<?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-6918811697131511045</id><updated>2011-07-08T07:24:15.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Well, that was awkward..."</title><subtitle type='html'>I have realized recently that my life is composed of one awkward instance after another. In an effort to embrace these moments, I have decided to write about them.  Thus, the blog...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beths-journal.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6918811697131511045/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beths-journal.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bethany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16278106613549982996</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>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918811697131511045.post-8896924316786114898</id><published>2011-01-14T08:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T08:49:06.205-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Romance Shmomance</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Sometimes (all the time), I wish I could take the feelings I have for someone and put them on somebody else who will reciprocate them.  If only life could be that easy.  All this romantic junk we read about "unrequited love" is a bunch of poop.  Unrequited love BLOWS.  There is absolutely nothing romantic about liking someone who has no feelings for you whatsoever.  In books and movies, it is obvious from the very beginning that the characters are going to fall in love (even if they totally hate each other)...it's only a matter of when.  Usually they're standing in the rain, or in a crowded stadium and suddenly they realize that they're in love...and everyone around them cheers as they kiss while some dramatic pop song (if there is such a thing) drones in the background.  Then the credits roll as you sit there and think..."well my life sucks..."  In reality, we don't live with that kind of certainty.  Our lives are not trapped within the stale pages of a romance novel (thank God).  The freedom we have to choose who we want to be with is awesome...until that person doesn't choose YOU.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I'm not bitter...just realistic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6918811697131511045-8896924316786114898?l=beths-journal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beths-journal.blogspot.com/feeds/8896924316786114898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6918811697131511045&amp;postID=8896924316786114898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6918811697131511045/posts/default/8896924316786114898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6918811697131511045/posts/default/8896924316786114898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beths-journal.blogspot.com/2011/01/sometimes-all-time-i-wish-i-could-take.html' title='Romance Shmomance'/><author><name>Bethany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16278106613549982996</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918811697131511045.post-7094213201406785502</id><published>2010-09-08T22:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T22:07:08.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>B&amp;N Boy</title><content type='html'>Awkward moment today.  It doesn't sound very awkward but it was. Krystle and I spent a little "study" time in Barnes &amp;amp; Noble this afternoon.  More like, she studied and I read magazines, but that is besides the point. During our so-called "study sessions" we tend to talk A LOT about random things going on in our lives. For a couple hours at least, this guy sat at the table right beside us (mind you that there were many other vacant tables), reading his sports magazines,  and stared at me...the whole time.  I think he forgot that most people have something called "peripheral vision". Needless to say, it was awkward. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll do better next time, I promise! I'm tired, and I'm going to bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6918811697131511045-7094213201406785502?l=beths-journal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beths-journal.blogspot.com/feeds/7094213201406785502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6918811697131511045&amp;postID=7094213201406785502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6918811697131511045/posts/default/7094213201406785502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6918811697131511045/posts/default/7094213201406785502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beths-journal.blogspot.com/2010/09/b-boy.html' title='B&amp;N Boy'/><author><name>Bethany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16278106613549982996</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918811697131511045.post-141680775102488049</id><published>2010-09-05T14:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T22:08:15.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flash Dance</title><content type='html'>To get the ball rolling, I shall begin with a memory from many moons ago (it was day time actually, so I guess "suns" would be more correct...correcter...eh). Anyway, I believe I was a senior in high school at the time.  A bunch of my friends were over swimming in our pool (it was the only way I could get friends.  Just kidding...but really).  As I was about to jump off the diving board, my brother's little friend (let's call him Bill) jumped on my back.  If that wasn't awkward enough, my little brother decided that it was a perfect opportunity to pants me (or rather "bathing suit bottom" me), with about 6 of my guy friends standing right behind me. It was a "bum"mer. Hah, Get it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6918811697131511045-141680775102488049?l=beths-journal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beths-journal.blogspot.com/feeds/141680775102488049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6918811697131511045&amp;postID=141680775102488049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6918811697131511045/posts/default/141680775102488049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6918811697131511045/posts/default/141680775102488049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beths-journal.blogspot.com/2010/09/awkwardmortifying-moment-1.html' title='Flash Dance'/><author><name>Bethany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16278106613549982996</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
