<?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-4438955446949360326</id><updated>2011-07-07T22:56:02.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Not Your Average Girl</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>one_short_chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15935497997400119136</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0P6cZa59eI/AAAAAAAAAAY/TTXFkfDAHkk/S220/snapshot-18.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4438955446949360326.post-4856403592281826379</id><published>2010-01-19T17:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T18:12:50.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Barbie</title><content type='html'>So I have recently discovered that I have issues with Barbie. I'm not saying that I didn't love playing with Barbie's when I was little. I always loved my Barbies. But in the past five or so years Barbie has changed a lot. &lt;br /&gt;Barbie is a dissapointment to me now. She used to be a role model. Barbie has issues... &lt;br /&gt;#1... She divorced Ken, her partner of almost 50 years. Wow.&lt;br /&gt;#2... Though she divorced Ken she's still going out with him, and a numerous amount of other little plastic men. That's pretty stupid.&lt;br /&gt;#3... She got a tattoo. Nothing's wrong with tattoo's exactly, but when you are a role model to 5 year old girls do you really think you should have a tattoo?&lt;br /&gt;#4... The way she dresses. OK, so Barbie's always worn bikini's that should be enough. But now, she wears such low-cut things it's embarassing to see little girls playing with them in public. &lt;br /&gt;#5... Though this has always been a problem I'm finally truly realizing it. Her porportions and her perfection. No wonder girls of this generation have eating disorders, cut themselves, commit suicide. Barbie is Miss Perfect, and it's impossible to be like her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4438955446949360326-4856403592281826379?l=sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4856403592281826379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/barbie.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/4856403592281826379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/4856403592281826379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/barbie.html' title='Barbie'/><author><name>one_short_chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15935497997400119136</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0P6cZa59eI/AAAAAAAAAAY/TTXFkfDAHkk/S220/snapshot-18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4438955446949360326.post-5036755338606650709</id><published>2010-01-14T18:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T18:37:09.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Poreclain Heart</title><content type='html'>I have so many questions regarding this life. Most of them revolve around what teenage girls are thinking. First of all, although I am a girl, I do not understand most girls. Well, I don't understand most people at all. But girls especially. Guys are generally easy. Girls on the other hand... whoa. Not only do I not understand most girls, I don't even understand myself. Anyways, that's not exactly what I meant by writing this...&lt;br /&gt;Every other Thursday I clean this ladie's house. It's a pretty easy job, I just clean the floors. It takes about an hour, and for that hour I'm by myself; free to think. Think and listen to music while I mop. I've had some pretty big revelation's while cleaning that house. Today I was thinking about myself, not in a self-centered sort of way, but just trying to understand what my dumb brain goes through. Basically I was thinking about this huge situation that's been going on. I have this friend and my sister hates him. Maybe hate is a strong word, or maybe it's the perfect word to describe her feelings. Either way, she strongly dislikes him and tells him outright her distaste for him. Her main problem is the fact that he "likes" me, but also "likes" other girls because he can't date me, because I don't date. But I still talk to him. I let him keep liking me like that, even though I know it's stupidity. Even though I know it will never lead to anything (or at least for many many many year). &lt;br /&gt;And then I realized how stupid all of us girls are. We say we want true love. We want Prince Charming. The perfect man. Edward Cullen. But we don't ever give them the chance to be the courteous gentleman that we all want. We pounce. We take over. And if we want true love, love that's going to last till death do us part, why in the world do we allow what we allow from guys? Seriously. The majority of high school couples KNOW that they will not be marrid to whoever. Their "relationship" probably won't last a year, and if it does it won't last through college. So why do we do it? Do we really want "THE ONE" to have to glue us back together? Because whether you believe it or not every ended relationship that you ever have is going to chip away a little bit of your heart. A part that you can't give your husband, because someone else has that part of you.  &lt;br /&gt;I don't want my future husband to have to have the tedious job of stitching me back up. I want to be whole, so he doesn't have to worry that part of me is with someone else. &lt;br /&gt;Though this all seems to be me rambling, and maybe nothing is connecting to anyone but me, basically what I'm saying is: &lt;br /&gt;I have a porcelain heart. I'm very breakable. I must be handled with care, and it would be worth my while to let no one at all handle me util its true love. Because your true love won't break you. All those others, they don't care. Maybe that's harsh. I'm sure they care, but they aren't as careful because you don't belong to them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4438955446949360326-5036755338606650709?l=sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5036755338606650709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-poreclain-heart.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/5036755338606650709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/5036755338606650709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-poreclain-heart.html' title='My Poreclain Heart'/><author><name>one_short_chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15935497997400119136</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0P6cZa59eI/AAAAAAAAAAY/TTXFkfDAHkk/S220/snapshot-18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4438955446949360326.post-8108256461830823894</id><published>2010-01-10T17:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T18:01:15.829-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a bunch of pictures.</title><content type='html'>As of late I love taking pictures and playing around with them. Here are some of favorites/best:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qEm1hk6eI/AAAAAAAAADE/GIE6egc6eEA/s1600-h/converse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qEm1hk6eI/AAAAAAAAADE/GIE6egc6eEA/s200/converse.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425294503858989538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^This is a picture of my sister. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qEdYu_YGI/AAAAAAAAAC8/8jjLGwU0tUw/s1600-h/starrrs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qEdYu_YGI/AAAAAAAAAC8/8jjLGwU0tUw/s200/starrrs.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425294341511798882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^Another one of my sister&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qEVJ-EXzI/AAAAAAAAAC0/e2Bk7Vl5AXU/s1600-h/heartts.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qEVJ-EXzI/AAAAAAAAAC0/e2Bk7Vl5AXU/s200/heartts.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425294200109555506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^Sister again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qEAcoHFsI/AAAAAAAAACs/8Hz-NLGD9TY/s1600-h/skulls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qEAcoHFsI/AAAAAAAAACs/8Hz-NLGD9TY/s200/skulls.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425293844340479682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^Sissie. You can check out her blog at masochisticconverse.blogspot.com &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qDzkQgY8I/AAAAAAAAACk/uywV8NM66T8/s1600-h/no+no.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qDzkQgY8I/AAAAAAAAACk/uywV8NM66T8/s200/no+no.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425293623050658754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^My sister Noelle again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qDsvYCPlI/AAAAAAAAACc/Mx5d8s53GAY/s1600-h/piano.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qDsvYCPlI/AAAAAAAAACc/Mx5d8s53GAY/s200/piano.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425293505775943250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^That's my piano. I love my piano. (hence the heart)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qDivv9pGI/AAAAAAAAACU/TOOz7ytcKhc/s1600-h/geek+with+cooolla.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qDivv9pGI/AAAAAAAAACU/TOOz7ytcKhc/s200/geek+with+cooolla.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425293334077613154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^That's me. My geek showing through. Which isn't hard to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qCiknHNQI/AAAAAAAAACM/PVwQr876GDk/s1600-h/buttafly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qCiknHNQI/AAAAAAAAACM/PVwQr876GDk/s200/buttafly.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425292231576073474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^I really like this picture. A little old school, a little butterflies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's some of my pictures. Feel free to leave comments.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4438955446949360326-8108256461830823894?l=sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8108256461830823894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/bunch-of-pictures.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/8108256461830823894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/8108256461830823894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/bunch-of-pictures.html' title='a bunch of pictures.'/><author><name>one_short_chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15935497997400119136</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0P6cZa59eI/AAAAAAAAAAY/TTXFkfDAHkk/S220/snapshot-18.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0qEm1hk6eI/AAAAAAAAADE/GIE6egc6eEA/s72-c/converse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4438955446949360326.post-4610928045807189251</id><published>2010-01-10T16:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T16:44:46.247-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Normal??</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I get this overwhelming, sad feeling.Like I'm missing someone, but I never know who exactly. Sometimes I think I do, but then when I really start thinking about that person, I realize that's not who I'm missing really. I don't know WHO I'm missing...&lt;br /&gt;Right now I think it's my Aunt. I miss her. But I know that's not ultimately who I'm missing. I mean, I'm for sure missing her, but not the same way. You know? Maybe you don't. Maybe I'm just weird. Maybe I'm dramatic. Or maybe I'm just so confused about my feelings all the time, and I never know what I'm really feeling. &lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think I have issues. Like I'm not normal. But what is normal? Truly, is there such a thing as normal? I know that there's such a thing as average, but normal? I think that people use them like they mean the same thing, but I don't think I do. You have statistics, and you can take the average of those statistics mathmatically by taking the total and dividing it by how many specimens you have. But being normal, how do you tell when something's normal. Is there such a thing? Everyone's different, different DNA, different bodies, different personalities. It's a proven fact. That's how humans are. We're SUPPOSED to be different. So can you be, as a human, normal? Who comes up with these "normals"? Who decided what is or isnt normal. Who has the right to? &lt;br /&gt;I'm normal for me. You're normal for you. I couldn't tell you that you're not normal because you aren't 4 foot 10 inches like me. And you can't tell me I'm not normal because I am 4 foot 10 inches. &lt;br /&gt;What's normal? You tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*~*~*thats just my point of view*~*~*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4438955446949360326-4610928045807189251?l=sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4610928045807189251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/normal.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/4610928045807189251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/4610928045807189251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/normal.html' title='Normal??'/><author><name>one_short_chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15935497997400119136</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0P6cZa59eI/AAAAAAAAAAY/TTXFkfDAHkk/S220/snapshot-18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4438955446949360326.post-848088867392698554</id><published>2010-01-08T21:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T21:25:06.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Hearts</title><content type='html'>This one's for Noey, love ya little sister:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makeup smears&lt;br /&gt;From her salty tears&lt;br /&gt;Black lines&lt;br /&gt;Streaming down&lt;br /&gt;Her smiling face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her heart of porcelain&lt;br /&gt;Held safely in his hands&lt;br /&gt;Until they meet again&lt;br /&gt;Safe and sound&lt;br /&gt;How it had been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the tips of her toes&lt;br /&gt;Her eyes search the rows&lt;br /&gt;Of people stepping&lt;br /&gt;Off of the plane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His eyes meet hers&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the world&lt;br /&gt;Is a blurr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her tear stained face&lt;br /&gt;Now in his sturdy hands&lt;br /&gt;Wiping away tears of joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two hearts&lt;br /&gt;One kept from the other&lt;br /&gt;No longer apart&lt;br /&gt;Safe and sound&lt;br /&gt;How it always had been&lt;br /&gt;And always will be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4438955446949360326-848088867392698554?l=sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/848088867392698554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/two-hearts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/848088867392698554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/848088867392698554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/two-hearts.html' title='Two Hearts'/><author><name>one_short_chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15935497997400119136</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0P6cZa59eI/AAAAAAAAAAY/TTXFkfDAHkk/S220/snapshot-18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4438955446949360326.post-5900271695460467735</id><published>2010-01-07T18:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T18:25:24.962-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Overthinking...</title><content type='html'>It seems as if I'm making blogging a daily occurance. Which isn't totally a bad thing. Probably everyone, if anyone, reading thinks I'm a bit on the obsessive side. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking about making this whole blog into a "Daily life of the Not So Average Girl", but that would be overly boring. I don't do much at all... Everyone would be continually bored with me. And seeing as I'm not your average girl, I have no hilarious dating stories, no funny things about partying, or getting high. Nothing "interesting". My life basically consists of my home education, Monday Purity Ring Drama Group, Tuesday teaching gymnastics, Wednesday Youth Group, and every othe Thursday cleaning house for a local woman, and on Sundays I go to church. Not that anyone particularly cares. Maybe my life is a little more full than I thought. But still very far from interesting. Then there's the idea that I could make a bunch of stuff up, not necessarily lie, but write some fiction; short stories maybe. Though that would be slightly interesting, it wouldn't be the truth and I LOOVE the ultimate truth. &lt;br /&gt;Maybe you can't imagine that I've actually been thinking about these things. But I have. I've been giving the thought of how to manage my blog quite a lot of attention. Wow. You must be thinking. Maybe this girl is overthinking this whole blog thing. Well, you may be right. You most likely are. But, no matter, I have now decided what I shall continually write about:&lt;br /&gt;My personal thoughts on anything. Some may find thinking odd. But I love the idea of massive thinkers, and I am proud to say that I am one of them. Hey, I even think about thinking (you've got to admit that the general idea that you, yourself, have to capability of thinking. pondering things. is amazing. wonderful... thats a whole blog in and of itself). &lt;br /&gt;So generally deep, hopefully sometimes funny, not your average girl kind of blogs are coming your way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                         *~*~*that's just my point of view*~*~*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4438955446949360326-5900271695460467735?l=sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5900271695460467735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/overthinking.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/5900271695460467735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/5900271695460467735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/overthinking.html' title='Overthinking...'/><author><name>one_short_chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15935497997400119136</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0P6cZa59eI/AAAAAAAAAAY/TTXFkfDAHkk/S220/snapshot-18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4438955446949360326.post-3414041996547092877</id><published>2010-01-06T10:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T10:46:09.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Goodbyes</title><content type='html'>Last night while I was lying in bed... trying to go to sleep while my sister was fighting of a computer virus... I got a random hit of inspiration for a poem. I'm seriously not depressed. Nor have I lost a spouse... for heaven's sake I'm only 15. So this is my poem, written last night at midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; A solitary tear&lt;br /&gt;Flows down her sullen, pale cheek&lt;br /&gt;Her heavy soul&lt;br /&gt;Hasn't slept or eaten in nearly a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more tremble&lt;br /&gt;Erupts from her lonely heart&lt;br /&gt;As if he's&lt;br /&gt;Ripping it apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts run vivid through her mind&lt;br /&gt;Walking, talking, kissing, touching&lt;br /&gt;Now she wants to run and hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another tear escapes&lt;br /&gt;Her closed eyes&lt;br /&gt;It's time for last goodbyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her stone cold hand&lt;br /&gt;Strokes the grey stone&lt;br /&gt;Her voice sounding monotone&lt;br /&gt;Why'd you have to go&lt;br /&gt;Leave me all alone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time to tow&lt;br /&gt;Her shattered heart home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wind blows her hair&lt;br /&gt;As she stands to leave&lt;br /&gt;I know it's not fair&lt;br /&gt;She hears a voice whisper&lt;br /&gt;I'll miss you&lt;br /&gt;And I love you, you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please post comments!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4438955446949360326-3414041996547092877?l=sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3414041996547092877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/last-goodbyes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/3414041996547092877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/3414041996547092877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/last-goodbyes.html' title='Last Goodbyes'/><author><name>one_short_chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15935497997400119136</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0P6cZa59eI/AAAAAAAAAAY/TTXFkfDAHkk/S220/snapshot-18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4438955446949360326.post-4746510275992788840</id><published>2010-01-05T18:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T19:15:10.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Year's Lessons</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0QAMWImU0I/AAAAAAAAABA/ouRDmPmXSL8/s1600-h/183.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423460063360996162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0QAMWImU0I/AAAAAAAAABA/ouRDmPmXSL8/s200/183.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This past year (2009) has been quite the year. I think I've learned a lot this year. And I think I've grown up and found out who I am, or at least who I want to be. There have been many lessons learned.&lt;br /&gt;There were some troubles last year, and a couple of times I started hating myself. Both of the troubles had to do with my "friends". One time I about gave up, I stopped eating because I was so stressed and then I became more stressed because I was losing weight and none of my clothes were fitting, which made me eat even less. What a cycle. I don't think I really learned anything that time around. The worse one was when my cousin, who I love so very very much, basically disowned me. This time I learned something. I've learned that when you love someone, it doesn't mean you have to let them walk all over you. And that was really hard for me to grasp. It was like I didn't care how many people walked all over me, I thought that was how it was supposed to be. Being a Christian and all, I thought, you should do whatever you could for whoever asked. But that means you're being taken advantage of, and the Bible says nothing about that.&lt;br /&gt;Basically I think I've grown up. I'm not the completely shy, awkward, kind of tomboy I was at the beginning of 2009. I'm now the still shy, a little awkward, ok with not being liked, ok with being a little out there, and semi-confident almost 16 year old girl. All in all, I think I've learned to be comfortable in my own skin. That's probably the hardest lesson I've ever learned, but I think that now that I've learned it, I will be able to show the world the full potential of me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4438955446949360326-4746510275992788840?l=sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4746510275992788840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/last-years-lessons.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/4746510275992788840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4438955446949360326/posts/default/4746510275992788840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sonotyouraveragegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/last-years-lessons.html' title='Last Year&apos;s Lessons'/><author><name>one_short_chick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15935497997400119136</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0P6cZa59eI/AAAAAAAAAAY/TTXFkfDAHkk/S220/snapshot-18.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xje8ZV6X-DM/S0QAMWImU0I/AAAAAAAAABA/ouRDmPmXSL8/s72-c/183.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
