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;more to come....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-3418236112842172728?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/3418236112842172728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=3418236112842172728' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3418236112842172728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3418236112842172728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-i-want-to-do.html' title='Things I Want To Do'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-6262893060646723749</id><published>2007-08-02T06:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T06:34:13.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Night</title><content type='html'>I came out of my acupuncture appointment last night when I heard the news of the bridge collapse.  I wanted to cry immediately.  Was this because of the news?  PMS?  Acupuncture?  When I got outside the clinic I tried calling my husband.  Three times.  I started to think about him and how there wasn't a reason for him to use that bridge, but what if he had?  I thanked God that people (typically) don't bike across it, and that most of our friends lived in the city, so wouldn't use it.  Right?  Right?  Finally, he called me back, almost irritated by all my phone calls.  I knew he didn't know yet, but I still loudly asked "Where WERE you!?!"  He had been mowing the lawn, and had no idea what had happened.  We live about three miles from the bridge.  Isn't that weird?  It's just strange to think that there are people living much, much closer, but they probably weren't actually on it.  How can you be so close to a disaster, but not be a direct part of it? &lt;br /&gt;My mom was able to get through to me, but after speaking to her, my phone stopped accepting calls.  The urgency in my mom's voice made my throat close up, just as it always has during heightened circumstances, as though to keep the screaming in.  My chest felt very tight last night, and even when I cried, it wasn't enough.  We have very little control over things like this. &lt;br /&gt;There's a big part of me that isn't acknowledging it, not outwardly anyways.  I prayed last night and again this morning as I watched the helicopters fly the rescued away.  I really feel like keeping to myself for awhile, out of respect, and almost out of guilt that I live so close, but will be able to continue my life as usual.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-6262893060646723749?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/6262893060646723749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=6262893060646723749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/6262893060646723749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/6262893060646723749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/08/last-night.html' title='Last Night'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-7915461078258588616</id><published>2007-07-30T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T12:57:35.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rebel Nester</title><content type='html'>I have watched my boss walk back and forth about 15 times today, and I am still choosing to blog.  I feel &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;rebellious&lt;/span&gt; and justified.  I feel like every want I have, I will satisfy it, so that is why I am blogging with an Arnold Palmer (half lemonade, half ice tea) and these great blueberry fig newtons next to me. &lt;br /&gt;I had a great weekend.  I have read that the days before a woman starts to menstruate, she partakes in "nesting behavior".  I felt a comfort in discovering this, because I have noticed this in myself.  I actually ran myself a bit ragged going through boxes, making piles, making lists, packing stuff away, and building a pile in the middle of the bedroom (because if a pile is there, and all is moved away from the walls, we will surely get the painting done, right?).  I also nurtured myself by re-potting a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cyclamen&lt;/span&gt; and trimming the raspberry bushes.  It felt good to have earth-dirty hands and knees, sun-inspired sweat, and even a few raspberry-thorn claw marks on my arms (I am not a cutter!).  I even made the decision to remove one of the bushes come fall and try planting something else there in the spring (green pepper plant???).  When I opened the garage door to put the potting soil back, I re-discovered an old dresser that came from my husband's grandpa's house.  I stared at it for a second, closed the garage door, started to lock it, and then realized that it was absolutely perfect for our living room.  I dragged it out myself and somehow carried it to the backyard.  It WILL be perfect once I sand and paint it.  I am determined to do this in the next couple weeks.  I purposely set it very close to the backdoor so it's an inconvenience.  Ha!  I'm so good at tricking myself.&lt;br /&gt;Let me say this; I LOVE reusing.  I love that we (life mate and I) are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; with just moving furniture around versus buying new and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;moremoremore&lt;/span&gt;.  I love that this dusty dresser will fit in, and look totally cool, in our living room.  I love it.&lt;br /&gt;This evening, we are going to go through our old &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;VHS's&lt;/span&gt; and make more piles.  I think I can safely say that I won't miss Fatherhood.  It always made me feel uncomfortable.  We will, however, never hand off this educational (?) anti-sex video I received in the 8&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade.  We still pop that in when friends come by.  I have a feeling our friends may be getting some rectangular &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;gifts&lt;/span&gt; for Xmas.  *laugh track*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-7915461078258588616?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/7915461078258588616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=7915461078258588616' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7915461078258588616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7915461078258588616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/07/rebel-nester.html' title='Rebel Nester'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-5265142857171437001</id><published>2007-07-25T08:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T09:07:23.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex</title><content type='html'>There's nothing that a good workout, good pizza, good cookies, and good sex can't heal.  I had been feeling very disconnected from myself in the past couple weeks, and part of it was the lack of sex.  The other parts had nothing to do with sex.  Wait a minute.  Part of it had to do with my pregnant sister, and she DID have to have sex to reach her present "with child" state, so...&lt;br /&gt;Ok.  The sex part is my thing, leave my family out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel sex is discussed positively enough in our society.  Sexual deviance and sexual crimes certainly rank high on the Talked About scale, but the health benefits, variations on technique, and sexual satisfaction only seem popular in small, private settings.  I, myself, am not someone who wishes to discuss these things with just ANYONE, but I wish the opportunities were easier to come (ha!) by.  Ok, right there, me using ( ) around come...is that just silly, or does that expose my own discomfort with the topic?  I don't think I'm uncomfortable with the topic, but maybe we all have a certain degree of discomfort.  I was raised Catholic.  My parents never talked about sex.  OH, WAIT!  My dad DID claim (to my mom) that he gave us the sex talk (he didn't say "sex talk", I'm sure he said "I explained how pregnancy happens").  I'm afraid the day when my dad explained what cows did when they were in heat was the How Pregnancy Happens day as well.  I do remember it.  It was summer and the cows were grazing and cud-chewing the pasture behind our house.  One cow was making loud, hot puffing noises and then, suddenly, jumped on top of another cow (This made her a lesbian, but I didn't clarify that with dad).  I saw this as the cow being mean and bullying the bottom cow, and, feeling visually victimized, pointed it out to my dad.  He looked over and, without skipping a beat, said "She's in heat and will be pregnant soon". &lt;br /&gt;That was it. &lt;br /&gt;I was nervous all summer long, for it was quite humid, we didn't have AC, and I felt In Heat myself. &lt;br /&gt;What a deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sex education aside, I hold pregnancy and sex apart.  I have never been pregnant, and I really don't know when that will happen.  I do enjoy sex; thinking about it, doing it, trying new positions, and then being able to talk about it with friends.  I think most people will agree that the act of, and the desired frequency, vary between men and women.  I have gone through phases where I want it all the time, where I feel it's a hassle, where I wish the orgasm would be guaranteed.  Orgasm!  There's a topic!  Hmm...that's another blog entirely.  I had meant to stay more focused on the reconnecting of body/mind/soul in this blog.  Oh, I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was good, that's what I wanted to say.  I felt both an emotional and physical need for sex.  It was a need to be as close as possible to my husband, my rock, and for my own body to have time for herself.&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, my husband went biking, and I had time to myself...with my vibrator.  I actually exclaimed, "Thank God!" when I climaxed.  Because REALLY.  Seriously.  AH. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel much better today.  Balanced.  Thank God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-5265142857171437001?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/5265142857171437001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=5265142857171437001' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5265142857171437001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/5265142857171437001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/07/sex.html' title='Sex'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-3495559190172039425</id><published>2007-07-18T06:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T06:45:18.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Neighbor and Roseanne</title><content type='html'>The other morning, at 4am, my husband and I woke up to the sounds of our drunk neighbor talking on her cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor: "Hey! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Haaaaaay&lt;/span&gt;...Victoria, are you there? (laughter) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Noooo&lt;/span&gt;. Yeah. I just barfed. (hard laughter) I threw up on my arm."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was actually really awesome, despite being woken up so early. Unfortunately, this is why we can't sleep with the windows open during the week nights. I love this particular neighbor girl, but we have some real loud assholes on our street. I suppose it's not right to call children assholes, but they are assholes when it's 11pm and they are screaming at each other to "Shut the f*ck up, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nigga&lt;/span&gt;". I feel like when this happens, I can't get involved, because I'm white, I'm lame for being in bed, I'm afraid of what they might do to my dog, and, the big one, their mother is usually nearby and would be more upset by me stepping in than her child speaking so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;foully&lt;/span&gt;. I'm so thankful my mom was intolerant of her children swearing or talking trashy. She wouldn't even let us watch Roseanne. She was thoroughly disgusted with Roseanne. Roseanne never swore on the show, but she was a loud woman with an obnoxious sounding voice. Also, her husband showed obvious desire for her, sometimes in front of DJ the boy, and that probably grossed my mom out. I wanted to be Darlene, until I realized their economic status, then I went back to wanting to be Stephanie or DJ on Full House. Looking back, I realize that would have been a highly inappropriate way to hook up with John &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Stamos&lt;/span&gt;. Or Bob &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Saget&lt;/span&gt;. Sorry Dave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wondered often, throughout the day following the throwing-up-on-arm event, if she had washed herself off, or if she just went to bed. I always think about those things. If she didn't wash herself, I wonder if she washed her sheets the next day. She is a cat person though, and they tend to be more tolerable of dirty sheets.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-3495559190172039425?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/3495559190172039425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=3495559190172039425' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3495559190172039425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3495559190172039425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-neighbor-and-roseanne.html' title='My Neighbor and Roseanne'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-7028302553940374621</id><published>2007-07-16T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T13:10:14.320-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tough Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='irritation'/><title type='text'>I Will Not Be Like Them</title><content type='html'>I cut my thumb yesterday when I was slicing a potato.  I was using a ridged knife, so I think I actually felt it "ridge cut" the tip of my thumb.  This is not good for someone who applies thumb pressure for therapy throughout the week.  After doing clumsy things like this, I always lecture myself on slowing down,  being more mindful, etc.  I wonder if anyone is that mindful.  Sometimes reminding oneself to be mindful actually causes more distress.&lt;br /&gt;I had a very painful conversation with my mom yesterday afternoon (this is after the ridge cut incident, and it's unrelated...or is it?) regarding her depression over not being able to have my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nieces&lt;/span&gt; spend the night at her place.  This was a (difficult) decision my sister and brother-in-law felt they had to make, and enforce, to contribute to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-enabling of my brother's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;meth&lt;/span&gt; use.  Basically, my sister doesn't want her kids being around someone who is using &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;meth&lt;/span&gt;.  No, he isn't always a wreck, and has never done anything to harm them.  It's the "what if" and "when" that are looming.  It's been extremely difficult for my mom, because she is used to seeing them once a week.  My brother is living at my parent's house and, even though he can be an asshole, they are not kicking him out.  The conversation was painful not only because I felt sad, but I felt intense irritation.  I felt irritated because DAMN IT!  Stand up for yourself.  You know you'd rather be around your beautiful &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;grand kids&lt;/span&gt; than your selfish son, so give him the boot!  Find your happiness!  Don't let HIM rob you of that joy!  FUCK! &lt;br /&gt;It would absolutely be hard to tell my dad that my brother has to go.  It would absolutely be hard to tell him (especially if he was decent that particular day) that he needs to find his own place.  It will continue to suck though, if you don't do these things.  Try.&lt;br /&gt;I wrote my mom an email today saying these things (using different wording and omitting all curses).  I feel like I'm Tough Loving her.  I'm just sick of the "I can't do anything about this" attitude.  It's bullshit.  The action is not easy, but it is a possible solution, so DO IT.  Gawd. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I can have kids knowing full well the possibility of betrayal, pain, helplessness, and resentment lies in wait.    I don't know if the promise of all the opposites are enough for me.  I can hardly handle it when my husband doesn't seem considerate to my feelings/needs.  Why would a child, a teen, a young adult??? &lt;br /&gt;But I do believe things can be different.  My life mate (I love this term) and I are different from my parents.  We will certainly have less children.  We reside in a much more urban setting.  So, how much of this plays a part?  Am I afraid of what I, genetically, will contribute?  Does my heart have to be joyous over raising a child to raise a Good Person? &lt;br /&gt;Yup.  I'm waiting awhile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-7028302553940374621?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/7028302553940374621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=7028302553940374621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7028302553940374621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/7028302553940374621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-will-not-be-like-them.html' title='I Will Not Be Like Them'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-1102074525472123538</id><published>2007-07-10T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T06:40:28.104-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breath'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shiatsu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breathing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='energy'/><title type='text'>Breathing</title><content type='html'>I had a shiatsu session last night with Ben. He's really good. Everyone will have a different opinion of "good" when it comes to bodywork, depending on what they need and the energy they exchange with the other person and the atmosphere around them. It seemed like the topic was breathing. During our intake, I told Ben how I had been very uncomfortable the day before with cramps and how I tried to breathe through them. I tried to go into the pain and smooth it out with my breath, my energy. This lead to a discussion on "child's breath", and how children breathe, naturally, from their abdomen, and how we, as we become adults, seem to breathe from higher up. Any breath is good, but we can easily forget how to just breath.&lt;br /&gt;Breathing is something I am trying to work on, mindful breathing, that is. When I catch myself thinking tense (not necessarily negative) thoughts, I take into consideration how I am holding my body. Often times, my chest and upper back are elevated, almost stuck, in place. I want to focus on Dropping my breath and Gathering my breath from my deepest core, letting my abdomen fill and expand, and then it can slowly move up and out.&lt;br /&gt;Something else that helps when I notice tension in my shoulders and neck is to bunch it all up, TIGHT, and then Whooooooooooooo.......let it all out and feel how your shoulders just loosen....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all in the breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might start attending a Qi Gong class on Thursday evenings. I had an introductory course in school, but even though I found it helpful, I just wasn't "in the mood". You know how that goes with classes. You can love it, but it's still something you have to go to (and pay for) and work at. I know breathing and moving energy is natural, but I think I need some guidance with it. Also, how wonderful to be in a room full of people who want to breathe deeper? I could use that positive energy.&lt;br /&gt;It's something I'd like to do, but I often have clients on Thursday evenings. We'll see. Perhaps I need a sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been quite aware of my tendency towards anger, irritation, and cattiness these days. It's draining and I know I need to...breathe differently. I watch my husband, and he seems to breathe from his abdomen. He is much more laid back than me, and even though I'm glad for that, it makes me feel that I carry a heavier "load". I don't really believe this to be true, I just think he can let things go easier??? Is this a female vs. male sort of tendency?&lt;br /&gt;I need to go back to the basics (I don't know if I have ever really been there).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is Mindful Breathing Day for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-1102074525472123538?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/1102074525472123538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=1102074525472123538' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1102074525472123538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1102074525472123538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/07/breathing.html' title='Breathing'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-1644683178430399880</id><published>2007-07-04T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-04T07:23:30.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My bathroom is always clean enough</title><content type='html'>If I don't start now, I don't when I would start.  I'm talking about living in the actual day that surrounds me.  The day I'm actually in, presently, currently, NOW.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a planner, an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;obsess-er&lt;/span&gt;, a recovering neat freak, and I'm anxious.&lt;br /&gt;I am working on all these things.  I try to not plan out the entire weekend, try not to have a list that includes "shower" or "time with  vibrator", because, really...how climatic is THAT?  Since graduating from college for the second time, I've become better about preoccupations and handling anxieties.  Much better.  I used to sleepwalk like Fred &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Flinstone&lt;/span&gt;, and was just about as "clubby".  I think I was probably considered pretty normal, for a student.  It's terribly stressful being a student, working, and having a life besides.  The Clean Freak in me has had to be restrained.  I have to not let myself clean the bathrooms more than twice a month.  They really don't need it.  I've gotten good at, and it certainly does take a load off, ignoring (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, it's actually the most acutely aware ignorance you'll ever come across) the floor having a bit of that "sandy" feeling.  I feel pride in my ability (when I can do it) to focus on something more important, like people, or a good book, or my dog.&lt;br /&gt;It's all about control, and we all have ways of dealing with lack of control.  When I was 13 and my mom was very ill, I'd sweep the kitchen floor about 15 times a day.  It was never clean enough and I would have tears in my eyes over this impossibility.  Well, that coping mechanism eventually blossomed into self medication and la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;dee&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;da&lt;/span&gt;....I'm better now.&lt;br /&gt;Back to my main point; I feel like I still have this contingency plan in my head "If this is done, then this will happen" or "When that part of life is over,  then I will begin to work on that".  I could do that forever!  I'm at a super great place in my life, and I still have this part of me that feels unfinished, like the list has a few more items, and those items are stopping me from really enjoying these beautiful days.  Does everyone think that way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is great.  Today I'm going to be with some friends I love to pieces.  We are challenging our bodies on this grand 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of July day, and sweating with friends is a blessing.  It will be an interesting day, because some extra friends are coming along and they are...not always tolerable.  It's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; though.  They have their own challenges ahead.  Maybe they are working on being less exhausting to other people, while I'm trying to not feel exhausted with my own thoughts.  We will all get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God Bless America.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-1644683178430399880?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/1644683178430399880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=1644683178430399880' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1644683178430399880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/1644683178430399880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-bathroom-is-always-clean-enough.html' title='My bathroom is always clean enough'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-8929510739929201796</id><published>2007-06-28T06:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T07:36:32.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finances and Goals</title><content type='html'>Whoa, what a totally boring title...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a bodyworker. I feel fortunate that I have been able to pursue this career, even if only on the side. My real job is what pays the bills, but I don't mind that either. I am grateful for this, but I still feel a bit stifled. I wish I didn't have to spend the majority of my work week at a job I "don't mind". Basically, I love my co-workers, it's not stressful, we have a busy season, and it's tolerable, but I don't love the work I do. I'm never really proud of what I accomplish in a day. I have felt more pride in waxing our wood floors than I ever have over what I do every single day. I also fear becoming stuck. I am way too comfortable with my job, so comfortable that a challenging day has more to do with office politics than it does with my skill set. On the other hand, I'm thankful for this comfort, because it's allowed me to focus on building my practice up. While I was in school, I spent a lot of work hours studying for tests. This was sneaky, but really, it was that or reading CNN all day long (Ok, fine, or televisionwithoutpity). Also, many of my co-workers have become regular clients. It really has worked out. I just know that I need to move on in the next year or two. It's much less about the money than it is about personal goals. I want to do more, and I know if I don't move on soon, I will be labeled Too Specific in my field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would also like to make more money, and I know I could. Money is a horrid pain in the ass, but that's mainly the case when you don't have enough of it. I have become more responsible about budgeting and saving. My priority is to prevent financial discomfort and be more than just caught up. I want a back-up for emergencies; car repairs, home issues, family troubles. I do have a 401K through my full time job, and I just recently started a savings account. I want to not use the credit card for gas. That is so stupid, and I become very irritated with my own dependence every time I fill up. I also realize that if I am doing it on occasion, there are many others who do it consistently. Scary scary scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This leads me to the home buying topic. I think if my husband and I knew then what we know now, we might have waited to buy a home. I love our house most of the time, but I sometimes wish we had waited. Also, I am not good with long term projects, and home is one BIG long term project. Our home is old and has character, but the basement walls are also falling off/over/around, and my husband wants to fix that and finish the basement. I just want to check out altogether. I can barely handle the idea of wallpaper removal, which is one of the worse jobs ever, and taping before painting. If it were up to me, our walls wouldn't look so smooth because I would have done a half-ass sand down. I like little projects. Like organizing files or rearranging the magnets on the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having a home will not prevent us from traveling, and even though we have threatened the walls around us with going back to renting, we know it wouldn't be a good financial move. Also, the basement will be worked on, and I'll have to get over that anxiety. Ultimately, you do what you truly want to do. We are in the process of discussing travel plans with another couple. It will happen, and the home will stay put.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-8929510739929201796?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/8929510739929201796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=8929510739929201796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/8929510739929201796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/8929510739929201796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/06/finances-and-goals.html' title='Finances and Goals'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-4381196317005503931</id><published>2007-06-27T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T06:31:44.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Biked to Work</title><content type='html'>I feel really strong today. I biked to work (I'm trying to do this once a week) and I fought the wind the whole way (13 miles). I knew I would feel good about it, but the ride was tough. Once I'm out of the city, I try to slow down a bit (not pedal-wise, but mentally) and take in the change of scenery. The lush green colors, the smell of natural lakes (the ones that have been there for years and years), how the cool, heaviness of the trees and plants feel as I bike over a wooden walk bridge. I wish I could be quieter going over it, but I can actually see animals scurry away. I wonder if they are irritated by us humans, or just passively curious. Biking through a suburban park makes me love the city more. I appreciate the break, but I am also resentful that there isn't more of it. I guess it's easy to take the responsibility off of myself if I live in an already formed city, and not a constantly forest/land-demolishing suburb. I realize that by not working in the city, where I live, I also contribute to the environmental issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I try to not think of these things, but instead meditate on the simple wonders and natural occurrences that take place around me. I even bike on some gravel for part of the ride!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have an interesting route. It takes me from one end of economic status to the other. You can tell by the noise level, the appearance of homes/shelter, the smells, the supervision of children, or lack there of, even by the dogs. I live in the city, and consider myself middle class, whatever that means, and I do feel like I choose to live more simply. I'm not so biased to think that there aren't plenty of suburbanites who also live simply, but from what I observe, I feel much less complicated. That's quite funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope it doesn't sound like I am just a great, big generalization-er. I can be, for sure, but I recognize that there are pockets of all kinds of people everywhere. I don't actually think that children are always supervised in the 'burbs, or even always cared for. I also realize that there are some well-to-do mofos living in some of those run down houses. Sneaky b*stards, just waiting to jump out at you and yell "JUST KIDDING! I'M NOT STARVING!"&lt;br /&gt;To witness that would be a great Observation While Commuting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll let you know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-4381196317005503931?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/4381196317005503931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=4381196317005503931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/4381196317005503931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/4381196317005503931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-feel-really-strong-today.html' title='Biked to Work'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-3426099373077999006</id><published>2007-06-26T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-26T11:49:35.448-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Request</title><content type='html'>I need to write daily. I want to need to write daily. I want to enjoy needing to write daily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing is an outlet, and I know I need that. I used to be able to make anything seem better by writing about it, writing creative nonfiction, poetry, or even little wisps of personal reflection. I tried doing sketching in my journals and I embarrassed myself. I'm not a sketcher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since the intervention with some family members, one has lost his job (indirectly related to the drug use. I think.), one hasn't really spoken to the family, and another pregnant family member is actually considering LIVING with one of the users. God. Damn. It.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what do I write about this? Right there is the incident, the Happenings, but where do I go from there? Writing from experience has heart, but it's also very scary. Putting yourself out there, exposing those emotions that are very acute and raw, is difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just talked with my pregnant sister, literally, and I think she'll stick to her plan. She knows she can't stay with someone who uses. She needs to start her own life away from the murk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. I feel much more hopeful all of sudden. This game of helplessness and hopefulness can be so exhausting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really just want them to live, to stay alive, and to not keep killing themselves. How do you ask someone that without breaking down?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, could you please quit killing yourselves?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think you could just plan on living and not die by choice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please. Please quit killing yourselves. Thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-3426099373077999006?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/3426099373077999006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=3426099373077999006' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3426099373077999006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/3426099373077999006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/06/request.html' title='Request'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144268540191183588.post-421727730671339380</id><published>2007-06-23T14:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-23T15:11:32.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Introduce or Not</title><content type='html'>I don't want to start with some silly introduction, but I always journal that way.  It drives me nuts, but it's the writer  in me.  Introduce, then produce.  I completely just made that up.  I'm so happy it rhymes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to start this blog because I feel I will better keep up with my writing, or, to some degree, start writing again.  I also, like many others, need an outlet for the negative, positive, and neutral energy that seems to whip around me at times.  Lately, I have been trying to peacefully compromise my worlds, and it doesn't feel like it's working too well.  I am hoping this could be a solution of sorts, or maybe I will just enjoy it enough that my worlds can continue colliding until they learn to just get along.  I won't tell you my name, but I am sometimes passive, sometimes aggressive, and I do sometimes just wish for things to take care of themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forced myself to write in my pen and paper journal today.  You know how ridiculous that can be...I'm hungry, I need to make some food and then eat it, now I need water because my chai is all watered down from the melted ice and it tastes like REALLY skim milk.  Pee.  Now I need to pee, and while I pee, I'll make a To Do list for tomorrow.  Does that count as journaling?  But I finally settled in for about twenty minutes and wrote a very honest entry about my emotional state, my family, and how my family affects said emotional state.  It was helpful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a fairly big, at-first-glance-from-the-outside normal family.  Unfortunately, drug addiction has been in-and-out for many years, and just recently, it really seemed like we needed to Stop It.  We had a half-ass intervention, but it was the first ever and it felt Big Ass at the time.  Big Ass and heart breaking and rage inducing.  I have felt too much anger in the past month, especially for someone who enjoys the idea of Peace and Hope.&lt;br /&gt;I was Hoping to kick some a** after the family session, but instead we all ate some meat-filled dinner together, because good families eat meat together.&lt;br /&gt;Believe me, I am no longer struggling with the reality of an imperfect family (that is so 90's).  It doesn't exist.  Who would want it to, really?  I think we all just want to be happy and know our loved ones are happy as well.  We all just want ANY relationship to feel Happy.  I am actually very happy, but that's because I'm used to having this inner struggle.  Having a family meeting was very uncomfortable, but it was finally something real and proactive, and about f*cking time,  I might add.&lt;br /&gt;Also, I did comment on the amount of anger I've been feeling, but I don't wish that anger away, just as long as I channel it productively.  That anger kept me from crying during the family thing, which was good because I needed to be able to talk.  It has helped me relate to other people's struggles and recognize the need to find an outlet (and I'm glad that people trust me in that way).  It has also created a sometimes-wicked sense of humor.  Laughing feels so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, ok,  that's all I want to say about that for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wish for people today is to enjoy a deeper belly breath and SMILE upon the exhale.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/144268540191183588-421727730671339380?l=attemptforthegood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/feeds/421727730671339380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=144268540191183588&amp;postID=421727730671339380' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/421727730671339380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/144268540191183588/posts/default/421727730671339380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://attemptforthegood.blogspot.com/2007/06/to-introduce-or-not.html' title='To Introduce or Not'/><author><name>Anonymously</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
