<?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-3763975</id><updated>2011-09-12T05:16:00.389-07:00</updated><category term='only way.'/><category term='Insomnia while Dealing.'/><category term='how can i tell you that i love you? that i&apos;m always thinking of you?'/><title type='text'>come on home to california</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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>349</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3763975.post-5915407602882240057</id><published>2010-12-15T16:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-15T16:02:31.407-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Allow me to clarify my post on “fakeness” from last night.So I’m sure people think that I’ve exhausted the fact that I tried to kill myself last year. I’m sure that people think I did it for attention. I’m sure that people think I did it because my boyfriend broke up with me.The thing is, I don’t have to sit all—every single one individual—of you to explain to you why I did the things I did. You </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5915407602882240057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5915407602882240057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_12_12_archive.html#5915407602882240057' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-4831896557333948624</id><published>2010-09-17T01:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T01:28:20.927-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>He sleeps so perfect.If only everything could be as simple as the way he sleeps. Anxiety is getting the best of me again. Judgment is flowing in left and right; I can feel heavy eyes staring at me. And I start overanalyzing glances or snickers or gestures.I've never felt as safe as I do when I'm with him. And it pains me to ever think about being apart from him. I wish the people I love would be </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/4831896557333948624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/4831896557333948624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_09_12_archive.html#4831896557333948624' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-3876149840229431632</id><published>2010-08-04T01:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T01:52:12.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Why am I so apprehensive to call the doctor and set up appointments now? It's been eight months, and I'm doing well...more than well I'd say. But I'm at a place where a lot of anger, sadness, anxiety, and apprehension are harbored. I've done my best to hide it on the outside, but sometimes I feel like tiny parts of me inside are falling apart.I'm deathly afraid to go back to school......mostly </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3876149840229431632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3876149840229431632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_08_01_archive.html#3876149840229431632' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-2861849166046249442</id><published>2010-07-17T04:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-17T04:31:18.337-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I can't sleep for the life of me.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2861849166046249442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2861849166046249442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_07_11_archive.html#2861849166046249442' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-6549360088017450953</id><published>2010-07-12T02:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T02:58:47.412-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Bad HabitsThey're coming back.I think sometimes, that there are certain things that I want for myself...as does anyone in this God-known universe. BUT...I feel like...there are only certain things I should be ale to do...be able to have. ...like a stable relationship. Part of me wants to forget again...I don't want to care about anyone. I want to do what I want. I don't want to be frustrated. I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/6549360088017450953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/6549360088017450953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_07_11_archive.html#6549360088017450953' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-8109061192411570943</id><published>2010-07-06T02:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T02:35:50.084-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Happy.Because slowly but surely it's starting to hurt less.As my love for him augments.And the arguments...are all nonsense.With a hint of laughs and happiness.True love I've gone on my search to find.Are truly apparent when I look in his eyes.And hurt I've come to bear in mind,is meant to be had and awaken the blind.Love is fighting is what I have come to learn.And my love is something that this</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/8109061192411570943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/8109061192411570943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_07_04_archive.html#8109061192411570943' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-3135460400187220266</id><published>2010-07-04T02:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T02:34:42.059-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I could have been amazing.But you wouldn't let me.Closed your eyes to me.Turned your head from me.Ignorant of me.And while this pattern continues to remain amongst people I have now come to despise.I beckon you and them to open your eyes.My life was always truth, never lies.And I never hid a thing, not my blood or my scars.I displayed them openly for you to admire from afar.I hid not a thing, I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3135460400187220266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3135460400187220266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_07_04_archive.html#3135460400187220266' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-8823492582710002017</id><published>2010-06-29T23:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T00:01:53.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>As deep as the ocean.I love summer and I love home. I love family. I love work. I love responsibility. I love that slowly...but steadily I may be falling in love. I love REAL friends--roommates, coworkers. People who think of me when I'm gone.And that's the real shit I think about when I was looking over that cliff at Pacifica today. Real shit.Real people. Real love. Really growing up. Forgiving </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/8823492582710002017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/8823492582710002017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_06_27_archive.html#8823492582710002017' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-3003008404508351686</id><published>2010-06-25T13:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T13:39:08.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There's no escaping.So stop running. There's no eradicating your past. There's no eternal sunshining your life.There's just living.There's just bearing in mind that your mistakes were meant to be made. And the more you hold onto your regrets, the faster you will deteriorate. There's no shame in asking for help. Go back to being a pacifist. Because what is there to fight? What is there to defend? </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3003008404508351686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3003008404508351686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_06_20_archive.html#3003008404508351686' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-293153500516132478</id><published>2010-06-24T23:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T23:11:41.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Year 4.It's time.It's time to get the fuck out of this place. To graduate. To peace out. To forget the torture I put myself under while I was here.I have so many good memories, but so many bad ones as well. I came out of college with less friends than I started with, and with practically no trust left in my trust fund. I'm cynical. I'm vicious. I'm trying......not to be.I used to be such a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/293153500516132478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/293153500516132478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_06_20_archive.html#293153500516132478' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-1699519975800547097</id><published>2010-06-24T01:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T01:50:47.172-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Trust?Trust is something people like to give away like free candy, then cry when it comes back at them chewed up and mangled. Trust.Trust used to be easily given by people like me. Evals. Still evaluating. There's a lot of irritation. A lot of hurt. A lot of pain. A lot of crazy shit in my head that I wish I could just FORGET ALREADY. I'm a lot more violent than I used to be. I think less of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/1699519975800547097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/1699519975800547097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_06_20_archive.html#1699519975800547097' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-2854853798561896108</id><published>2010-06-20T23:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T23:32:54.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>...to get what i want.So.Evals.You ever notice how much throughout your entire life someone evaluates you? Performance. Test. Endurance. Emotions. Willpower. Strength.All that bullshit isn't even for yourself. It's for someone else to put on a piece of paper. And where does that piece of paper even go? Who reads it? And who cares?For once in my life, I'm evaluating myself. Thinking about who I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2854853798561896108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2854853798561896108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_06_20_archive.html#2854853798561896108' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-5271741331909921521</id><published>2010-06-20T01:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T02:04:10.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sometimes I burn holes in your pictures with my eyes....because I want to etch that image into my mind.To tell myself I'm not mad.But I'm mad.What's worse than losing one friend...is losing more than that one friend...is having to SHARE friends with that friend...is having to see that friend with your friends...I'm evaluating the person I've become.How careful is TOO careful? I think I need to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5271741331909921521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5271741331909921521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_06_20_archive.html#5271741331909921521' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-4658108359631996888</id><published>2010-06-18T16:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T16:09:43.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>stop hurting. stop hurting. stop hurting. STOP HURTING. DAMNIT.Man. My life is so FUCKING GOOD.SO WHY?WHY can't I get over the hurt? Why can't I get over the motherfucking anger? Why can't I just let the fuck go?I have Frankie. Yes, I'll say his name. Because I have never in my life felt more love and affection from anyone. And he is downright amazing.I have the best friends in the entire world. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/4658108359631996888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/4658108359631996888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_06_13_archive.html#4658108359631996888' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-7399894329344107299</id><published>2010-06-12T02:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T02:16:58.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>And then I'll never say it again.Drop DROP DROP. Drop you like a bad habit. Drop you like a rotten fruit. Drop you like a tear. Drop DROP DROP.I think people need to go through things in order to realize how hard is it to loosen your grasp on something that has hurt you in so many ways.Retribution.Just a nice way of saying "revenge" really. Sometimes people yell at you and don't say sorry. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/7399894329344107299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/7399894329344107299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_06_06_archive.html#7399894329344107299' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-7423694144522476449</id><published>2010-06-08T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T16:39:10.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"Swaying with wide steps, like lost beasts in the wilderness, we walked around, fucked up on life..."I can't for the life of me deduce what exactly I want to write about right now. Besides sitting in a coffee shop looking like a pretentious twat acting smarter than I probably am, I've been cursed with the constant need to always brood over whatever the fuck happened to me in the past whatever, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/7423694144522476449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/7423694144522476449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_06_06_archive.html#7423694144522476449' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-3541084942266891987</id><published>2010-06-07T01:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T01:56:22.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"What particularly appalls Holden [Caulfield] is the eagerness of his peers to adopt that corrupt grownup behaviour."It is these coming of age stories through which I live vicariously. Drama has followed me everywhere I've gone, and for years I've tried to run away from it, and like a shadow, or a gray thundering cloud, it follows me even more fervently than before. I guess, it's time to say that</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3541084942266891987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3541084942266891987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_06_06_archive.html#3541084942266891987' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-7451863736760603610</id><published>2010-06-05T00:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T00:47:49.095-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Pain?Pain is temporary.Like the broken heart I once had to nurse.No Tylenol or panaceaNo Penicillin or cure-all or magic antidote to take to cure the shooting pain when you cry at night.It's a different kind...like you feel your broken heart in your throat and your tears in your stomachAnd suddenly you regret having that conversation with jimmy, Jack, and Johnnie, and throwing yourself at </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/7451863736760603610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/7451863736760603610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_05_30_archive.html#7451863736760603610' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-1557059482540183582</id><published>2010-05-29T00:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-29T00:32:13.204-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>How long is long enough? You know when someone tells you that the second you find the person you want to be with for the rest of your life, you'll know? That's really a funny sentence for me to be saying because for the past four, five, six, seven months or so, I didn't even know how to be in a relationship anymore. Everything I thought I knew, I had to re-learn somehow. I had to somehow re-find </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/1557059482540183582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/1557059482540183582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_05_23_archive.html#1557059482540183582' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-5005661792510952735</id><published>2010-05-27T13:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T14:20:33.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Rant about the rest of my life? What???I don't know why I always feel the need to WRITE DOWN what I want to do for the rest of my life. Part of me feels like, okay, maybe I just feel the need to solidify what's going to happen for the rest of my life. But honestly, when does what you plan ever STAY the way you planned it? I think watching my Manang walk made me feel like evaluating my life right </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5005661792510952735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5005661792510952735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_05_23_archive.html#5005661792510952735' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-8379426868505967443</id><published>2010-05-19T17:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T18:22:05.611-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm pretty sure I could quote almost every line from Brown Sugar.I've never been so in love with hip-hop. I've never been so in love with words. Poetry. With the idea of being in love. Hip-HOPE is what they should call it. See, I never thought I'd see myself as a serial dater. Or someone who couldn't take being single. I thought I could handle a lot of things, and that obviously blew up in my</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/8379426868505967443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/8379426868505967443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_05_16_archive.html#8379426868505967443' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-9107279204758714477</id><published>2010-05-02T01:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-02T01:40:50.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>How quickly would you drop...?Lately, I've been finding myself on the brink of...insanity. Not insanity in a sense that I'm INSANE, but insanity in a sense that...I could see my life panning out to be a corny love movie. I have never felt happier. I feel like there's no place to go from here except up. While things happen to sometimes bring me down, I feel like sadness and anger are all just a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/9107279204758714477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/9107279204758714477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_05_02_archive.html#9107279204758714477' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-8943006905724639965</id><published>2010-04-30T02:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T02:24:23.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Late Night Thinking...I'm not sure what to write tonight. Am I ever? I just have a strong propensity to write. A lot of my feelings, I think have to do with...not necessarily regrets, but feelings that imitate regret. I truly feel like things happen for a reason. I really really do. God led me to him #1. He led me to _____. God led him # 2 to me so that me and him #1 wouldn't work out for a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/8943006905724639965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/8943006905724639965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_04_25_archive.html#8943006905724639965' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-405533114888777942</id><published>2010-04-20T02:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T02:42:37.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>It's 2:15 AMI just feel like writing. Though I'm really not quite sure what to write about. I guess I'll start with the obvious. I miss my family. I miss my cousins a lot. These past few years, we've gotten nothing but closer, and I love it. I don't think anyone can really truly be as close as we are. And I love that we just add people to our family like it's nothing (DCruz and Ronald). Through </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/405533114888777942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/405533114888777942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_04_18_archive.html#405533114888777942' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-5465095882538110212</id><published>2010-04-07T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T23:57:46.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Mmkay.I don't usually do this, but I'll just go out on a limb and blurt this shit out because I can't hold it in anymore.But. Hm. Okay where do I start?It still hurts.I'm not sure how long it will hurt, but it hurts. And it's angering. And no I can't just drop it because I was done wrong. And I can't do anything about it. I can't hit you or key your car or pull your hair and punch you in the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5465095882538110212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5465095882538110212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_04_04_archive.html#5465095882538110212' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-3017918554776671428</id><published>2010-04-04T21:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T21:40:41.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Man. Eff the flu.So. My first week back at Davis was incredibly fun. Can't say I wanted it to be any different. I've learned that you can't be stressin' over stuff. If you stress, you're probably just slowing yourself down more by stressin'. Sometimes I do question this transformation that I've made since being sick and recuperating and all that...and I wonder what kind of person I am and how the</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3017918554776671428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3017918554776671428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_04_04_archive.html#3017918554776671428' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-2247686079572363610</id><published>2010-03-25T06:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T06:30:40.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm just gonna talk, and you're gonna listen.You have the choice to read...to not read...whatever.I'm delirious. It's 6:06 AM. I just went to bed less than four hours ago. I woke up with a burning feeling in my chest, and just thinking about how it alluded to how I was five months ago...waking up dry heaving and with the most insane burning feeling at the bottom of my esophagus coupled with the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2247686079572363610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2247686079572363610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_03_21_archive.html#2247686079572363610' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-5215178638202424843</id><published>2010-01-31T21:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T21:38:49.413-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Do you ever feel like you just want to tell someone something? Anything? Whatever is on your mind? I feel like that a lot. I'll often start blog posts with my something random on my mind that I wish I could just text someone about or something, but I end up deleting it or never publishing it because I convince myself that it's probably pointless.I guess that's the downside of being single. It's </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5215178638202424843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5215178638202424843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_01_31_archive.html#5215178638202424843' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-6711812364754677588</id><published>2010-01-21T00:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T01:15:06.587-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The truth is...I am content with where I am, but it doesn't mean I don't think about how things could be on an alternate plane. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells...afraid that you'll think less of me, but regretful if I do nothing.And so far I've been feeling regret...because truth be told, it's not hard for me to get attention. I get it often, and it's nothing I brag about or care about </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/6711812364754677588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/6711812364754677588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_01_17_archive.html#6711812364754677588' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-3082699547465390451</id><published>2010-01-13T13:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T13:55:31.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm eccentric.I'm weird.I like art.I like pictures.I have a list of things I definitely plan on doing before I die.I like conversations.I like spontaneity.I like adventures.I like the ocean.I like the Sharks, the Warriors, the Niners, and the UFC.I am funny. I promise.I am a narcissist, but who the hell ISN'T?I like clothes.I love music.I am a spoken word artist.I try to shop fair trade...but </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3082699547465390451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3082699547465390451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_01_10_archive.html#3082699547465390451' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-1854914222254669639</id><published>2010-01-11T20:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T21:05:06.551-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Not gonna lie...I'm starting to get a little lonely. I think I'm just getting tired of constantly going out. I need to get grounded again. Thank God I got hired! Just in time...I miss being independent and making my own money. I miss doing my own shit for ME and having responsibility. I had fun in Tahoe this weekend, though. But I came back and suddenly I'm back to thinking a lot about certain </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/1854914222254669639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/1854914222254669639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_01_10_archive.html#1854914222254669639' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-3071529053623765708</id><published>2010-01-06T04:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T04:07:20.029-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“Every girl thinks she can change a player but every player is on a mission to find that one girl who makes him lose his desire to play.”—Marco Aguirre (via katherinegrace)Straight up, I don’t think I could ever change a player. I don’t think I’m willing to put in the time and energy to change a player. After this last time, I’m realizing a lot of the shit I did wrong as a girlfriend and I’m not </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3071529053623765708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3071529053623765708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2010_01_03_archive.html#3071529053623765708' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-7904400147627983102</id><published>2010-01-02T22:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T22:28:36.679-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sometimes the things you love the most are the most painful to live with.I miss journaling. I miss writing my thoughts down on paper because it forces me to slow down and truly think about what I'm thinking about.Lately, the person I have never wanted to become has engulfed my very being--turning me into a cynical and bitter young woman; forgetting that every breath I take may be my last.I find </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/7904400147627983102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/7904400147627983102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_12_27_archive.html#7904400147627983102' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-3134195893308677703</id><published>2009-12-29T00:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T01:10:07.928-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Thanks.Thanks for letting me watch you abuse someone I love.Thanks for making fun of me when I already felt like I didn't have a stronghold.Thanks for calling me a slut.Thanks for making me victimize myself.Thanks for making me feel like less than myself.Thanks for making me wonder what it was that I did wrong.Thanks for ignoring me in my times of greatest need.Thanks for using my body for your </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3134195893308677703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3134195893308677703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_12_27_archive.html#3134195893308677703' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-5071170176755232459</id><published>2009-12-28T00:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T00:12:01.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A - Available: YEP. Not lookin' though. B - Best Friend: KrystalC - Crush: _ _ _ _ _ D - Dad’s Name: EdweirdoE - Easiest Person To Talk To: Randeezy, Sean, Roomies and AshleyF - Favorite Band: Taking Back SundayG - Gummy Bears Or Worms: Chocolate covered bears or sour gummy wormsH - Hometown: San Jose, CAI - Instrument: PianoJ - Job: Full-time student, SUPPOSED to be manager at Info Center =(K - </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5071170176755232459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5071170176755232459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_12_27_archive.html#5071170176755232459' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-7699004403192497551</id><published>2009-12-27T21:28:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T21:45:45.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I used to think I knew who I was, now I'm not so sure.I'm getting used to hiding my feelings. I always thought that the people who shared their feelings were the strongest kind of people, but now I don't think that's true. I used to be really outspoken with my feelings, but I can't help but feel like I'm burden. Guys always tell you they'll be there to listen. They tell you they'll be there for </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/7699004403192497551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/7699004403192497551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_12_27_archive.html#7699004403192497551' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-693723162064518155</id><published>2009-12-27T02:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T02:17:01.738-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>And sometimes I wonder if you wonder what I wonder.Sometimes I don't know why my tongue gets tied, or why my heart races.If I could, I would just jump the wall I put up and let me be myself, but I can't.I feel like I'm in a predicament.I feel like I can't be myself around you, but you're the only person I'd want to be myself around.I hate being mushy.I hate not being tough.I hate being weak.I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/693723162064518155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/693723162064518155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_12_27_archive.html#693723162064518155' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-1384624376246935129</id><published>2009-12-24T17:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T17:51:37.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dude,I thought Christmas 2007 was bad. Christmas 2009 is worse. After everything that's been going on in my life, I finally felt like I was getting a stronghold again. And for the most part, I haven't given up hope on that. However, things have happened to bring me back down...or try to. It's weird because before my "incident", I would have probably reacted harshly...I mean, I still did, but I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/1384624376246935129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/1384624376246935129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_12_20_archive.html#1384624376246935129' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-3186965550269255734</id><published>2009-12-23T12:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T12:26:55.408-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Just a thought...I don't think people can truly realize what it feels like to TRULY let go of something you thought you cared about. Thinking back on memories, you feel like you were in a dream. It's almost as if I have to tell myself, "I was dreaming, now I'm awake." But I wasn't dreaming. I was conscious. My feelings were real. I have no regrets. I don't think this is hard anymore, but I get </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3186965550269255734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/3186965550269255734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_12_20_archive.html#3186965550269255734' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-227119496204131873</id><published>2009-12-22T15:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T15:28:34.197-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Mistakes.Man, what did I just do? I guess...it's better to know the truth then. To be honest, I don't even think I'm angry anymore...at either of them. I don't feel a pang of pain. I'm not sure what I feel. I felt like my eyes burned out of their sockets when I saw what I saw...read what I read. I mean, I feel good about where I am. I feel pretty amazing actually. I think I've for the most part </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/227119496204131873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/227119496204131873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_12_20_archive.html#227119496204131873' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-4867137182814879964</id><published>2009-12-22T00:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T00:59:56.164-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I hate to say this like it's his fault, but I have been in utter irritation since my dad has been home from the Philippines. He's been in a bad mood, consequently putting me in a terrible mood as well. A lot of people don't know the dynamics of my family because I don't share a lot, but it's not often the best environment to be in. Don't get me wrong, I love my family a lot and would throw myself</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/4867137182814879964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/4867137182814879964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_12_20_archive.html#4867137182814879964' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-2213815830742376687</id><published>2009-11-02T15:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T15:53:04.851-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Life's not what it used to be.I'm pretty sad...pretty hurt...feeling pretty terrible.This past week was hell. I don't think I'd wish that fate on even my worst enemy. Why it had to happen, who knows. I'm not feeling strong...to be real and honest. Everyone says I should and all that, and I'm pretty much at this point just doing whatever anyone tells me to do. Tons of doctors, counselors, new </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2213815830742376687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2213815830742376687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#2213815830742376687' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-2472075801022459691</id><published>2009-10-15T22:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T22:47:46.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CERTAIN PEOPLE...have now reminded me why I stopped going on Tumblr.Begin vent:Right now, I'm studying for my midterm feeling mixed emotions. For those of you close to me, you know this quarter has been nothing BUT hell for me. Yet I continue to wake up everyday, and all of a sudden, the future doesn't even matter. You know why? Because I can't think about the future when the trudge through just </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2472075801022459691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2472075801022459691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_10_11_archive.html#2472075801022459691' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-4176959938902053379</id><published>2009-09-19T23:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T23:30:13.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“The irony of love is loving the right person at the wrong time, having the wrong person when the time is right, and finding out that you love someone right after that person has walked out of your life. Sometimes you think you’re already over a person, but when you see them smile at you, you suddenly realize that you’re just pretending to be over them, just to ease the pain of knowing that they </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/4176959938902053379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/4176959938902053379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_09_13_archive.html#4176959938902053379' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-2035434851732839837</id><published>2009-09-18T16:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T16:41:46.337-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"I want to hear you scream you like me better on my knees"I think I'm bipolar. I really really do. The extreme wave of emotions inside me makes my insides irk with pain, joy, acceptance, placidity, hurt, and anger all at once. It affects me physically. Not being able to sleep is making me hate my brain. I had no idea when I heard about this thing called "heartbreak" that there were so many stages</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2035434851732839837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/2035434851732839837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_09_13_archive.html#2035434851732839837' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-6829432755896977201</id><published>2009-09-18T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T12:31:42.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I can't stop crying.Going to sleep at 6 AM truly makes me feel insane.Love makes people think crazy things, and want to do to crazy things, but the thing is, I don't think I would be this crazy if he just talked to me maybe. Maybe.It's so hard to let my anger flow through me...I don't want him to hate me.I wish there was some way to tell him...to make him realize that he hurt me just as much as I</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/6829432755896977201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/6829432755896977201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_09_13_archive.html#6829432755896977201' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-124588479555487249</id><published>2009-09-18T03:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T04:23:23.966-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Insomnia while Dealing.'/><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I have insomnia.I have  a headache.I have a broken heart.It's 3:58 AM. I've spent the last five hours crying. Again. I cut myself. Again.Is it scary to say that I feel freer on this blog because no one reads it?Who will click this link? Seriously...Who?I just read my post from August 29, 2008...before I did anything wrong. I did nothing wrong. Here I am...a year and 19 days later...crying my eyes</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/124588479555487249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/124588479555487249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2009_09_13_archive.html#124588479555487249' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-957751545600941490</id><published>2008-08-29T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T22:15:43.087-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='only way.'/><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>so i think that this is probably the only way to fully express how i'm feeling right now.what the fuck.seriously?i did nothing. absolutely nothing.i don't want to defend myself because everything LOOKS wrong, but i don't understand why i have to feel so much guilt when truly nothing happened. even if i wasn't attracted to #2, i think i would still enjoy the talks that we had SIMPLY because i've </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/957751545600941490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/957751545600941490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2008_08_24_archive.html#957751545600941490' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-5839022516155631454</id><published>2007-10-20T01:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-20T01:12:25.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>my self esteem has gotten the best of me againhow could i go from where i've been to where i am?is it a classic case scenario of hitting rock bottom?i feel like i'm not trying.i feel like a dumbass.i feel like a super duper dumbass.i feel like i haven't shown who i am.and i feel like the good person in me is being overshadowed by confusion and temptation.who am i?and who was he when i met him?and</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5839022516155631454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/5839022516155631454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2007_10_14_archive.html#5839022516155631454' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-4673026664430769666</id><published>2007-10-15T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T20:49:00.208-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='how can i tell you that i love you? that i&apos;m always thinking of you?'/><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>i hate drama.but it follows me everywhere.i haven't been on my blog in a long time, but here i am. back, and a little bit weak. i think i just want someone to pay attention.do you have any idea how hard it is for me to accept that i'm not a normal person? i'm more normal than other people, but my self esteem gets the best of me, and i disregard all the people who see the good in me and see the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/4673026664430769666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/4673026664430769666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2007_10_14_archive.html#4673026664430769666' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-116927380695836547</id><published>2007-01-19T21:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T22:16:46.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>you are such a diva todayi think i'm going to be on my period sometime soon. it's undeniable. it's inevitable.so, this weekend has hence been filled with white rappers, janet's senior service project, a wave of bad memories (and more bad news), violent thoughts, the mall, my cousins, and a search for Rampage "elsa" boots, as well as a pink shirt with a black tie.i'm aware that no one reads this </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/116927380695836547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/116927380695836547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2007_01_14_archive.html#116927380695836547' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-114842841675893188</id><published>2006-05-23T16:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T16:53:36.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>drown together and immortalize you and me&gt;&gt;and so the summer is fast approaching, and i feel like a complete failure. i feel like a disappointment. i shouldn`t feel that way seeing that i`m probably more gifted than a lot of people and i have a lot to be thankful for, but i honestly feel like i`m going to fail all my finals. i haven`t even started reading english yet, and that final is due...soon</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/114842841675893188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/114842841675893188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2006_05_21_archive.html#114842841675893188' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-113842900752894198</id><published>2006-01-27T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T22:16:47.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>it`s been lightyears&gt;&gt;i`ve decided to resurrect my nearly dead blog. i have virtually nothing to write about. sometimes i don`t even like writing in here. what`s the point? no one reads it...besides, i`m pointless. so i hear my show's getting cancelled. someone needs to give me their justification for that. i mean, how rude. so i`m caught, and i don`t want to get out. i like where i am. i`ve </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/113842900752894198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/113842900752894198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2006_01_22_archive.html#113842900752894198' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-113789174147281510</id><published>2006-01-21T16:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-21T17:02:21.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>i`m so pointlessSERIOUSLY. i am so forking pointless. why do i exist?! someone tell me already. i can`t ever do anything. i have a license but can i use it? NOOOO. i can`t use my own stupid license. while all my friends are out enjoying their teenage years, i`m here at home rotting my ass at home waiting for college to come so i can move far far away and just GO THE FUCK AWAY. i can`t fucking </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/113789174147281510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/113789174147281510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2006_01_15_archive.html#113789174147281510' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112640860084842529</id><published>2005-09-10T20:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-10T20:16:40.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>all dressed up and nowhere to go...&gt;&gt;i`m booooooooored. geebus. i just got home from my cousin`s birthday party. it was JUST starting to get fun when my dad called me and got mad at me for not being home. i did promise him that i`d be home before nighttime, though. but he didn`t have to flip out. goshies. i wonder what they`re doing riiight now. perhaps playing poker. or eating. or hanging with </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112640860084842529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112640860084842529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_09_04_archive.html#112640860084842529' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112597599221827048</id><published>2005-09-05T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T20:06:32.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>wishes...&gt;&gt;wanna know what i want in life? i want to get out. i`m feeling smothered. *puts hands around neck* and my dad is getting mad at me as we speak. excuse me while i attempt to kill myself.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112597599221827048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112597599221827048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_09_04_archive.html#112597599221827048' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112528792238960291</id><published>2005-08-28T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-28T20:58:42.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>and now, the end is near, and so i face, the final curtainmy friend i`ll say it clear i`ll state my case of which i`m certain...&gt;&gt;hey everyone, well, this is it. the end of summer before junior year. my last day was pretty fun. i took those cousins of mine to jamba and the movies. we watched red eye. it was an ALRIGHT movie. i liked it a lot, but it wasn`t exactly what i was expecting. i still </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112528792238960291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112528792238960291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_08_28_archive.html#112528792238960291' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112512227755754551</id><published>2005-08-26T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-26T22:57:57.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>frosh orientation&gt;&gt;was OKAY. it wasn`t AS fun as i thought it would be. it was just a bunch of work. but yeah. our little sisters are sweet and i can`t wait to hang with them and have a slammin` time =). i was dead tired though. all day, all i did was try and be happy and hyper...but that thing doesn`t last all day for me. it fizzled when i got in the car. by that time, i was collapsing and stuff</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112512227755754551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112512227755754551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_08_21_archive.html#112512227755754551' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112483898785589333</id><published>2005-08-23T16:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-23T16:16:27.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SUMMER FRICKEN SUCKED&gt;&gt;yes. that`s right. summer SUCKED. i hated summer. i didn`t do anything, and now it is my last week of "freedom"...although ISOLATION is more like it...and nothing is going to change. i`m still going to be bored. i`m not going to have anything to do, and i`m still going to be asking for rides from people because the stupid license i have is pointless. so pointless that i </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112483898785589333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112483898785589333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_08_21_archive.html#112483898785589333' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112465838259928559</id><published>2005-08-21T11:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-21T14:06:22.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>horizons&gt;&gt;this whole license thing is really fun...i`m trying as hard as possible to enjoy my time with it because before long, it will be nothing but a chore. the excitement will undoubtedly fizzle away with the coming errands and obligations. however, no one is really letting me take the excitement. they`re pushing it off like i don`t have the damn license. i guess you`ve probably figured out </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112465838259928559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112465838259928559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_08_21_archive.html#112465838259928559' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112432533309137197</id><published>2005-08-17T17:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-17T17:35:33.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>frenzy, frenzy, bloody frenzy&gt;&gt;today, was very hectic. i woke up at 8 and got ready for school pictures and book buying day. i have no idea why i had to make myself to pretty, it wasn`t like i was going to a fricken party. my feet were killing me..stupid pumps..so yeah...well at around 9:30 i drove to chelsea`s house, and her mom took us to school (my parents won`t let me drive downtown). and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112432533309137197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112432533309137197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_08_14_archive.html#112432533309137197' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112399637455552821</id><published>2005-08-13T22:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-13T22:12:54.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>christmas list:&gt;LAGUNA BEACH first season DVD (that way i can have a laguna beach party with all my friends. i`ll order pizza!) besides, i HEART lo and trey. they`re my favorite characters. haha. &lt;---this is a MAYBE...depending if aljay really actually got it for me. i`ll get back to you. &gt;SISTERHOOD OF THE TRAVELLING PANTS DVD&gt;THE NOTEBOOK DVD&gt;SERENDIPITY DVD&gt;BIG FISH DVD&gt;FINDING NEVERLAND DVD&gt;</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112399637455552821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112399637455552821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_08_07_archive.html#112399637455552821' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112392236412855115</id><published>2005-08-13T01:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-13T01:39:24.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>kidnapped&gt;&gt;today, my cousins woke me up and kidnapped me. then we went to san francisco for manang`s interview. we ate at mel`s drive in at union square and walked around for awhile. i slapped that austrian cousin of mine. haha. it wasn`t meant to be hard, but hey...i got carried away. sorry. i wanted sunglasses, but i didn`t find any. there were some breakers on the street. normally, i wouldn`t </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112392236412855115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112392236412855115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_08_07_archive.html#112392236412855115' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112378451721826364</id><published>2005-08-11T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T11:23:22.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>3rd annual cousin fun day; woot!&gt;&gt;yesterday was the...you guessed it...third annual cousin fun day. first, manang, antoine, and xtina picked me up. then we picked up gerlad and bryan. then we picked up melani. then we ate in n out. then we played three rounds of pool which was fun. then we went bowling. it was funny because everytime someone got a gutter they had to dance, and at the end of the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112378451721826364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112378451721826364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_08_07_archive.html#112378451721826364' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112355014946230736</id><published>2005-08-08T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-08T18:15:49.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>bored.&gt;&gt;hey i`m bored. but hey! some dum dum at the DMV gave ME a LICENSE =)&gt;&gt;the other night, xtina and that austrian cousin of mine slept over. it was fun. we watched laguna beach and other tv shows and freaky friday and never been kissed. we played the game of life a lot and ate a lot of food (I.e. ice cream and chips) which caused me to not sleep until 6:00 AM. dude. those austrians are </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112355014946230736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112355014946230736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_08_07_archive.html#112355014946230736' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112322488722493894</id><published>2005-08-04T23:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T23:54:47.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PGA WITH THE CUZZOS!&gt;&gt;today was pretty darn fun i must say so myself. manong, manang, gerald, bryan, christine, melani, maryrose, and i went to PGA. first we went on the vortex, which was painful. then we went to the demon, which was also painful, and very rickety and irritating. then we went and took pictures with our old friend billy bob thornton. that guy has sure lost weight since that show..</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112322488722493894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112322488722493894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_07_31_archive.html#112322488722493894' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112292817170805252</id><published>2005-08-01T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T13:29:31.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LONER LOSER for LIFE&gt;&gt;hah. yeah, i`m a LOOOSSSAH. with a capital L. not that it matters ... losers rule the universe.&gt;&gt;hrm de drm ... where SHALL i start? i`m watching hogan knows best. i have seriously seen this particular episode about twelve times. actually, i`ve seen EVERY episode about twelve times because i`m always at home. however, this past weekend wasn`t all too bad. on saturday, i woke</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112292817170805252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112292817170805252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_07_31_archive.html#112292817170805252' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112269422407316017</id><published>2005-07-29T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T20:30:24.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>wow, i blogged 3 days ago, but it feels like 12 days ago&gt;&gt;i am so unbelievably bored. this summer has been unproductive. i have done absolutely nothing with my time (in terms of going out and actually ENJOYING summer). i didn`t even get to spend as much time with my cousins as much as i was looking forward to during the year. all i do is watch television or do chores or play piano. my GOD, and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112269422407316017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112269422407316017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_07_24_archive.html#112269422407316017' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112236209275925584</id><published>2005-07-26T00:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T00:14:52.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>laguna beach...DOWN&gt;&gt;new season ROCKS.&gt;&gt;aljay bought me the season 1 dvd set.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112236209275925584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112236209275925584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_07_24_archive.html#112236209275925584' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112234538292742356</id><published>2005-07-25T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T19:36:22.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>i`m going to put my xmas list at the top of every post now so you guys will never forget!&gt;LAGUNA BEACH first season DVD (that way i can have a laguna beach party with all my friends. i`ll order pizza!) besides, i HEART lo and trey. they`re my favorite characters. haha.&gt;GIFT CARD for TARGET so that if you can`t get me the DVD, i`ll just get it myself =).&gt;GIFT CARD for MACY*S. because i HEART MACY*</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112234538292742356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112234538292742356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_07_24_archive.html#112234538292742356' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112197562438544808</id><published>2005-07-21T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T12:53:44.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>my unbelievably early CHRISTMAS list!&gt;&gt;i was doing the dishes, and i started thinking about all the things i want for christmas for some reason. so here you go...get an early start ;D!&gt;LAGUNA BEACH first season DVD (that way i can have a laguna beach party with all my friends. i`ll order pizza!) besides, i HEART lo and trey. they`re my favorite characters. haha.&gt;GIFT CARD for TARGET so that if </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112197562438544808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112197562438544808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_07_17_archive.html#112197562438544808' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112183136724590336</id><published>2005-07-19T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-19T20:49:27.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>blow out!&gt;&gt;kathleen is watching BLOW OUT. kathleen loves this show even though it only has to do with people doing hair for the beverly hills price of $2000000000. hmm, so anyway, there are ants all over my room. do you have any idea how much that bugs? it makes me feel like i`m in the philippines and i`m swatting anything that is smaller than a grain of my hair and moves. geez. hmm, so what has </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112183136724590336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112183136724590336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_07_17_archive.html#112183136724590336' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112146910911404091</id><published>2005-07-15T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T16:11:49.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>more than words is all you have to do to make it real&gt;&gt;hmm, a lot has been going on. as you know, zarina`s party was really fun. hmm..i finally completed driver training. the driver training that i should have completed more than a year ago. now all that`s next is to take the test! aah. i`m scared that i`m going to do something really stupid and fail tremendously, and the examiner is going to say</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112146910911404091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112146910911404091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_07_10_archive.html#112146910911404091' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112094646613246147</id><published>2005-07-09T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-09T15:01:06.136-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>zar`s party!&gt;&gt;yesterday was zarina`s party. it was really fun. i loved it. everyone was beautiful though, and i got a low self-esteem. the food was good, and the setting was really charming! it really was nice. and i was actually early! wow! but yeah, here are some pictures. the other ones are on my photobucket. which, if you go on http://www.photobucket.com and search for 'imasupernerd' you </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112094646613246147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112094646613246147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_07_03_archive.html#112094646613246147' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112024509186939647</id><published>2005-07-01T11:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-01T12:11:31.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>pga.&gt;&gt;hey. yesterday, mike, alex, ryan, steve, matt, chels, abby, and i went to pga. it was sooo fun. at first, i was kinda mad because i thought we weren`t gonna have enough time to hang out, but it was fun. we went to the waterpark...which...i`m sorry, does NOT equal up to raging waters. and yeah, afterwards, we ate. then we just walked around forever and stood around forever. the others went </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112024509186939647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112024509186939647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_06_26_archive.html#112024509186939647' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-112002516571596804</id><published>2005-06-28T22:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T23:06:05.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>all those days of wishing...&gt;&gt;...finally paid off. last week i was unbelievably bored--wondering what the hell i was supposed to do for the rest of summer. almost, but i didn`t really, prayed for school. hmmm...but then work started, and i`ve been having a great time at work. my time is better occupied, and even though it`s tiring, it keeps me busy. besides, i think it`s a bit fun. it`s where i </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112002516571596804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/112002516571596804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_06_26_archive.html#112002516571596804' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111959292138842964</id><published>2005-06-23T22:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-23T23:02:01.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>bright sunshiny day&gt;&gt;another eventful day with my cousins. i did a couple chores after i woke up, and got ready. soon enough, my cousins called me to go golfing--this year`s summer sport. last year it was pool. two summers ago it was bowling. next year..? who knows? anyway, we went to the golfing range, and didn`t seem to want to stay so long today. it was definitely fun. we brought my cousins </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111959292138842964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111959292138842964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_06_19_archive.html#111959292138842964' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111946641678604251</id><published>2005-06-22T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-22T11:53:36.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>stop filipino racism&gt;&gt;i found this on a message board. it is 101% true.After receiving an email containing the alleged Hate letter from Art Bell, I was initially outraged by the hateful cintents of his letter. I wanted to find out more about the creep who authored such a sick letter! I searched for more information about him in the internet, and here's what I was able to gather: FILIPINOS ARE </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111946641678604251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111946641678604251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_06_19_archive.html#111946641678604251' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111930392809351713</id><published>2005-06-20T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-20T14:45:28.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>oxymoron of the day: cold summer&gt;&gt;well, isn`t it a pleasure seeing me here again. i don`t know when the last time i wrote was, but i guess i`ll just recap on the past few days. or maybe not. i don`t know.&gt;&gt;saturday was my cousin, vanessa`s, birthday. she is now nineteen years old. i started remembering when we were all younger and wondering what the hell we`d all be like when we got to this point</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111930392809351713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111930392809351713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_06_19_archive.html#111930392809351713' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111886341512667489</id><published>2005-06-15T12:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-15T12:24:46.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>the pop-up wars...written by MOI...&gt;&gt;and so the story begins one summer afternoon in the humble abode owned by my parents. i was just minding my business when:xXimAsuperNERDXx: antoine!xXimAsuperNERDXx: it`s attacking me!xXimAsuperNERDXx: THE spyware!xXimAsuperNERDXx: THE adware!xXimAsuperNERDXx: THE POP UPS!xXimAsuperNERDXx: AAAAAH!cellphoneGEEK1: yeah... i don't knowxXimAsuperNERDXx: antoine!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111886341512667489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111886341512667489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_06_12_archive.html#111886341512667489' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111861974017624139</id><published>2005-06-12T16:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-12T16:42:20.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>wow. it`s definitely been awhile. i need to wake up and smell the flowers.&gt;&gt;hey everyone! i`m sorry, i haven`t been on in a while. well actually, i kid you, i go on my blog everyday. i`m just too lazy to actually blog. right, so with that said, i`m going to start you on my trek through a long and somewhat busy week. ready? it`s gonna be a long ride. okay, so we`ll start with sunday. i believe </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111861974017624139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111861974017624139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_06_12_archive.html#111861974017624139' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111793565477797778</id><published>2005-06-04T18:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-04T18:41:53.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>partay pictures!&gt;&gt;i felt like i was in the future when i saw this.awww it`s BLURRY...oh well--&gt; FROM L-R: zarina, chels, mark, adam, crystal, codilla, ryan, me, mike, milan (top), aaron/erin...(can`t spell) bottom [missing from pic: josh, heath, and matt]BAD HEATHERme and the lover...=)look at crystal being all pimpette!hahaha...guys always think they`re cool...zar&amp;chels:O!what now bitch?!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111793565477797778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111793565477797778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_29_archive.html#111793565477797778' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111791901319093157</id><published>2005-06-04T13:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-04T14:03:33.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> i party ! &gt;&gt;last night was mike`s party. it was so fun! ok, so i did nothing for the whole day, except anticipate mike`s party. at around 3:30, i started getting ready, but we didn`t actually leave the house until almost 7 (around 6:40). we picked chelsea up and headed on our way. hecka crazy traffic, and geez louise, his house was s0o0o0o friggin FAR. sheeeesh! hecka hecka hecka far. i thought </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111791901319093157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111791901319093157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_29_archive.html#111791901319093157' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111724232740180361</id><published>2005-05-27T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T18:05:27.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>class day&gt;&gt;hey everyone! today was class day, and i`m really sore. right, so i`m going to start from the beginning of the day and end at..now. duh. well anyway, let`s begeen. this morning, i woke up and got dressed. i tried to do my makeup really quickly, but my dad was hurrying me, so i had to bring my mascara and eyeliner to school with me. so yeah. i wore my new white shrug that i bought at </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111724232740180361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111724232740180361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_22_archive.html#111724232740180361' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111690096217106016</id><published>2005-05-23T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-23T19:16:02.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>bored out of my wits&gt;&gt;hmm, let me recap my weekend for you.&gt;&gt;saturday. studied spanish for four hours, and did nothing for the rest of the day. lovely way to spend my saturdays.&gt;&gt;sunday, went to church. i totally forgot that it was sr. sharon`s last day/farewell mass ghetto shit. i went to the reception and saw all the teachers and people i know and ish like that. it was fun. hung out with stine,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111690096217106016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111690096217106016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_22_archive.html#111690096217106016' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111672320328830142</id><published>2005-05-21T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-21T17:53:23.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>if you`re a mule and i`m a camel, does that make us mamels?&gt;&gt;well, let`s see, where SHOULD i start? hmmm...friday was the spring gala. alrighty, so i got excused from class at 9:30. we went to the fairmont and we sang at around 11-12. it was fun. we chilled and played spoons, and yeah, it was fun. got in a BIT of trouble though because of ULTIMATE spoons. chyeah...ultimate spoons. ask me and i`ll</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111672320328830142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111672320328830142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_15_archive.html#111672320328830142' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111628732702607108</id><published>2005-05-16T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T16:48:47.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>cold cherries are yummy on hot spring days&gt;&gt;alright, so here`s my life from the past two days in a nutshell: ahem ahem. listen.&gt;&gt;friday was soph/senior brunch. it wasn`t bad, but it wasn`t great, but i still had a great time with my sisters. =). good times. camille did an awesome job singing for us. she was, by far, the best vocalist there. allison did this crazy ass tahitian booty shakin` which </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111628732702607108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111628732702607108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_15_archive.html#111628732702607108' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111608517233562541</id><published>2005-05-14T08:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-14T10:04:25.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>the sison family crest:http://www.houseofnames.com/xq/asp.fc/qx/sison-family-crest.htm#productsgerman; motto: "hope for the best"the de la cruz family crest:http://www.houseofnames.com/coatofarms_details.asp?sId=&amp;s=de+la+cruzspanish; "of the cross"the manuel family crest:http://www.houseofnames.com/coatofarms_details.asp?sId=&amp;s=manuelspanishthe anson family crest:http://www.houseofnames.com/</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111608517233562541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111608517233562541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_08_archive.html#111608517233562541' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111608306447543823</id><published>2005-05-14T07:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-15T18:08:18.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>hot randomness...&gt;&gt;wow, this was a long time ago, but hey, it`s hot. i love it.look at my nephew, he pimps himself up!my so freakin` cute cousins. Jerome and MACok enough, how`s about you just go to my photobucket yes? http://photobucket.com/albums/v234/imasupernerd/</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111608306447543823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111608306447543823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_08_archive.html#111608306447543823' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111604070944114357</id><published>2005-05-13T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T20:18:29.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>this is so hot i had to put it here:&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;forgiveness...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111604070944114357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111604070944114357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_08_archive.html#111604070944114357' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111590829534679003</id><published>2005-05-12T07:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T07:31:35.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>have you ever fantasized about death? or am i the only one?&gt;&gt;i don`t know why i was thinking of that. i guess i feel as if i`m unaccomplished, and what would happen if i died randomly? i wonder if anyone would care. i wonder if anyone would feel bad for any shit that they put me through. hmm...such a thought to think about...i`ll think about it later.&gt;&gt;i fucked up in driving AGAIN today. i fucked</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111590829534679003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111590829534679003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_08_archive.html#111590829534679003' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111557971400732623</id><published>2005-05-08T12:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-08T12:15:14.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>screw hangin` with mr. cooper...hangin` with the cousins is cooler.&gt;last night, it was my cousin bryan`s birthday. we didn`t do much. we chilled most of the time. we spent like...3 hours at target and walgreen`s for mother`s day shopping. what else? we honestly didn`t do much. it was kinda boring. my lil cousin jerome is really cute. he just gives you hugs..out of nowhere. it`s so cute. i love </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111557971400732623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111557971400732623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_08_archive.html#111557971400732623' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111542056907847314</id><published>2005-05-06T15:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-06T16:02:49.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>i feel like jane eyre...&gt;&gt;hi everyone. i bet you`re all wondering why i feel like jane eyre. well, a very recurring motif in jane eyre is isolation. the reason for her isolation is because everytime she gets close to someone, she loses them--or they leave her. for instance, she got close to helen burns, then helen died. she idolized miss temple, then [miss temple] got married. i`m currently at </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111542056907847314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111542056907847314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111542056907847314' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111523016797048042</id><published>2005-05-04T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T11:09:27.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ONE TREE HILL LAST NIGHT!!!&gt;&gt;geeze. is it just me or is it that every single friggin person in one tree hill is a fruckin hottie. that teacher guy is hot. what`s his name? "andy"? he`s hot. that race car guy was hot. that kid who played that one chick`s brother last night was hot...let me tell you why. BECAUSE HE`S JAMES LAFFERTY`S REAL BROTHER IN REAL LIFE. CAN YOU SAY, "RUNS IN THE FAMILIA!!!" </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111523016797048042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111523016797048042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111523016797048042' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111505916036966594</id><published>2005-05-02T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-02T11:39:20.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>i`m over life...and i think i`ve had enough&gt;&gt;exactly one month until summer. i think i`m going to cry. from now until the second semester of senior year, i`m going to be so so stressed out. i`m going to cry. the end of the year of sophomore year is killing me. i just want to burn all the tests and quizzes, and since we`re talking  about burning, i`d like to "burn" [figuratively] the "burn book" </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111505916036966594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111505916036966594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111505916036966594' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111488554970643455</id><published>2005-04-30T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-30T11:25:49.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>mixer...&gt;&gt;that mixer was fun. at first, i didn`t really want to go because i wasn`t feeling well, A, and B, i i thought someone was going to be there to make me feel inferior. However, both of those things soon diminished once i saw mike. =) we spent the whole night together. for some reason, it was almost impossible for us to find our friends. we just didn`t seem to know where they went. they </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111488554970643455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111488554970643455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_04_24_archive.html#111488554970643455' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111473209708114981</id><published>2005-04-28T16:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T16:48:17.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>playing for keeps?&gt;&gt;yeah, playing for keeps has been my song lately. hmm, today was a bad bad horrible day that i`m honestly tired of talking about. i`m not going to tell you anything because i don`t want to publicize everything to people who probably aren`t even involved. i mean, i didn`t do much of anything, but i still get attacked. it`s amazing really. but, no kathleen, we don`t want to talk </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111473209708114981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111473209708114981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_04_24_archive.html#111473209708114981' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111473209012453095</id><published>2005-04-28T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T16:48:10.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>playing for keeps?&gt;&gt;yeah, playing for keeps has been my song lately. hmm, today was a bad bad horrible day that i`m honestly tired of talking about. i`m not going to tell you anything because i don`t want to publicize everything to people who probably aren`t even involved. i mean, i didn`t do much of anything, but i still get attacked. it`s amazing really. but, no kathleen, we don`t want to talk </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111473209012453095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111473209012453095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_04_24_archive.html#111473209012453095' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111456247445989661</id><published>2005-04-26T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T17:41:14.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>bored, stressed...i want to punch something&gt;&gt;hey everyone. i`ve been really stressed out lately. i don`t know, i have a whole bunch of baloney running through my mind. i only have five weeks left of school though!!! whee, how exciting! i have problems. i don`t know. and eventually, all my problems accumulate into one big problem, and then i take it out on someone i probably shouldn`t take it out </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111456247445989661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111456247445989661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_04_24_archive.html#111456247445989661' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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-3763975.post-111433058134030611</id><published>2005-04-24T01:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-24T01:16:21.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>FAMILY PARTAY &gt;&gt;hey everyone! well, everyone of my family just left. this was one of the funnest family parties. well at first, it wasn`t that great. it was boring like most of my family parties. however, today was hella fun. i don`t know. my family parties are never fun until it gets to be night time. you see, someone broke out the REX NAVARETTE. that guy is hella pinoy. he is s0o0o0o funny. we </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111433058134030611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3763975/posts/default/111433058134030611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illbitchatyou.blogspot.com/2005_04_24_archive.html#111433058134030611' title=''/><author><name>kathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14517345618532339008</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>
