<?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-6086596447636354066</id><updated>2011-07-08T04:32:37.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dichotomy</title><subtitle type='html'>di·chot·o·my
n. pl. di·chot·o·mies 
1. Division into two usually contradictory parts or opinions: "the dichotomy of the one and the many" (Louis Auchincloss).</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6086596447636354066/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Short 'n Redheaded</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6086596447636354066.post-4136084677617629371</id><published>2010-07-31T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T21:55:51.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 140%;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Though on  paper I appeared to have a good life, the truth was that I was   positively miserable.  And so, in my usual studious and analytical   form, I sat down and took stock of my life.  I tried to figure out what   it was that was making me so unhappy, and how it could even be possible   that I was unhappy, even though I Did Everything I Was Supposed to  Do.   Then one day, it finally dawned on me:&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I could  not have been put on this Earth to work this hard at being an  individual.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 140%;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Borrowed from the amazing &lt;a href="http://www.chookooloonks.com/blog/2010/7/29/love-thursday-i-am-enough.html"&gt;Chookooloonks&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 140%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 140%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6086596447636354066-4136084677617629371?l=ebilest.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/feeds/4136084677617629371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/2010/07/though-on-paper-i-appeared-to-have-good.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6086596447636354066/posts/default/4136084677617629371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6086596447636354066/posts/default/4136084677617629371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/2010/07/though-on-paper-i-appeared-to-have-good.html' title=''/><author><name>Short 'n Redheaded</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6086596447636354066.post-3169813285671519592</id><published>2010-03-06T14:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T20:03:14.955-08:00</updated><title type='text'>warning: this post has a lot of swearing in it.</title><content type='html'>I'm currently at my parents' house - came to surprise the Mom for her 60th birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am crankier than FUCK. My friends are all in bad moods - or else none of them care that I'm here and just want me to go away again, none of them are understanding me when I'm trying to ask questions about what is going on (ie - Question: DO we HAVE to wear a hat? Is it part of the rules? answer: well last year I wore three so no you don't HAVE to wear one. ... WHAT?!??!). I'm tired of being the fattest person in the family and feeling like a great big disgusting blob ("You know, if you took the dog for walks more, you wouldn't be so heavy." FUCK YOU.) I don't want to go out. I don't want to stay in. I kind of want to go home, but not really. I'm tired of people not answering my texts. I feel totally left out of everything. SIGH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps... I HATE VISTA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6086596447636354066-3169813285671519592?l=ebilest.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/feeds/3169813285671519592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/2010/03/warning-this-post-doesnt-have-much-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6086596447636354066/posts/default/3169813285671519592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6086596447636354066/posts/default/3169813285671519592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/2010/03/warning-this-post-doesnt-have-much-to.html' title='warning: this post has a lot of swearing in it.'/><author><name>Short 'n Redheaded</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6086596447636354066.post-5018527507242021151</id><published>2010-02-23T14:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T14:08:13.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class='posterous_autopost'&gt;I found this great quote by Ashe Mischief that I absolutely LOVE: &lt;p /&gt; "As I get older, I sometimes find my own insecurities to be a great &lt;br /&gt;means of jump starting myself to change something, to make something, &lt;br /&gt;to do something other than be jealous. It makes me evaluate my &lt;br /&gt;feelings–oftentimes, making me realize that while I may be jealous or &lt;br /&gt;envious, that I may not WANT to put the work in to attaining it for &lt;br /&gt;myself. &lt;p /&gt; For me, a great example of this is related to body weight and image. &lt;br /&gt;While I may be entirely jealous of Kate Moss’s svelte figure, her now &lt;br /&gt;infamous quote, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” reveals a &lt;br /&gt;mindset that I have no interest in. My jealousy dies down– because I &lt;br /&gt;don’t want to deny myself delicious foods, spend all of my time &lt;br /&gt;working out, or damaging myself emotionally to spend that much time &amp; &lt;br /&gt;energy fixated on my weight. It’ll inspire me to eat better, eat &lt;br /&gt;less, and move more, but will remind me that I can utterly enjoy &lt;br /&gt;eating experiences as well. In short, it reminds me that I’m the one &lt;br /&gt;coming out ahead…not Kate Moss." &lt;p style="font-size: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://posterous.com"&gt;Posted via email&lt;/a&gt;  from &lt;a href="http://glitterfiend.posterous.com/12198901"&gt;Shannon's posterous&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6086596447636354066-5018527507242021151?l=ebilest.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/feeds/5018527507242021151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/2010/02/untitled.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6086596447636354066/posts/default/5018527507242021151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6086596447636354066/posts/default/5018527507242021151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ebilest.blogspot.com/2010/02/untitled.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>Short 'n Redheaded</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
