<?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-6332214080458362637</id><updated>2011-07-07T19:21:52.669-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Midnight Frivolityy</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>D♥</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15481965532904152102</uri><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>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6332214080458362637.post-4146739710473416896</id><published>2010-08-15T12:06:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T12:11:54.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fucking hate selfish bitches who just try to cover their own ass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6332214080458362637-4146739710473416896?l=midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/4146739710473416896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/4146739710473416896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com/2010/08/fucking-hate-selfish-bitches-who-just.html' title=''/><author><name>D♥</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15481965532904152102</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6332214080458362637.post-798737417266763933</id><published>2010-07-27T23:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T00:20:17.206-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You are the only exception</title><content type='html'>I had a conversation tonight that helped me learn more about myself. The people I am like. The harsh reality of the implications of my actions. All in all, I have no time to lose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to start by heading to sleep now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6332214080458362637-798737417266763933?l=midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/798737417266763933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/798737417266763933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com/2010/07/you-are-only-exception.html' title='You are the only exception'/><author><name>D♥</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15481965532904152102</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6332214080458362637.post-7740124224152192990</id><published>2010-07-21T00:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T00:33:41.422-05:00</updated><title type='text'>story of boy meets girl.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object style="background-image: url(&amp;quot;http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/PsD0NpFSADM/hqdefault.jpg&amp;quot;);" height="255" width="440"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PsD0NpFSADM&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PsD0NpFSADM&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="295" width="480"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well this is, and Rhoda, no disrespect, but um, this is total shit. Go  for it? You can do it? That's not inspirational that's suicidal! If Pickles goes for it right there that's a dead cat. Lies, were liars  think about it, why do people buy these things? It's not because they  wanna say how they feel, people buy cards cause they can't say how they  feel or they're afraid to. We provide the service that lets them off  the hook. You know what? I say to hell with it. Let's level with America  at least let them speak for themselves right I mean look, look. What is  this, what does this say? "Congratulations on your new baby." How bout  "congratulations on your new baby, guess that's it for hanging out, nice  knowing ya." How bout this one? With all the pretty hearts on the  front, I think I know where this ones going. Yup - "Happy Valentines Day  sweetheart, I love you." Isn't that sweet? Ain't love grand? This is  exactly what I'm talking about. What does that even mean, love? Do you  know? Do you? Anybody? If somebody gave me this card Mr. Vance, I'd eat  it. It's these cards, and the movies and the pop songs, they're to blame  for all the lies and the heartache, everything. We're responsible. I'M  responsible. I think we do a bad thing here. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;People should be able to  say how they feel, how they really feel, not ya know, some words that  some stranger put in their mouth.&lt;/span&gt; Words like love, that don't mean  anything. Sorry, I'm sorry, I um, I quit. There's enough bullshit in the  world without my help.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;I re-watched 500 Days of Summer tonight. I'd forgotten how much I loved this movie. The themes of the fact that love is however you define it and that life is full of coincidences. Like how I happened to see a certain someone in the window today, or like how my friend and I happened to run into Andy's samples that were in huge cups bigger than the size of my fist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's a movie that disses relationships and supposedly makes taken people feel uneasy, but I didn't feel any difference between watching it as single person and now with the boyfriend. Just the same warm, lingering feeling as the credits began to roll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling that there is no use in fearing our future, that there is such a thing as love, and such a thing as fate, and coincidences, and just the whims, twists, and turns of life. And to just go with the flow and see what life brings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6332214080458362637-7740124224152192990?l=midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/7740124224152192990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/7740124224152192990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-re-watched-500-days-of-summer-tonight.html' title='story of boy meets girl.'/><author><name>D♥</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15481965532904152102</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6332214080458362637.post-2430612913115173391</id><published>2010-07-19T23:34:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-20T00:21:49.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tooo much</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-IA60-Bh7W0/TEUyT4YTXYI/AAAAAAAABJk/XaO33Akwxw0/s1600/imagirl.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 175px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-IA60-Bh7W0/TEUyT4YTXYI/AAAAAAAABJk/XaO33Akwxw0/s200/imagirl.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495854237408779650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of things have been pissing me off lately in the relationship, despite that a lot of things have been going well. For one, he has been giving me a lot of sass lately. And I don't mean friendly, teasing, joking/sarcastic sass, I mean like real attitude, something said meant to annoy me and hurt me for some kind of offense I committed. Like today near the end of our meal at Panera, my sister called and he got really mad about it. Well, honestly he was already done eating - had put up his bowl and whatnot - and I was still working on remnants of my salad. And on top of that, he had pulled out HIS cell to play that dumb bubble breaker game like he would usually do in any restaurant before or after a meal while waiting. Finally, I asked my sister if she could call me back but she was going to have to leave right away to see &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Inception &lt;/span&gt;anyway. All in all, it was basically a cheap swipe back at me for telling him he should eat less meat. I'm just trying to tell him what I think would be best for him. He does eat too much meat, and he is gaining too much weight, and he is already showing unhealthy blood tests as a result of it. I'm trying to help out here!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on top of that, he was talking to our mutual friend online tonight, and while we were shifting positions on the bed he got really protective of his computer screen. As I curiously questioned why, he said that it was a "sensitive-subject" and closed his lips, refusing to any any more questions. Which completely pissed me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention, during our evening walk there were a ton of I'm-going-to-ignore-half-the-things-you-say-or-belittle-your-idle=commentary. I hate feeling like I'm talking to one of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;those&lt;/span&gt;. Maybe I will just keep my mouth shut more often and stop telling him things. How in the world does he love hearing my voice if that's the reaction I always get?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been exceptionally pms-y lately, nor have I been trying to start a fight in any way. I think my behavior has been reasonable of the last few weeks. But sometimes I just feel so angry about how I am treated, but then I can't help but wonder whether I should feel this way or not, because of all the sweet things he does for me when we aren't exchanging these swipes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could go back to my summer place tonight. I wish I could have the strength to tear myself away, and give it some away/neutralizing time. A little bit of distancing is quite healthy for a relationship, tried-and-true. But good jesus I cannot stand that shitty place, with the loud trash trucks and mosquitoes and odor of junk floating up through the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least tomorrow I will have a decent escape, having work in the morning and then just needing to study all day until Sarah gets home whereby we shall embark for dinner and more study time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish that a lot of times I could have the strength to completely do whatever I want, and get as much enjoyment out of being alone as I would being with him. Or get as much enjoyment out of being with another friend as I would being with him. All these things would bring me so much more freedom and independence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6332214080458362637-2430612913115173391?l=midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/2430612913115173391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/2430612913115173391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com/2010/07/tooo-much.html' title='tooo much'/><author><name>D♥</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15481965532904152102</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-IA60-Bh7W0/TEUyT4YTXYI/AAAAAAAABJk/XaO33Akwxw0/s72-c/imagirl.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6332214080458362637.post-5026323776649923434</id><published>2010-07-14T02:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-14T02:25:51.470-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Easing into a frenzy</title><content type='html'>I don't know what I've been doing with my time day by day, but somehow at the end of the night I don't think I've been doing enough. And by "enough" I mean pure LSAT time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, this does lessen the sting of having an internship I don't purely enjoy, the lack of work hours I was scheduled for this week, and the guilt of not getting to enjoy this beautiful week of sunny and not-so-humid Chicago weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully tomorrow I will have the discipline to walk to the library and truly buckle down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6332214080458362637-5026323776649923434?l=midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/5026323776649923434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/5026323776649923434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com/2010/07/easing-into-frenzy.html' title='Easing into a frenzy'/><author><name>D♥</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15481965532904152102</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6332214080458362637.post-4432132181311389726</id><published>2010-07-01T11:56:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T12:04:34.887-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Inklings of distaste</title><content type='html'>So far this summer, I've been somewhat busy working for a political campaign. It's my first official internship, but I can honestly tell you that I know now what I don't want to do when I grow up. And that is be a politician, or be involved in politics of any sort. I'm glad I didn't study political science, and even though law has a lot of overlap, I'm going to draw a very clear line and stay away from this in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's messy, unorganized at times, and amazingly tireless of an effort. There's so much struggle and energy that I admire everyone in the campaign office, yet at the same time there is an furious attitude of the-ends-justify-the-means work ethic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What disturbs me the most is that there is no ethic in politics. There is &lt;u&gt;no&lt;/u&gt; &lt;u&gt;class&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I wish I had something to do this summer more directly related to my future goals, one has to start somewhere. At least I know now what to avoid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6332214080458362637-4432132181311389726?l=midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/4432132181311389726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6332214080458362637/posts/default/4432132181311389726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://midnightfrivolity.blogspot.com/2010/07/inklings-of-distaste.html' title='Inklings of distaste'/><author><name>D♥</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15481965532904152102</uri><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></entry></feed>
