<?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-3864022760987953207</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:42:57.805-05:00</updated><category term='road trip'/><category term='basic training'/><category term='family'/><title type='text'>love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence. -h.l. mencken</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>51</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-4853168092367249901</id><published>2009-04-07T18:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T18:03:15.890-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So basically, I have no idea what's going on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-4853168092367249901?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/4853168092367249901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=4853168092367249901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4853168092367249901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4853168092367249901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-basically-i-have-no-idea-whats-going.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-6525329923266995575</id><published>2009-04-02T19:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T20:01:20.648-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel like we're right back where we started. The communication is better, but it doesn't feel like either of us are putting forth any effort to see each other. I don't feel like we talk, not for real anyway. We talk about movies, what we've been doing (which is kind of personal I guess), other people, but never about us or what we're going to do as a couple for the future. I'm not blaming it on him. In fact, I know that a lot of it's my fault. It's not like I actually try to broach those subjects. I don't know why. As wonderful as it feels to be with him, sometimes it feels like I can't talk to him. I know that's dumb, but it's the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also feeling kind of guilty about not telling certain people about our reopened lines of communication, but at the same time I don't have the time or the patience to listen to all the crap that announcement is going to cause. Right now I just need some time to figure out what I'm doing and what I want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-6525329923266995575?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/6525329923266995575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=6525329923266995575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/6525329923266995575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/6525329923266995575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-feel-like-were-right-back-where-we.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-128422927829496</id><published>2009-03-31T18:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T18:59:10.850-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I guess we're back together. I'm not sure if I consider him my boyfriend. I'm really worried about what's going to happen after I graduate. I have no idea where I'm going to be, and if I'm far enough away I know a relationship with him won't last. So now I'm second-guessing my decision to give it another shot because I'm not sure if it will be worth it in the long run. I broke my heart of my own accord the first go 'round. I don't think I can handle it being broken on account of the same situation again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-128422927829496?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/128422927829496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=128422927829496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/128422927829496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/128422927829496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-guess-were-back-together.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-5461851280328993736</id><published>2009-03-22T19:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T19:37:33.532-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I watched a movie with him yesterday. It was the first time in 3 1/2 months that I've done anything one-on-one with him. I've been forbidden to get back together with him by certain people, but I still like him and even though I didn't even let him kiss me, it was really easy to remember why. I actually had a good time, including the unintentional nap I took with him. I don't know what's going to happen or if I want anything to happen at all. I told him that I wasn't going to set myself up for anything and that I refused to be a friend with benefits. And I think he understands that if he really wants to try this again that he's going to have to work for it, but I'm not sure if I believe he has/can change/d. It's all overwhelming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's my other situation. I think it's coming to a close though. I haven't talked to or seen him in a week. But I've been expecting it so it's not a big deal. Besides, nothing good could come of it anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-5461851280328993736?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/5461851280328993736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=5461851280328993736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/5461851280328993736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/5461851280328993736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-watched-movie-with-him-yesterday.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-3022609251505286328</id><published>2009-03-22T12:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T12:17:41.993-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I want a love like Johnny and June.&lt;br /&gt;Rings of fire, burning with you.&lt;br /&gt;I want to walk the line, walk the line&lt;br /&gt;Until the end of time.&lt;br /&gt;I want to love,&lt;br /&gt;Love you that much,&lt;br /&gt;Cash it all in,&lt;br /&gt;Give it all up.&lt;br /&gt;And when you gone I want to go, too,&lt;br /&gt;Like Johnny and June.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-3022609251505286328?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/3022609251505286328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=3022609251505286328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3022609251505286328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3022609251505286328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-want-love-like-johnny-and-june.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-8526130484676177609</id><published>2009-03-21T23:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T23:03:49.548-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know what I want anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-8526130484676177609?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/8526130484676177609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=8526130484676177609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/8526130484676177609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/8526130484676177609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-dont-know-what-i-want-anymore.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-3218661976206476591</id><published>2009-03-13T13:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T13:19:17.527-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This semester has had absolutely no sense of normalcy whatsoever. Prof is gone. The yearbook is overwhelming because I have no advisory help. Spanish is getting on my last nerve, mainly because I'm taking too many at once. We're not having a symposium or a prom. I have no idea what I'm going to do when I graduate. I have no one to help me look for jobs. I'm getting attached to people that I'm going to lose when I graduate. I'm pretty much terrified that I'm not going to be able to do what I've always wanted to, that I'm going to be single forever because I'm not worthy of love, that I'm never going to be truly happy. I don't want to be an adult.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-3218661976206476591?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/3218661976206476591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=3218661976206476591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3218661976206476591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3218661976206476591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-semester-has-had-absolutely-no.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-4128788481221177557</id><published>2008-12-09T18:45:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T18:47:08.725-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So the tears are pretty much gone. The hardest part was actually going through with it. But he wanted to hang out this afternoon, and I went over there and stayed all afternoon with him because I'm stupid. I guess this is him trying. I don't know. I don't want to not be with him, but if things are the way they were I can't continue to be with him. I'm still single and it's not like we'll be back together tomorrow. But at least it's not completely finished.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-4128788481221177557?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/4128788481221177557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=4128788481221177557' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4128788481221177557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4128788481221177557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-tears-are-pretty-much-gone.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-6604142156508373506</id><published>2008-12-08T18:46:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T18:48:38.079-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I bit the bullet. I  broke up with him. And it hurts more than I imagined. Who knew doing the right thing could be heart-breaking?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-6604142156508373506?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/6604142156508373506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=6604142156508373506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/6604142156508373506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/6604142156508373506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-i-bit-bullet.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2153498592067348548</id><published>2008-12-07T12:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T12:20:36.591-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I always forget I have this, which would account for the reason why I haven't posted since April. But I've come to the conclusion that sometimes I want to write without everyone I know seeing it. Because only one friend of mine knows I have this, and she doesn't use it anymore...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe I've been dating the same guy for almost eight months and that I'm considering breaking up with him. Not because he's a bad person.  Not because he doesn't make me happy,  because he makes me very happy...when we're together, which isn't often. He always has homework or has to study or falls asleep because he's been doing homework or studying, so we don't ever spend any time together. And he lives a ten minute walk away from me. I've been toying with the breakup idea for a while now but just haven't been able to bring myself to any action that would result in me breaking my own heart. The truth is, I don't know what to do. But I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only person in this relationship who gives a damn about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2153498592067348548?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2153498592067348548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2153498592067348548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2153498592067348548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2153498592067348548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-always-forget-i-have-this-which-would.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-3328002480178886213</id><published>2008-04-27T19:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T19:29:57.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So you know how it feels when you first get together with someone? How happy you are, but also how attentive you are to every little detail about your "relationship" with that person? How when people who may or may not know about the two of you make random comments about the person that happen to show the person in a negative light you don't necessarily believe the comments but it sticks in the back of your mind? It's one of those things you can't avoid because you like the person and want to be with them and you want to find out whether you like him on your own, not based on the comments of others. Yeah...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-3328002480178886213?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/3328002480178886213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=3328002480178886213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3328002480178886213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3328002480178886213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2008/04/so-you-know-how-it-feels-when-you-first.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2938639734439862204</id><published>2008-04-16T23:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T23:45:39.611-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i haven't done this in a while which is very surprising considering the amount of stuff i've had on my mind here lately...well the truth is, i'm not sure i could even put all the things running through my head into words. there's just so much going on. sometimes i feel like i'm going crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this semester is almost over, 2 more weeks. then i'll be a senior in college and starting my summer internship and only 2 semesters left of school. i don't think anyone other than myself could grasp the fears, the doubts, the excitement running through my mind all at once. i'm so ready for this semester to end; it's been so stressful, but now that the close of the semester is actually drawing close i find myself wishing it wasn't all happening so fast. i can't believe i've been in college for 3 years. i've made some amazing friends and the closer to graduation i get, the closer i get to all of us being split up. and i know that true friendship can handle that, but it's scary you know? i'm about to be out in the real world...i'll be the first of our group of friends to graduate, followed very closely by stephanie. i'm not ready to be a grown-up. not yet anyway. it's a scary concept. i'm not ready for my time in this town to be over. it's become like my home. but at the same time that i'm feeling so self-conscious about my ability to succeed after graduation, i'm actually really excited to be embarking on such an incredible journey - life. i'm only 21 years old. still so young. i have my whole life ahead of me. i just wish it would slow down a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then, of course, there's the whole deal with my internship this summer. getting all the details worked out for that was extremely stressful. summer fees are ridiculously high, but luckily i got something worked out with the director of the department so that i can actually afford everything. my internship is actually the one thing i'm looking forward to more than anything right now. i'm going to be doing a little bit of everything - writing, layout, some advertising, and even some event planning. the only downfall is that it's unpaid so i'm going to have to find a job so i won't be completely broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not even going to get into my love life. let's just say that it's nonexistant right now. there's this guy who i thought liked me but it's been an entire semester and he just asked someone else for my number a couple of weeks ago...but he hasn't done anything with my number. so i don't know what's going on there. i would date him if only he asked. i mean, he's smart, good-looking, and he makes me laugh. can't go wrong there, right? but so far absolutely nothing has happened, and it honestly doesn't look like anything ever will. oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the other guy (you should know who) has actually started back acting normally around me again. you have no idea how big of a relief it is...although sometimes he gets a little too friendly. actually, last week was really bad in regards to that. by the end of the week i was so frustrated with the situation and didn't know what i should do about it that i kind of had a meltdown, for which i apologize to anyone who walked into it. it's just really hard to be friends with a guy you were once involved with and still have feelings for. i mean, i'll always have feelings for him. much as i don't want to, i love the kid. but no one has to worry. i'm not going to do anything about those feelings. it would be so easy to fall back into it though (if he didn't have a girlfriend, that is), especially now that things are so much better between us. by him being so "friendly" towards me, it keeps reminding me of why i liked him and wanted to be with him in the first place. then add to that the fact that he has a girlfriend, a.k.a. guilt on my part...hence the major frustration of last week. but don't worry. it's all better. we're friends, nothing more. and i seriously doubt anything else will come of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2938639734439862204?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2938639734439862204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2938639734439862204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2938639734439862204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2938639734439862204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-havent-done-this-in-while-which-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-1567539245338582034</id><published>2008-02-26T22:21:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T22:28:23.642-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So he's finally acting normally again. And I'm so glad because it would break my heart if I lost him as a friend. I still like him. I'm still attracted to him. But he's still with her, and I've gotten to know her and she's become one of my friends. Things aren't going well with them. But if they do break up I don't know what will happen. I don't know what I feel, what I want. I just don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody would say I'm crazy, an idiot. But I can't help it. I thought I was over it, but I guess not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's the other one. I thought there might be something there but he's never around enough for anything to develop. Basically I've just given up hope on him...and the rumors I've been hearing aren't too comforting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm just going to be single for a while. I don't particularly like it, especially since I always feel like a fifth wheel or whatnot. But it's not all bad. At least I'm not dating someone who's in a fraternity that rules his life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-1567539245338582034?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/1567539245338582034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=1567539245338582034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/1567539245338582034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/1567539245338582034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2008/02/so-hes-finally-acting-normally-again_26.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-1802168336505653565</id><published>2008-02-26T22:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T22:24:00.624-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So he's finally acting normally again. And I'm so glad because it would break my heart if I lost him as a friend. I still like him. I'm still attracted to him. But he's still with her, and I've gotten to know her and she's become one of my friends. Things aren't going well with them. But if they do break up I don't know what will happen. I don't know what I feel, what I want. I just don't know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-1802168336505653565?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/1802168336505653565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=1802168336505653565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/1802168336505653565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/1802168336505653565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2008/02/so-hes-finally-acting-normally-again.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-1041220792381549817</id><published>2008-01-04T21:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T21:58:30.335-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I found out that my ex has been telling people we slept together. Now if somebody actually had the guts to ask me about it, I wouldn't deny it. I'm not ashamed of it. I don't regret it. It wasn't supposed to happen, no. But it did. And I won't run away from the truth of it. But it's no one else's business and he has no right to tell other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know whether to confront him about it. If I do it could solve the problem or make it worse. He's already angry with me, and if I add fuel to that anger it could cause him to tell more people than he already has and it eventually get back to my family. And that would be disastrous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't regret it, but I wish it had never happened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-1041220792381549817?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/1041220792381549817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=1041220792381549817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/1041220792381549817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/1041220792381549817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2008/01/so-i-found-out-that-my-ex-has-been.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-4764108136676110421</id><published>2007-12-29T16:34:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T16:38:54.396-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I decided not to work over the break. Just really didn't feel like going back into all that mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love life just might get interesting once school starts back. It has the potential to anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going back home in a week. Exactly a week. At least that's what I plan on. Classes start on the ninth. All my classes are extremely early this time. 8:00 and 8:30. Every day. And none after lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now all I need to do is find an internship.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-4764108136676110421?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/4764108136676110421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=4764108136676110421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4764108136676110421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4764108136676110421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-decided-not-to-work-over-break.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-5108163633170022040</id><published>2007-12-13T16:31:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T16:31:33.080-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>so i don't think i'm going to work over the break.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-5108163633170022040?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/5108163633170022040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=5108163633170022040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/5108163633170022040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/5108163633170022040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/12/so-i-dont-think-im-going-to-work-over.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-3795905018660232325</id><published>2007-12-10T16:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T16:10:54.706-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it's always winter but never christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;I can't believe this semester is 2 days from being over! It's gone by entirely too fast. I feel like I've gotten nothing accomplished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am ready for it to be finished. The past few weeks have just been stressful. I could use a break, even though it's probably going to spent working. Something I definitely am not looking forward to. I don't know what to do about work. The way my parents have been talking, I don't want to get in that mess. But then mama will be like, well I don't know what's happening there. SO QUIT TALKING ABOUT HOW BAD IT'S GOTTEN!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-3795905018660232325?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/3795905018660232325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=3795905018660232325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3795905018660232325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3795905018660232325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/12/its-always-winter-but-never-christmas.html' title='it&apos;s always winter but never christmas'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-747213066871561661</id><published>2007-12-06T22:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T22:27:11.371-06:00</updated><title type='text'>make your decision, and don't you dare think twice.</title><content type='html'>so i think i'm being paranoid. maybe it's just issues with being together so much the past few weeks. things will be better after the break. and if not, well then it's not meant to be. right? right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh and before i forget, i realized last night that right now [other than being attracted to jason] i have no romantic aspirations towards anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is it too much to ask to meet a nice guy? wait. i should be more specific. a nice guy who wants to be with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-747213066871561661?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/747213066871561661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=747213066871561661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/747213066871561661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/747213066871561661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/12/make-your-decision-and-dont-you-dare.html' title='make your decision, and don&apos;t you dare think twice.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-4600546866550936607</id><published>2007-12-05T20:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T20:57:02.556-06:00</updated><title type='text'>you tell me that you need me, then you go and cut me down.</title><content type='html'>there is so much tension. and it all is centered around one person. now, this person is my friend. one of my best friends. and normally i don't get annoyed or angry or anything with the petty bitchy things she does. but here lately she has been getting on my last nerve. so be warned. this is definitely a venting blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;last week was my twenty first birthday. it wasn't very exciting at all. in fact, i didn't celebrate. wednesday night my friend called me and asked me to share a fishbowl with her. so i did. no problem. then we went to a bar. i had a few drinks. we left. i came home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the next morning i was sick. but this was not a hangover. coincidentally, i had gotten a virus or something of that sort. at the very most someone could have put something in my drink. anyway the point is that it was not alcohol poisoning. so my roommate took me to the emergency room because i could not stop throwing up. my mom drove all the way up here and took me home. i ended up being put on an iv and getting a shot of finigrin and fluids because i was severely dehydrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i went home on thursday and didn't come back until sunday. well friday we were supposed to go out to eat and then ice skating. but of course since i was sick and not in town it didn't happen. well one of my friends went anyway with another couple. ok no big deal. but when we all got back together on monday to actually go she decided that she just wanted to eat. so no ice skating for my birthday this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i find out last night that someone [i don't know who] has said that i was "sick" just to get attention. that bothers me slightly. but since i don't know who said it there is nothing i can do about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then today at lunch was just awkward. i don't even know how to explain it. and i'm not really going to worry about it. because i know i'm not doing anything wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but here's the thing. sometimes i feel like i can't even be friends with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;him &lt;/span&gt;because of her. like he's her property. and she's not his girlfriend or anything like that. i know i like him. and i know she knows i like him. i wish she didn't know. because i know that if anything bad ever happens between the two of us it will be because of her. things are fine between us right now. we're not together. but just because you love someone does not mean you have to be involved with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just have a bad feeling. you know. i feel like something is about to explode. and i feel like in some way i'm a part of it. even though for once i haven't done anything to warrant being the center of other people's drama.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-4600546866550936607?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/4600546866550936607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=4600546866550936607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4600546866550936607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4600546866550936607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/12/you-tell-me-that-you-need-me-then-you.html' title='you tell me that you need me, then you go and cut me down.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-8321713993911374815</id><published>2007-11-18T15:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T15:59:53.354-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll do everything you ever dreamed to be complete.</title><content type='html'>The party last night was so much fun =] I had a blast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0CzVDL9wRI/AAAAAAAAAEI/bNVAaHVgfKw/s1600-h/me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0CzVDL9wRI/AAAAAAAAAEI/bNVAaHVgfKw/s320/me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134300749416481042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Monarcas before the party&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0CzizL9wSI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/kmf-KqBA9qc/s1600-h/me2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0CzizL9wSI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/kmf-KqBA9qc/s320/me2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134300985639682338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying not to fall down the stairs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0Cy_zL9wPI/AAAAAAAAAD4/9eJg1Pvt954/s1600-h/jello+shots2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0Cy_zL9wPI/AAAAAAAAAD4/9eJg1Pvt954/s320/jello+shots2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134300384344260850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jello shots =]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0CzxTL9wTI/AAAAAAAAAEY/CWCqL26N768/s1600-h/me+grady.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0CzxTL9wTI/AAAAAAAAAEY/CWCqL26N768/s320/me+grady.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134301234747785522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lovely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0C0mjL9wUI/AAAAAAAAAEg/QAlD99l7Sik/s1600-h/me+julianne.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0C0mjL9wUI/AAAAAAAAAEg/QAlD99l7Sik/s320/me+julianne.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134302149575819586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Julianne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0C1BzL9wVI/AAAAAAAAAEo/jCx7tkL5vhg/s1600-h/me+julianne+mary.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0C1BzL9wVI/AAAAAAAAAEo/jCx7tkL5vhg/s320/me+julianne+mary.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134302617727254866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, Julianne, and Mary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0CzIjL9wQI/AAAAAAAAAEA/WvNPuvtIa7A/s1600-h/julianne,+jj,+me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0CzIjL9wQI/AAAAAAAAAEA/WvNPuvtIa7A/s320/julianne,+jj,+me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134300534668116226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julianne, JJ, and me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0C1QTL9wXI/AAAAAAAAAE0/KiVqhWLO13c/s1600-h/wow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0C1QTL9wXI/AAAAAAAAAE0/KiVqhWLO13c/s320/wow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134302866835358066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grady is such a pimp lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0C1qTL9wYI/AAAAAAAAAE8/NkgdQ6zljoQ/s1600-h/me4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0C1qTL9wYI/AAAAAAAAAE8/NkgdQ6zljoQ/s320/me4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134303313511956866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Showing off all my lovely artwork...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-8321713993911374815?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/8321713993911374815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=8321713993911374815' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/8321713993911374815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/8321713993911374815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/11/ill-do-everything-you-ever-dreamed-to.html' title='I&apos;ll do everything you ever dreamed to be complete.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/R0CzVDL9wRI/AAAAAAAAAEI/bNVAaHVgfKw/s72-c/me.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-4649452735375571226</id><published>2007-11-16T20:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T20:24:25.691-06:00</updated><title type='text'>She want that lovey-dovey, that kiss kiss</title><content type='html'>So I've had nightmares about the party tomorrow...and I really hope they're not premonition-type dreams because if there's going to be drama regarding my lovely situation...well, I'd kind of like to know about it beforehand. The dream I had about it last night though...well, it wasn't a nightmare. It was actually a good dream, but if it really happens (and I don't think it will) the shit will definitely hit the fan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-4649452735375571226?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/4649452735375571226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=4649452735375571226' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4649452735375571226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4649452735375571226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/11/she-want-that-lovey-dovey-that-kiss.html' title='She want that lovey-dovey, that kiss kiss'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-1427675698213280266</id><published>2007-11-15T15:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T16:06:43.130-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Now I'm heels over head, I'm hanging upside down, Thinking how you left me for dead, California-bound...</title><content type='html'>Now when you hit the coast, I hope you think of me, And how I'm stuck here with the ghost, Of what we used to be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This week has been exceptionally good.&lt;/span&gt; I can't believe I actually said that,  but it really has been a good week other than Stephanie breaking her wrist last night. Monday was great. The only thing to make Tuesday less-than-great was the Palladium meeting, but even that wasn't terrible enough to dispel the almost &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;movie-esque&lt;/span&gt; quality of the rest of the week. Yesterday was good...especially lunch, but I don't feel like elaborating. And today, my Spanish presentation was postponed until after Thanksgiving. The only thing about today is that I haven't seen Jason...which isn't unusual, but I've seen him every other day this week so it's kind of weird not to have randomly seen him today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, as far as that situation goes...things aren't really any better. They're not bad. I mean, he's definitely doing a lot more subtle things as far as I'm concerned...but then &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;she &lt;/span&gt;is still in the picture. It's not like it's even all that big a deal. It's not like they're technically/officially together. Pretty much, according to the general consensus and the insight of my mother, he's just with her for sex...and he knows that I'm not a "friends with benefits" kind of girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know...it's almost as if he's afraid to get involved with me. Like he thinks that by pushing me away or  not doing anything with me he'll save me heartbreak if something were to happen to him. And if that's the case, then he's stupid. Whether we're together or not, I'm attached to him and it would kill me if he died. I've thought long and hard about his illness...and I've decided that it doesn't matter. I'm ok with it. Sure, it scares the hell out of me, but I think if he'd give it a chance the time we spend(t) together would be completely worth it...I just don't know how to make him understand that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah...pretty much everybody knows we like each other. Or at least they all think we should sleep together and get it over with. Apparently there's a lot of tension whenever we're together, in the same room, in the same vicinity...maybe that's why &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;she&lt;/span&gt; doesn't like me. The only question left to be answered in this screwed up situation is whether he'll stop being stupid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-1427675698213280266?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/1427675698213280266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=1427675698213280266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/1427675698213280266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/1427675698213280266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/11/now-im-heels-over-head-im-hanging.html' title='Now I&apos;m heels over head, I&apos;m hanging upside down, Thinking how you left me for dead, California-bound...'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-6348776346157464140</id><published>2007-11-13T22:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T22:28:28.072-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We were meant to live for so much more but we lost ourselves.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So yesterday was a really good day. I haven't been in that good a mood in so long...and nothing extremely out of the ordinary happened. I slept way late, but it was amazing. Then I went out to lunch with Jason, and he actually paid. Then we went to GameStop and Radio Shack and to the House of Many. Basically, we spent a good chunk of the afternoon together. It was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then last night we had a movie night in Julianne's room. Me, Stephanie, Grady, Riley, and Julianne. We watched The Condemned, which was actually a good movie. I had my doubts, all centered around Stone Cold Steve Austin, but it had a really good plot line and the wrestling moves weren't too corny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, unfortunately, it was back to work. Spanish was pretty much a joke this morning, but at least I got an easy A. Lunch was entertaining, though nothing special. Creative writing was actually my favorite part of the day. I usually get pretty bored in there, but not today. Mr. O was in rare form...you just had to be there. Editing wasn't bad today. He didn't lecture for once. All we had to do was write headlines to fit certain areas...which was easy for me. I've been doing that for years. Then I had my section meeting which ran right into the staff meeting for the Palladium...which meant I missed dinner and had to go to the Trojan Center because I'm broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and don't forget that I'm trying to memorize a Spanish presentation for Thursday on top of all that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-6348776346157464140?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/6348776346157464140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=6348776346157464140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/6348776346157464140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/6348776346157464140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/11/we-were-meant-to-live-for-so-much-more.html' title='We were meant to live for so much more but we lost ourselves.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-3140452805481118110</id><published>2007-11-10T23:28:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T23:28:17.961-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm getting really good at lying to myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;too bad I never believe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why does he have to smile at me that way?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Give all to love; obey thy heart.&lt;br /&gt;-Ralph Waldo Emerson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so much easier said than done&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-3140452805481118110?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/3140452805481118110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=3140452805481118110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3140452805481118110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3140452805481118110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/11/im-getting-really-good-at-lying-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2679622759312165048</id><published>2007-11-10T11:37:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T11:39:32.644-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Now I've had the time of my life, and I owe it all to you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why does he have to be so sweet and smile at me that way? It gives me this funny feeling. It's almost as if he knows I can't resist it, and it's messing with my head something awful. I don't want to like him. I know it's really not worth my time, and I know that he's with someone else... but every time he looks at me that way or smiles at me or shows some sort of attention to me... I melt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2679622759312165048?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2679622759312165048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2679622759312165048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2679622759312165048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2679622759312165048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/11/now-ive-had-time-of-my-life-and-i-owe.html' title='Now I&apos;ve had the time of my life, and I owe it all to you.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2839847857635639980</id><published>2007-11-07T22:12:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T22:16:49.680-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ok, so I'm not bragging or anything but one day my camera might actually pay my way. I went out today and took a lot of random pictures. I had a purpose to the randomness of my actions, though. I had this idea for my section of the Palladium where the background was like a montage of pictures. My goal is for the backgrounds of the pages to look as if someone found a shoebox of pictures and dumped them on the ground. Anyway, the pictures I took today were really good, if I do say so myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I was going to upload some of my favorites, but it's not cooperating with me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2839847857635639980?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2839847857635639980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2839847857635639980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2839847857635639980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2839847857635639980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/11/ok-so-im-not-bragging-or-anything-but.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2660367441339963833</id><published>2007-11-05T13:29:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T13:31:54.261-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/Ry9vRaiVTVI/AAAAAAAAADw/_56GFiUSGUE/s1600-h/me,+julianne,+stephanie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/Ry9vRaiVTVI/AAAAAAAAADw/_56GFiUSGUE/s320/me,+julianne,+stephanie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129440845570067794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, Julianne, and Stephanie at the band party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back on that night, I've realized that while "fun" is not the best word to describe my experience, it really wasn't all that bad. Overall it was a good experience...there were just a few incidents that soured my mood. Hopefully I'll have more pictures soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2660367441339963833?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2660367441339963833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2660367441339963833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2660367441339963833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2660367441339963833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/11/me-julianne-and-stephanie-at-band-party.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/Ry9vRaiVTVI/AAAAAAAAADw/_56GFiUSGUE/s72-c/me,+julianne,+stephanie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2832470669878557957</id><published>2007-11-01T11:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T11:39:16.077-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hold me like you held onto life. Love me like you love the sun.</title><content type='html'>So last night was fun-ish. The party itself wasn't all that great...the auction was entertaining. The company wasn't all bad though...even if I did get exposed to something I really did not want to see. It didn't help that it was a certain person, but I honestly wouldn't want to see it with anyone else either. But Stephanie and I talked for a long time last night and I've come to the realization that it's not worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2832470669878557957?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2832470669878557957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2832470669878557957' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2832470669878557957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2832470669878557957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/11/hold-me-like-you-held-onto-life-love-me.html' title='Hold me like you held onto life. Love me like you love the sun.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-3208636694791699750</id><published>2007-10-31T19:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T19:48:07.207-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Well I never saw it coming, shoulda started running a long, long time ago.</title><content type='html'>So I'm going to the band halloween party in a little while. I'm sad that I can't use my costume from trick or tke, but this one isn't terrible. It's actually really cute. Julianne wore it our freshman year, so I'm just borrowing. It's quick and easy. People are probably going to steal my tail all night though. I'm going as a cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...they broke up, or rather they're "taking a break." I don't know what that means for me. Stephanie asked if we were going to get back together, and I honestly don't know. The one guy I could actually fall for again...but is it worth the risk?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-3208636694791699750?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/3208636694791699750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=3208636694791699750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3208636694791699750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3208636694791699750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/well-i-never-saw-it-coming-shoulda.html' title='Well I never saw it coming, shoulda started running a long, long time ago.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2087340499509155051</id><published>2007-10-30T18:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T18:56:31.348-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If your body matches what your eyes can do, you'll probably move right through me on my way to you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RyfCMwKE5CI/AAAAAAAAADQ/BEcX2Vt-2Dw/s1600-h/heaven.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RyfCMwKE5CI/AAAAAAAAADQ/BEcX2Vt-2Dw/s320/heaven.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127280225125983266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RyfCZwKE5DI/AAAAAAAAADY/jPJ92TKCo6Y/s1600-h/hell+and+death.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RyfCZwKE5DI/AAAAAAAAADY/jPJ92TKCo6Y/s320/hell+and+death.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127280448464282674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Trick or TKE was fun...not as awkward as I was afraid it would be. I went as Heaven and my friend, Julianne, went as Hell. That's her boyfriend in the picture with her...we decided that he was Death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RyfCywKE5EI/AAAAAAAAADg/rG6zIOQVrzA/s1600-h/cold.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RyfCywKE5EI/AAAAAAAAADg/rG6zIOQVrzA/s320/cold.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127280877961012290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RyfC9QKE5FI/AAAAAAAAADo/VirIXvPh5t8/s1600-h/me,+alisha,+leslie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RyfC9QKE5FI/AAAAAAAAADo/VirIXvPh5t8/s320/me,+alisha,+leslie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127281058349638738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate, Stephanie, went as the Devil's Temptress. See her horns? Unfortunately, the Anti-Christ, a.k.a. JR, was in Arkansas that weekend. Alisha (she's in the middle) went as a Hooter's girl, and it's safe to say that she was the hit of the party. Leslie (on the right) was Mother Earth, hence the leaves in her hair and the leaf drawn on her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to dress up again tomorrow for the band party, but I don't know how that's going to turn out. I won't have all the make-up I used for Trick or TKE, and my counterpart won't even be wearing her costume because she has to go to work first and it most definitely is not proper work attire. So we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Now on to other things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love-life is pretty much at a standstill right now, but that's ok. I don't really have any prospects and I'm not really looking. It's not like I want a boyfriend anyway. Scratch that...it would be nice to have a boyfriend, but right now I don't really have time for one. Not to mention the fact that I don't stand a snowball's chance in hell with the person I want to be with. That might not be a bad thing though, and I've almost come to terms with it. That's not to say I don't still want to be with him...it's just a little easier to bear the knowledge that it may not be meant to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2087340499509155051?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2087340499509155051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2087340499509155051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2087340499509155051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2087340499509155051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/if-your-body-matches-what-your-eyes-can.html' title='If your body matches what your eyes can do, you&apos;ll probably move right through me on my way to you.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RyfCMwKE5CI/AAAAAAAAADQ/BEcX2Vt-2Dw/s72-c/heaven.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-6004251494152050402</id><published>2007-10-27T22:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T22:34:18.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer.</title><content type='html'>So, a giant monkey wrench has been thrown into my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have no idea what it means, much less what to do about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-6004251494152050402?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/6004251494152050402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=6004251494152050402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/6004251494152050402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/6004251494152050402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/your-voice-was-soundtrack-of-my-summer.html' title='Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-5080299990949746907</id><published>2007-10-25T15:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T15:24:15.275-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So there's this boy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I've got to admit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's got my attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bottom line:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If he wants me, I'm his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-5080299990949746907?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/5080299990949746907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=5080299990949746907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/5080299990949746907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/5080299990949746907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/so-theres-this-boy.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-4234627698624774421</id><published>2007-10-24T11:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T11:23:36.207-05:00</updated><title type='text'>First time that I saw your eyes, boy you looked right through me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If you can't get someone out of your head, then maybe they're supposed to be there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--but what if they don't know that? What then? Are we supposed to spend our days thinking about that person constantly, wondering if he even knows?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-4234627698624774421?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/4234627698624774421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=4234627698624774421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4234627698624774421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4234627698624774421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/first-time-that-i-saw-your-eyes-boy-you.html' title='First time that I saw your eyes, boy you looked right through me.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2268832211690064806</id><published>2007-10-22T14:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T14:42:46.309-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She got them apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club lookin' at her.</title><content type='html'>So I had a disturbing dream last night. It was like my senior year was happening all over again...only with my college friends. For the most part I don't give a rat's ass what people think about me, but with this it's different. I lost a lot of friends when it happened and my reputation was ruined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scary part is, now that I actually think about it, that my current situation is very similar to that time. Actually, the only difference is that this time I actually like the guy. Last time, he was my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in reality nothing is wrong, but my dream really freaked me out. I don't want that rumor to start again in a new place. I would never under any circumstances try to take somebody else's guy...but I know from experience that the truth doesn't mean anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2268832211690064806?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2268832211690064806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2268832211690064806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2268832211690064806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2268832211690064806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/she-got-them-apple-bottom-jeans-boots.html' title='She got them apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club lookin&apos; at her.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-3350420810803527856</id><published>2007-10-19T22:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T23:08:51.822-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am so glad this week is over...well except for tomorrow, but I'm not stressed about it. This is the one thing I actually wanted to go to. I have to admit that the dance competition wasn't that bad...just really loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've pretty much adopted an "I don't give a damn" attitude about everything here lately. If it's not school, work, or family related...I'm not putting that much effort into it. I don't know. This week has just been so stressful. I feel like I haven't had time to breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah. Whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-3350420810803527856?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/3350420810803527856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=3350420810803527856' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3350420810803527856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3350420810803527856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-am-so-glad-this-week-is-over.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2574733130087756787</id><published>2007-10-17T22:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T22:47:04.960-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The best things in life are &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;illegal&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;immoral&lt;/span&gt;, or &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fattening&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2574733130087756787?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2574733130087756787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2574733130087756787' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2574733130087756787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2574733130087756787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/best-things-in-life-are-illegal-immoral.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-8652273348241235445</id><published>2007-10-17T11:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T11:04:05.147-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"When your worries come true, you simply dwell in reality, and numbness forms, acting as a symptom of anger, disbelief, and hurt."   -Erin Warde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never heard it put that way before reading my friend's essay, but I must say that I agree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-8652273348241235445?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/8652273348241235445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=8652273348241235445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/8652273348241235445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/8652273348241235445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/when-your-worries-come-true-you-simply.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-4738749578672696306</id><published>2007-10-16T22:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T22:47:30.281-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Never give up on someone you can't go a day without thinking about."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---That's really hard to do, especially when all you want to do is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;stop&lt;/span&gt; thinking about someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my dad was put in the hospital this morning. Add that to the mountain of stress I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't cry, at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here lately I've felt like crying almost every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to go to sleep and not wake up until everything is better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today.&lt;br /&gt;-James Dean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-4738749578672696306?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/4738749578672696306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=4738749578672696306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4738749578672696306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4738749578672696306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/fairy-tales-dont-always-have-happy.html' title='Fairy tales don&apos;t always have a happy ending, do they?'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-9022556127626787432</id><published>2007-10-15T22:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T22:27:08.395-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't understand, but when do I ever?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent an hour together...a whole hour. An hour that he could have easily opted out of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet...there's another girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-9022556127626787432?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/9022556127626787432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=9022556127626787432' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/9022556127626787432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/9022556127626787432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-dont-understand-but-when-do-i-ever-we.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2656892800794589500</id><published>2007-10-14T23:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T00:12:58.942-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Who said that it's better to have loved and lost? I wish that I had never loved at all.</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking a lot here lately...about everything. Sometimes I don't think I should be left alone with my thoughts. I have way too many, and it's impossible for me to turn them off. I guess that's why I started writing, but that's besides the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've been thinking...about relationships. I don't mean romantic relationships alone. I've been thinking about all my relationships...those with family, friends, and even significant others. And all this thinking has brought forth a lot of musings...and I still don't have all the answers needed to satisfy those musings...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, I had this friend...and she sold all of us out for her boyfriend. Now don't get me wrong, I don't know the guy so I can't criticize him...but is it healthy for a person to completely change who they are because of a relationship? Now I have no doubt in my mind that some day farther down the road, my former friend will wake up and realize all the damage she's done. It may be relatively soon or it may be in the distant future, but she will come to that realization. The really sad part about this situation, however, is the fact that all of us have already started to move on as if she were never really a part of our lives...which has led me to wonder, if a person is so easily forgotten, were they ever really that important in your life to begin with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I've got this problem where I can't get a person out of my mind. It's not necessarily a bad thing because I know that I like this person, but things are definitely not to my liking. This guy is really important to me, and I don't mean that in a romantic way. He's a really close friend of mine...and when I say close, I mean close. Things have happened between us that no one else knows, and I intend to keep it that way. I can't explain why I like him. In all actuality, I probably shouldn't...but you can't help who you like...you're not supposed to, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to talk to my brother this afternoon for a long time. And then afterwards my mom and I talked...she's like my conscious. Seriously. Anyway, we were talking about how my brother and I grew up together and were basically twins. We're not, by the way. Anyway, that got me to thinking about when he moved out and pretty much destroyed my life...my relationship with my brother went from unbelievably strong to almost non-existent and now it's building back to what we used to have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is such a funny thing. You think you've got everything, and then something happens to take it all away...and then, when you least expect it, everything starts to fall into place again. It's like one big circle. What goes around, comes around...but in this circle of life, do we ever truly get what we want? Do we ever really find happiness? Or is happiness just something we've created in our minds to help us get through the unreality we've created for ourselves?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2656892800794589500?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2656892800794589500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2656892800794589500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2656892800794589500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2656892800794589500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/who-said-that-its-better-to-have-loved.html' title='Who said that it&apos;s better to have loved and lost? I wish that I had never loved at all.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2351456581621275073</id><published>2007-10-14T13:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-14T19:05:55.124-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Maybe if I tell myself I'm over it enough times, one day it will be true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I feel like a hero&lt;br /&gt;And you are my heroine.&lt;br /&gt;Do you know that your love&lt;br /&gt;Is the sweetest sin?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe things aren't quite as bad as they seem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I just needed to get away from everything, give myself time to think, talk with my mom, and just generally &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;breathe&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things aren't necessarily better, but they're not worse which I guess is a blessing in itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to talk to my brother today for a long time. I really miss him, but I know that he's doing great things. I'm so proud of him I could burst.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2351456581621275073?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2351456581621275073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2351456581621275073' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2351456581621275073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2351456581621275073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/maybe-if-i-tell-myself-im-over-it.html' title=''/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-2485324934752042764</id><published>2007-10-13T20:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-13T20:25:41.657-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to get away. I want to fly away.</title><content type='html'>And the drama continues...just in another form. If it's not one thing, it's another, and quite frankly I'm getting sick of it. I'm tired of being pulled into the middle of situations that I have no control over. I'm tired of being made to look like a bad person. I'm tired of being talked about in conjunction with another person even though there is nothing going on. I'm just tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I decided to go home for a couple of days. Sometimes just getting away from it all is the best medicine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know though. In one situation I've just decided to give up...again. I have no idea what's going on and I'm pretty sure I won't figure it out any time soon, and if what I've been hearing is true then it's not worth my time anyway. I don't feel like explaining what that means. Let's just say that I like someone, who in all appearances likes me, but...I don't even know. I don't see the problem, if there even is one. Whatever. I don't care anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, yeah, so that's a lie but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then that stupid situation...just leave me out of it. I don't need the frustration, the strain on friendships. Just stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like that'll ever happen, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so tired of drama, but I'm not naive enough to think that it will ever completely go away. I know my problems seem so small in comparison with others, but these "small" problems deal with my heart and my friendships...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess it's safe to say that although they don't mean a hill of beans in the grand scheme of things, the lines that I'm walking on are very narrow and when I fall the direction of that fall will be life-changing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-2485324934752042764?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/2485324934752042764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=2485324934752042764' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2485324934752042764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/2485324934752042764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-want-to-get-away-i-want-to-fly-away.html' title='I want to get away. I want to fly away.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-6048843822638022758</id><published>2007-10-11T21:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T21:52:51.697-05:00</updated><title type='text'>These are the best days of our lives</title><content type='html'>We went to the Alabama National Fair today. It was a lot of fun. =]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/Rw7gxqvwmeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/MYPQ-zbcfm8/s1600-h/alabama+national+fair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/Rw7gxqvwmeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/MYPQ-zbcfm8/s320/alabama+national+fair.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120276970259651042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A birds-eye view from the very top of the ferris wheel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/Rw7hIKvwmfI/AAAAAAAAADE/C-SrYAwi1fY/s1600-h/freckled+lemonade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/Rw7hIKvwmfI/AAAAAAAAADE/C-SrYAwi1fY/s320/freckled+lemonade.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120277356806707698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red Robin's freckled lemonade is amazing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-6048843822638022758?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/6048843822638022758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=6048843822638022758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/6048843822638022758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/6048843822638022758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/these-are-best-days-of-our-lives.html' title='These are the best days of our lives'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/Rw7gxqvwmeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/MYPQ-zbcfm8/s72-c/alabama+national+fair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-4845975300114855677</id><published>2007-10-09T21:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T21:20:11.636-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You've got this silly way of keeping me on the edge of my seat.</title><content type='html'>I don't know what I'm doing...what I'm getting myself into.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're not supposed to help who you like, so why am I so worried?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been able to see myself being with someone indefinitely, but now I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it scares me...not because it's my future we're talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But because of something else. Something so much deeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want this, more than I've wanted anything in a very long time, but there's no way for it not to end in heartache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question is not whether or not I want it because I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question is whether or not I'm willing to risk everything more than I already have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-4845975300114855677?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/4845975300114855677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=4845975300114855677' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4845975300114855677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4845975300114855677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/youve-got-this-silly-way-of-keeping-me.html' title='You&apos;ve got this silly way of keeping me on the edge of my seat.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-8594635234798002130</id><published>2007-10-07T22:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T22:54:39.066-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We're soaring. Flying. There's not a star in heaven that we can't reach.</title><content type='html'>I don't understand guys...especially the ones I call my friends...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate was dating this guy (well, kind of anyway) and people were talking about it constantly because he's bisexual and she is definitely straight. Anyway, all of his fraternity brothers were pleased that he finally found a girl...well, their joy has been short-lived because not long ago this guy told my roommate that he preferred men to women [he's not gay though] and that he didn't consider the two of them to be dating. So that pretty much ended it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So since all this has happened, what rights to jealousy does this guy have? I mean, it's not like the two of them were anything special. The most intimate thing they did was kiss...and that doesn't mean anything. They weren't exclusive. They didn't sleep together. And according to him, they were never dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes jealousy is a good thing. It has been in my case here lately. It's let me know that the guy I'm interested in is interested in me (or at least that's how I interpret it).  But in this case, it's completely pointless. The way I see it, this guy doesn't want her, but he doesn't want anyone else to have her either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have no idea how this works to his advantage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-8594635234798002130?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/8594635234798002130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=8594635234798002130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/8594635234798002130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/8594635234798002130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/were-soaring-flying-theres-not-star-in.html' title='We&apos;re soaring. Flying. There&apos;s not a star in heaven that we can&apos;t reach.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-7632906903597349260</id><published>2007-10-06T12:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T13:05:53.891-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And I know I'll be ok though my skies are turning gray</title><content type='html'>so confusion reigns once more...he had backed off a lot, and when I say a lot I mean that it was noticeable to other people. I don't know what the deal was...but he's been over 2 nights this week (to play Halo, of course) and stayed til well past midnight. The first night we were playing Mortal Kombat and he didn't leave til after 1:00 and the second night he stayed after everyone else had left from playing Halo and we watched some stand-up thing Bob Saget did (you should watch it, it's different...) and didn't leave til 2:30. So...yeah. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for my little problem...haven't seen or heard from him since Wednesday so maybe it's just magically gone away. That would be awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as for the situation that I'm afraid of...well, it hasn't gotten any better. He called me last night, but luckily I was in Olive Garden with friends and couldn't really talk. I suppose I should call him back sometime today...he sounded a little down over the phone, but there's really no telling with him. I'm just not really in any hurry to put myself into a situation that could so easily make things in my life go badly...not that I'm saying it would, but still. It almost feels like I'm helping him cheat, even though the only thing that's been going on is talking on the phone...pretty much every day. So yeah. I still don't know what to do about him. I'm thinking about doing the whole bowling thing though...but I'll probably take reinforcements. A few of my friends showed interest in going so that could be a plan, and I think I'll try to get him to bring his girlfriend...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-7632906903597349260?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/7632906903597349260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=7632906903597349260' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/7632906903597349260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/7632906903597349260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/and-i-know-ill-be-ok-though-my-skies.html' title='And I know I&apos;ll be ok though my skies are turning gray'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-3828191128978444101</id><published>2007-10-03T21:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T21:21:27.944-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm jumping in the crowd just to see if they will carry me!</title><content type='html'>So I have myself a small problem...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly though, if everything was left up to me, it wouldn't be a problem. I just have to worry about my family and the small town I'm from. Just because I have no problem with it whatsoever doesn't mean that the problems those around me would have with it won't affect my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yeah...it's a problem...but not really...because despite all the problems it would cause, I'm rather tempted...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that in itself is a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not like it couldn't be kept quiet...for a while anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. Somehow I know it would just be a casual thing, and I'm not what you'd call a casual kind of girl...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-3828191128978444101?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/3828191128978444101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=3828191128978444101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3828191128978444101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3828191128978444101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-jumping-in-crowd-just-to-see-if-they.html' title='I&apos;m jumping in the crowd just to see if they will carry me!'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-3757907416933349794</id><published>2007-10-02T23:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T23:37:11.429-05:00</updated><title type='text'>But double standards of suspicion are relevant, oh my blue heaven..sometimes it just feels better to give in.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I'm afraid...of a certain situation. I don't think anything bad will happen...no, not really. I just have no idea what he wants. At all. He has a girlfriend. He's talked about his girlfriend to me. I've even talked to him about who I'm interested in. True, I exaggerated a little bit to cover my ass...but again, I don't know what he wants. He says he wants for us to hang out...play tennis...go bowling. He even offered to drive to my hometown and pick me up for said bowling trip. I'm trying really hard to not read too much into this situation...but I'm apprehensive about it. And the dream doesn't help at all. It totally freaked me out, and I know that it's partly influencing my mixed emotions. It took me a long time to get over this kid. A really long time, and every now and then I still feel touches of the same emotions I felt when we were together. He was the best thing that's happened to me in a long time, and you don't just forget something like that...but I'm not in any hurry to do anything with him anytime soon. I don't know. I would feel so much better about this whole thing if I knew what his motive was...if he even has any. He's a really nice guy, one of the few that are left out there, so in all actuality it's probably just a friendship thing. We have known each other for a long time...I just don't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-3757907416933349794?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/3757907416933349794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=3757907416933349794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3757907416933349794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/3757907416933349794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/but-double-standards-of-suspicion-are.html' title='But double standards of suspicion are relevant, oh my blue heaven..sometimes it just feels better to give in.'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-7005141607763731926</id><published>2007-10-02T15:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T15:36:15.522-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Two roads diverged into a wood...</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I really don't understand people, and I certainly don't understand why they do the things they do. But I think that for the most part, that's how most of society wants things to be. I mean, let's face it...a person is chased after more when there's a certain sense of mystery about them. When you know everything about a person up-front, it takes all the fun out of getting to know them...but still. Having some basic knowledge of a person would really make it easier to understand why they act the way they act, i.e. do the things they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, a friend of mine recently made the decision that she couldn't be a girlfriend and friend at the same time. I guess I should call her my former friend then, huh? Anyway. Out of our entire group of friends, I never would have thought that this girl in particular would sell all of us out...especially for a guy. I mean, when it comes down to it, it's never a question of having to choose between your boyfriend and your friends. You make concessions. True, it makes it a lot harder to be in a relationship with someone if your friends don't like him, but your true friends would never turn their back on you just because you're dating someone they disapprove of. They may not support the relationship, but they do support you. And let's face it, when you never introduce your friends to your boyfriend (a five minute run-in does not count as meeting!), it causes things to be strained. I, for one, want my friends to meet whomever it is I happen to be dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this former friend of mine has basically thrown the friendship of a very tightly knit group of girls out the window...all for some guy that she barely ever sees but thinks she loves. Ok, so that was a little mean. She may, in fact, love him. Who am I to judge...but love is based off of a relationship, and I don't understand how the two of them have a relationship when they never see each other. Yes, long-distance relationships can work...if the couple has a past they can base it on. But long-distance relationships are almost always destined to fail if the relationship is long-distance from the get-go...and I know this from experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not knocking her relationship with this guy. In fact, I wish her all the happiness in the world, and as long as she's happy then I'm happy for her. I guess all I'm trying to say is that I don't understand what's happened to her. She's changed so much since last year...and while some of the changes aren't bad, overall when you add them all together she hasn't changed for the better. I'll always love her and don't want anything bad to happen to her...I just don't understand how she could just walk out of our friendship so easily.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-7005141607763731926?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/7005141607763731926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=7005141607763731926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/7005141607763731926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/7005141607763731926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/two-roads-diverged-into-wood.html' title='Two roads diverged into a wood...'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3864022760987953207.post-4268876646850235741</id><published>2007-10-01T10:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T14:22:29.941-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='basic training'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='road trip'/><title type='text'>Road Trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I just spent an entire week in South Carolina with side trips to North Carolina and Virginia. My brother just graduated from basic training at Fort Jackson so my fam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;ily made the 6 hour trip up there to see him. Then we made another 6 hour trip to Virginia to take him to AIT at Fort Eustis (it's near Virginia Beach). Then we drove two hours into North Carolina and spent the night and on Sunday we drove 10 hours just to get back to my hometown...then I had to drive two more hours to get back to Troy! So I'm a week behind in all my classes, but &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;getting to see how much my brother has &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;changed for the better was so worth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RwFHk9DCKFI/AAAAAAAAABU/d-t40fz6hh4/s1600-h/perry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RwFHk9DCKFI/AAAAAAAAABU/d-t40fz6hh4/s320/perry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116449351857743954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; This is my brother :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RwFG29DCKEI/AAAAAAAAABM/me2cnV2xV-A/s1600-h/family+day+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RwFG29DCKEI/AAAAAAAAABM/me2cnV2xV-A/s320/family+day+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116448561583761474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;All the soldiers coming onto the field at family day :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RwFIk9DCKGI/AAAAAAAAABc/BdmIRTfI08o/s1600-h/walk+by+5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RwFIk9DCKGI/AAAAAAAAABc/BdmIRTfI08o/s320/walk+by+5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116450451369371746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The final pass by and review&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3864022760987953207-4268876646850235741?l=ashtonking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/feeds/4268876646850235741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3864022760987953207&amp;postID=4268876646850235741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4268876646850235741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3864022760987953207/posts/default/4268876646850235741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashtonking.blogspot.com/2007/10/road-trip.html' title='Road Trip'/><author><name>Ashton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778245869416076087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/ScbaL8n8z4I/AAAAAAAAAIg/4sN8kbKYafY/S220/l_c30596552f294a0fbf5371b6d81cd32c.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmJr8NLoXa4/RwFHk9DCKFI/AAAAAAAAABU/d-t40fz6hh4/s72-c/perry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
