<?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-5958772505024745418</id><updated>2011-08-14T10:00:22.491-04:00</updated><category term='Chapel'/><category term='dark'/><category term='fundraiser'/><category term='mood'/><category term='dad'/><category term='frog'/><category term='ornaments'/><category term='die'/><category term='greek'/><category term='Owl City'/><category term='tired'/><category term='bug'/><category term='wedding'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='Clare'/><category term='pop can'/><category term='new'/><category term='relationships'/><category term='art'/><category term='boat'/><category term='Narnia'/><category term='lyrics'/><category term='hair'/><category term='home'/><category term='room'/><category term='toilet paper'/><category term='reconstruct'/><category term='morning'/><category term='Higher One'/><category term='guitar'/><category term='work'/><category term='engaged'/><category term='humor'/><category term='door'/><category term='ministry'/><category term='babysitting'/><category term='God'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='realization'/><category term='isaiah'/><category term='poop'/><category term='fall'/><category term='school'/><category term='brave'/><category term='links'/><category term='camp'/><category term='decisions'/><category term='Monday'/><category term='adventure'/><category term='beauty school'/><category term='cold'/><category term='ann arbor'/><category term='fire'/><category term='sunshine'/><category term='palm'/><category term='pain'/><category term='busy'/><category term='epic'/><category term='flowers'/><category term='project'/><category term='Lewis'/><category term='love'/><category term='group building'/><category term='forget'/><category term='MacBook'/><category term='songs'/><category term='TFK'/><category term='list'/><category term='accomplish'/><category term='engraved'/><category term='change'/><category term='strawberry pie'/><category term='embarassing moments'/><category term='help'/><category term='phone call'/><category term='homework'/><category term='define'/><category term='gifts'/><category term='water'/><category term='Spring Arbor'/><category term='frozen'/><category term='bad day'/><category term='computer'/><category term='Mastercard'/><category term='Psalm 51'/><category term='sewing'/><category term='driving'/><category term='pipes'/><category term='owls'/><category term='whining'/><category term='car'/><category term='Father'/><category term='embarassing'/><category term='first day'/><category term='soup'/><category term='art fair'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='stencils'/><category term='Cara'/><category term='garage'/><category term='camp blog'/><category term='break'/><category term='awkward'/><category term='tire'/><category term='opinions'/><category term='coasters'/><category term='crafts'/><category term='life'/><category term='conflict'/><category term='knitting'/><category term='Mountain Dew'/><category term='goldfish'/><category term='Pinkie Pie'/><category term='food'/><category term='Jamin'/><category term='career'/><category term='Becca'/><category term='snow'/><category term='paintball'/><category term='money'/><title type='text'>Define: Awkward</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>108</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7959481710623793659</id><published>2010-07-21T18:24:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T18:41:58.187-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='art'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ann arbor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='art fair'/><title type='text'>Define: Art</title><content type='html'>Blogger informs me that my last post was March 1.  Has it really been that long?&lt;br /&gt;Oops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm over halfway into my program at Douglas J now, which is really scary.  November seems so far away, but it seems like January just happened, so I know it's going to be here before I know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next week I'll be out at camp, I am so pumped!  I'll be working with Explorers (my favorite age group) and I can't wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week is the Ann Arbor Art Fair.  Lots of tents with people trying to sell things, lots of roads closed, all that kind of fun stuff.  I ride a bus into the downtown area, so it's not that bad for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always cut through an alley and a parking lot to get over to school from where the bus drops me off, and I've never really had a problem.  Today, I was walking through the alley, texting, when I slipped.  I almost fell, and honestly, my first thought was, "I just stepped in someone's vomit."  While it may not be likely, it's at least possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked down (quickly, because I knew there were people behind me), and, fortunately, it was not vomit.  Unfortunately, it was a giant glob of pale green, hot orange, and tan paint.  And it now coated my black shoe, and got all over the bottom of my black pants.  Lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A girl from my class was walking behind me (not close enough to see what had happened), but I asked if she saw the paint when she walked through, and she said, "Yeah, were those your footprints?"  Yes, yes they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I walked back through after school, I was both pleased and displeased to see that other people had stepped in it.  Nice to know that I'm not the only one who didn't see it, but it might have been neat to be the only one.  I can definitely still tell which footprints are mine, so it's not all bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and the text I was writing when it happened?&lt;br /&gt;"I already don't like the art fair."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.&lt;br /&gt;If anyone knows how to get paint out of clothing...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7959481710623793659?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7959481710623793659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7959481710623793659' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7959481710623793659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7959481710623793659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/07/define-art.html' title='Define: Art'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-537178427362385555</id><published>2010-03-01T21:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T21:57:12.349-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jamin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spring Arbor'/><title type='text'>Define: Little Things</title><content type='html'>This morning started out awesome.  I woke up feeling pretty awake, the sun was out, I listened to some good music while I got ready...it was nice.  Then the little things started to pile up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way to babysit, I called my doctor's office to try to get an appointment.  I asked for one with Lou-Ann, only to have the receptionist tell me that she hasn't been there since August (can you tell how often I go to the doctor?).  I did get an appointment with Dr. Conant, but it's going to be weird.  I like having a girl doctor.  Ergh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babysitting was overall alright, though there were a few moments where I felt overwhelmed.  One was when Jack came up to me and said, "I got pee pee on the carpet."  Thank goodness he just meant the rug in the bathroom, because I was picturing a big wet spot in the middle of the living room or something.  Another was just the amount of spit-up from Ben today.  It was incredible.  I think he saved some from the bottle before the one I gave him to get on me.  Overall though, it really wasn't a bad day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove out to Spring Arbor to see friends, but when I got there, everyone was in class.  I decided to go across the street to McDonald's to get a fruit and yogurt parfait (sooooo good).  As I started to pull out onto M-60, my car sputtered and died.  I turned it back on, only to have the same thing happen.  I put it in neutral and fortunately it rolled back a few feet out of the intersection.  But I still freaked out.  I called everyone, but everyone was in class.  Jamin (my hero) came out of his class to help me, and as he was walking up his friend Andy was pulling up behind me, so he helped too.  (strike)We(/strike) They pushed the car into the church parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, did I mention that RIGHT before this happened I filled up my gas tank?  Not. Happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told my brother I'd probably need to borrow his car, and he was cool with that.  My dad came out and took a look at my car (I missed seeing him, which was the last little thing that I could handle), and he couldn't get it started, so it got towed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a small cry on the way home, but I took a shower and made some macaroni and cheese, and I'm feeling better.  Tomorrow will be better.  If only because I am driving a much nicer car.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-537178427362385555?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/537178427362385555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=537178427362385555' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/537178427362385555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/537178427362385555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/03/define-little-things.html' title='Define: Little Things'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7452266996920042945</id><published>2010-02-28T23:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T23:13:50.638-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clare'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fundraiser'/><title type='text'>Define: Fundraiser</title><content type='html'>My friend Clare has the opportunity to go to Madagascar this summer to shadow some missionaries, and she needs to raise a lot of money!  She's selling flowers and plants from &lt;a href="http://www.flowerpowerfundraising.com/campaign?campaign_id=1789"&gt;this website&lt;/a&gt;, so if you need any, give her some help!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7452266996920042945?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7452266996920042945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7452266996920042945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7452266996920042945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7452266996920042945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/02/define-fundraiser.html' title='Define: Fundraiser'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2097740961367151337</id><published>2010-02-28T17:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T17:50:21.363-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jamin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair'/><title type='text'>Define: Men's Haircut</title><content type='html'>Before (okay, about a month before, but you get the idea):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S4ry2YM93lI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/NJXgCFPrrxE/s1600-h/DSC06445_2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S4ry2YM93lI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/NJXgCFPrrxE/s320/DSC06445_2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443430115654360658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S4rzFqDCeEI/AAAAAAAAAOY/0YACW1fAM00/s1600-h/DSC06588.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S4rzFqDCeEI/AAAAAAAAAOY/0YACW1fAM00/s320/DSC06588.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443430378142595138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2097740961367151337?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2097740961367151337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2097740961367151337' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2097740961367151337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2097740961367151337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/02/define-mens-haircut.html' title='Define: Men&apos;s Haircut'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S4ry2YM93lI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/NJXgCFPrrxE/s72-c/DSC06445_2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1358463174079264838</id><published>2010-02-14T16:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T16:31:36.897-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty school'/><title type='text'>Define: Round Layers</title><content type='html'>Before:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S3hqVhwvbgI/AAAAAAAAAN4/o7n5YqUQnzY/s1600-h/0213000957.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S3hqVhwvbgI/AAAAAAAAAN4/o7n5YqUQnzY/s320/0213000957.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438213468122476034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S3hrmQvDW-I/AAAAAAAAAOI/Mof0dakDIow/s1600-h/DSC06574.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S3hrmQvDW-I/AAAAAAAAAOI/Mof0dakDIow/s320/DSC06574.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438214855121394658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S3hrlyJB7rI/AAAAAAAAAOA/kCwC0nBI83I/s1600-h/DSC06573.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S3hrlyJB7rI/AAAAAAAAAOA/kCwC0nBI83I/s320/DSC06573.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438214846908853938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1358463174079264838?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1358463174079264838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1358463174079264838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1358463174079264838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1358463174079264838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/02/define-round-layers.html' title='Define: Round Layers'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S3hqVhwvbgI/AAAAAAAAAN4/o7n5YqUQnzY/s72-c/0213000957.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-3513220933654505688</id><published>2010-02-01T18:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T18:44:05.379-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tire'/><title type='text'>Define: Stupid Car</title><content type='html'>Last night, when I went to leave Spring Arbor, my car wouldn't start.  The battery wasn't dead, lights were coming on, but it refused to turn over.  I don't know anything about cars, I was tired, and it was cold.  The situation quickly reduced me to tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, Jamin managed to get it started, and I came back to Chelsea.  On the way I stopped and put air in one of my tires (I need to do it once every week or so, it's got a slow leak).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier today I went out to try to start my car (to make sure that it would start again, because I don't know what Jamin did to get it to work), and I saw that the tire I had put air in less than 12 hours before was totally flat.&lt;br /&gt;Lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad is planning to bring out a new tire, thank goodness, but I still just hate this stupid car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-3513220933654505688?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/3513220933654505688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=3513220933654505688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3513220933654505688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3513220933654505688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/02/define-stupid-car.html' title='Define: Stupid Car'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-899252789067920689</id><published>2010-01-31T14:29:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T14:38:15.773-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty school'/><title type='text'>Define: (Real) Haircut</title><content type='html'>I did my first real haircut yesterday.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S2XasiJ8Y_I/AAAAAAAAANY/G7M_tnQz9kY/s1600-h/DSC06495.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S2XasiJ8Y_I/AAAAAAAAANY/G7M_tnQz9kY/s320/DSC06495.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432988984109982706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S2XbfznxBqI/AAAAAAAAANo/vDRLozSD_QE/s1600-h/DSC06498.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S2XbfznxBqI/AAAAAAAAANo/vDRLozSD_QE/s320/DSC06498.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432989864971798178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S2XbfHSXN3I/AAAAAAAAANg/wTTtjH6n1xA/s1600-h/DSC06496.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S2XbfHSXN3I/AAAAAAAAANg/wTTtjH6n1xA/s320/DSC06496.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432989853070866290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S2Xb838Y84I/AAAAAAAAANw/9x7P6hEF4zc/s1600-h/DSC06500.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S2Xb838Y84I/AAAAAAAAANw/9x7P6hEF4zc/s320/DSC06500.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432990364348248962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-899252789067920689?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/899252789067920689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=899252789067920689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/899252789067920689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/899252789067920689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/01/define-real-haircut.html' title='Define: (Real) Haircut'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S2XasiJ8Y_I/AAAAAAAAANY/G7M_tnQz9kY/s72-c/DSC06495.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-6886604882887397346</id><published>2010-01-28T20:33:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T20:42:23.880-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frozen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pipes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='garage'/><title type='text'>Define: Crappy</title><content type='html'>I forgot makeup this morning.  Normally, I don't care, honest.  I typically don't wear makeup, and when I do, it's just mascara, and every once in a while eyeshadow.  But for school, we are supposed to look really nice and such.  Not that you can't look nice without makeup.  But...I felt unprepared.&lt;br /&gt;We did updos (up-dos? updo's? who knows.) today.  I ended up teasing the hair on mine (it was sort of a runway look).  I heard someone say, "Jodi's looks like a rat's nest," quietly enough that I gathered only the person next to her was meant to hear, but it was a little too loud for that.  I naturally turned to look, and when she made eye contact she said, "What are you doing, dear?"  Um, I already heard you say rat's nest, please don't "dear" me.  Later she said something about it looking runway style, but I was still kind of upset.  I think she was trying to make up for saying that, though I'm not sure if she knows I heard her.  I mean, we're all learning, that's why we're there, meanie.&lt;br /&gt;On the way home, I remembered that I forgot to shut the garage door when I left this morning, so the pipes were all frozen.  One burst (thankfully the one for the outside water, but still...).  We're almost back to normal, but I still feel horrible.  I'm glad that the pipes freezing is all that happened, though, someone could have just walked in and robbed the house!  Needless to say, I will be paying much more attention to that when I leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess my day wasn't super bad.  The worst thing was leaving the door open.  The others weren't that bad, some were so not bad that I'm not even writing them because they sound so stupid to be whining about.  Which I suppose means that I shouldn't let them dictate my mood.  So here's to a better day tomorrow.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-6886604882887397346?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/6886604882887397346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=6886604882887397346' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6886604882887397346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6886604882887397346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/01/define-crappy.html' title='Define: Crappy'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4311045953141043660</id><published>2010-01-26T18:17:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T18:38:39.398-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty school'/><title type='text'>Define: Haircut</title><content type='html'>I gave my mannequin a haircut today!  I don't have any before pictures, but here are a couple afters.&lt;br /&gt;(Sorry about the low quality, they're from my phone.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S195Ji560gI/AAAAAAAAANQ/B8Cs6WInQjQ/s1600-h/downsize_6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S195Ji560gI/AAAAAAAAANQ/B8Cs6WInQjQ/s320/downsize_6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431192880527626754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S195JMVRv7I/AAAAAAAAANI/tmaUx4rpfw0/s1600-h/downsize_5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S195JMVRv7I/AAAAAAAAANI/tmaUx4rpfw0/s320/downsize_5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431192874468360114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be cutting a real person's hair on Saturday!  I'm kind of nervous (but not really, because the haircut we're doing isn't that hard), but really excited!  It'll be either &lt;a href="http://thefinerpointofarandomlife.blogspot.com/"&gt;Erin&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://clarefleminguganda.blogspot.com"&gt;Clare&lt;/a&gt;.  I hope they're ready... :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4311045953141043660?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4311045953141043660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4311045953141043660' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4311045953141043660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4311045953141043660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/01/define-haircut.html' title='Define: Haircut'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S195Ji560gI/AAAAAAAAANQ/B8Cs6WInQjQ/s72-c/downsize_6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8734378728746229484</id><published>2010-01-17T21:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T21:30:48.685-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new'/><title type='text'>Define: New School</title><content type='html'>I started beauty school on Tuesday, at the &lt;a href="http://www.douglasj.com/"&gt;Douglas J Aveda Institute&lt;/a&gt; in Ann Arbor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first day was horrible.&lt;br /&gt;I was overwhelmed with all the things they gave us (two huge boxes of stuff), the new place, the new people.  I ended up eating lunch alone in the classroom when everyone else left.  I had to carry one of the super heavy boxes all the way to my car, so by the time I got there I was exhausted.  You know how when you do something that's just too much for your muscles, and they're just all shaky?  That's how my arms were when I got to the car.  It was bad.&lt;br /&gt;Halfway home I started crying, and continued to do so all the way there (did I mention I'd had a headache all day?).  When I got there, I carried the box inside, but while I was walking through the kitchen, I smashed my finger on the corner of the counter (since the box was so wide) and dropped the  box.  My finger was all bloody, and I started crying all over again.&lt;br /&gt;Later in the day I started to feel nauseous, still with the headache.  I did not want to go back at all.&lt;br /&gt;But I did.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm so glad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each day has been progressively better.  Yesterday some of my classmates asked if I wanted to carpool with them.  :)&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we also practiced shampooing and blowdrying each others hair, and I have been practicing on others as well.  It makes me feel cool.  :)&lt;br /&gt;I'm really excited about how this is going to go.  I know that I'm going to have bad days, and days where I'm going to doubt myself and have a hard time, but I feel really great about this right now, and I just have to remember how much I really do enjoy what I'm learning when I'm going through a rough time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8734378728746229484?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8734378728746229484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8734378728746229484' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8734378728746229484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8734378728746229484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/01/define-new-school.html' title='Define: New School'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7728650317398177085</id><published>2010-01-08T12:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T12:38:46.901-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='driving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snow'/><title type='text'>Define: Snow Day</title><content type='html'>When I got up to brush the snow off of my car this morning, there was a lot of it.  But school wasn't cancelled in Chelsea, and I saw someone's Facebook status that said the back roads weren't that good, but the highway was fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seemed that some of the roads I took to get to I-94 hadn't even been plowed, but they weren't horrible, and when I got on 94, I could see all the pavement in both lanes.  It looked like everybody was doing alright, so I slowly accelerated to 50-55.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if I turned the wheel a little bit, or braked a little (I don't think I did either of those things), but the car started sliding, and all the things I tried to do to fix it only made it worse.  I started to slide off of the road sideways, then back into the other lane, and I'm not gonna lie, I freaked out.  That was the first time I have ever not felt in control of the car while I've been driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hadn't even made it to the first exit before that happened, and after I got straightened out, I was having trouble accelerating, the engine was just revving (black ice, I guess?  I'm not sure if the problem was the road or my car.).  I pulled off on the first exit and took back roads back home (really slowly, probably much to the agitation of the people behind me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it makes sense that my parents were worried when it was snowy and we were out driving.  I have to say, I always thought they were overreacting a little.  I've never had any problems like that, and I think I'm a pretty good driver (no accidents, no tickets, etc.).  But that was a really frightening experience, and it didn't have anything to do with me being unsafe or taking risks, it just happened.  I'm glad that there weren't any cars near mine when it happened, and I'm really glad I was able to make it back home safely.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7728650317398177085?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7728650317398177085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7728650317398177085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7728650317398177085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7728650317398177085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/01/define-snow-day.html' title='Define: Snow Day'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1691740660972268497</id><published>2010-01-04T13:38:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T13:59:43.537-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sewing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty school'/><title type='text'>Define: New Year</title><content type='html'>I start beauty school in one week.  Yikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This also means I won't be at camp this summer.  I think that's one of the hardest things about it, but I don't have any good reasons to put it off until August, except that I just really really really want to work at camp.  I think this is probably the smarter way to go, though, even if it's not the way I'd prefer.  It would be really great to start now, take 3 month summer break from June to August (which just happens to be camp time), and then start again.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting a little nervous.  When I signed up, it didn't look like there were a lot of other people signed up yet.  I don't know if I'd prefer a small class or a big one.  A small one might be a better learning environment, but a big one would give me a bigger chance of making a friends.&lt;br /&gt;One of the scariest things in my mind is going to be lunchtime.  This is probably a totally irrational fear, I know, but what if it's like the movies where the girl walks into the cafeteria and no one wants her to sit with them and she has to sit all alone?  I'm almost positive that's not going to happen, but still.  Or what if everyone goes out to eat except for me?&lt;br /&gt;I have got to make my brain shut up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I had it in my head that when I started beauty school I'd become this awesome fashionista.  I don't know why, but I'm realizing that the chances of that happening are pretty slim.  But a girl can dream, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope I'm good at beauty school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked up a &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lotta-Jansdotters-Simple-Sewing-How/dp/0811852571"&gt;sewing book&lt;/a&gt; last time I was at Borders, so I've started on that.  I think what persuaded me to choose this book were the fabrics used for the projects.  I'm not good at picking colors and designs that go together well, and I forgot when I was looking at it that I would still be the one that had to choose the fabrics, they wouldn't be cute all by themselves.  Oops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, for my first project, I think I did pretty well picking out matching fabrics.  And I think I did pretty well sewing it for a beginner.  It's not perfect at all, but It doesn't have any major flaws (that I can see, anyway).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S0I3nIfOFZI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0_z8rRnlN3A/s1600-h/DSC06345.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S0I3nIfOFZI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0_z8rRnlN3A/s320/DSC06345.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422958046740354450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided that I wanted to put something extra on, so I found some hand embroidery designs I like and sewed those on.  There's one on each side of the bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S0I3nuL5PHI/AAAAAAAAAM4/OcT18CeHJgE/s1600-h/DSC06344.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S0I3nuL5PHI/AAAAAAAAAM4/OcT18CeHJgE/s320/DSC06344.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422958056859843698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the other side:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S0I3oMKhEdI/AAAAAAAAANA/l-orfK2dVqk/s1600-h/DSC06343.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S0I3oMKhEdI/AAAAAAAAANA/l-orfK2dVqk/s320/DSC06343.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422958064907129298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty proud of it.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1691740660972268497?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1691740660972268497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1691740660972268497' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1691740660972268497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1691740660972268497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2010/01/define-new-year.html' title='Define: New Year'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/S0I3nIfOFZI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0_z8rRnlN3A/s72-c/DSC06345.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-6585646835292368761</id><published>2009-12-15T22:34:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T22:43:49.905-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coasters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gifts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ornaments'/><title type='text'>Define: Crafting</title><content type='html'>I've been up to some crafting lately.  I found a neat (and cheap!) way to make your own coasters &lt;a href="http://www.urbanthreads.com/pages?id=286"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  I love that site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are a few I've made as gifts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhWFHHDYRI/AAAAAAAAAMA/AhipEg8mBgQ/s1600-h/DSC06305.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhWFHHDYRI/AAAAAAAAAMA/AhipEg8mBgQ/s320/DSC06305.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415673197720985874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ink got a little smeared on this one when I put the varnish on.  I used stamps instead of printing out a design.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhWW4XTaqI/AAAAAAAAAMI/5GUuMCT7VBA/s1600-h/DSC06307.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhWW4XTaqI/AAAAAAAAAMI/5GUuMCT7VBA/s320/DSC06307.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415673503000259234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhWkAK_THI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/0LFjh0BZMUc/s1600-h/DSC06311.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhWkAK_THI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/0LFjh0BZMUc/s320/DSC06311.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415673728434392178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I started on some clear ornaments.  I only etched and used glitter today, but I think I'll try some other things tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhW7PbLQdI/AAAAAAAAAMY/2XeN2psFDrc/s1600-h/DSC06314.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhW7PbLQdI/AAAAAAAAAMY/2XeN2psFDrc/s320/DSC06314.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415674127665807826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhXDQSkK0I/AAAAAAAAAMg/CEtL0rJ0xV4/s1600-h/DSC06317.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhXDQSkK0I/AAAAAAAAAMg/CEtL0rJ0xV4/s320/DSC06317.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415674265337080642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhXNah_G0I/AAAAAAAAAMo/jSD1uwfv8mM/s1600-h/DSC06320.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhXNah_G0I/AAAAAAAAAMo/jSD1uwfv8mM/s320/DSC06320.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415674439884806978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-6585646835292368761?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/6585646835292368761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=6585646835292368761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6585646835292368761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6585646835292368761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/12/define-crafting.html' title='Define: Crafting'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SyhWFHHDYRI/AAAAAAAAAMA/AhipEg8mBgQ/s72-c/DSC06305.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-685139336676984132</id><published>2009-12-06T23:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T23:34:39.672-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clare'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engaged'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Becca'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='phone call'/><title type='text'>Define: (not) Engaged</title><content type='html'>Today I saw on Facebook that my friend Kristen from camp was engaged.  I called Becca to tell her, but she was in the middle of Bible study, so we couldn't really talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A while later, while I'm instant messaging with Jamin, he tells me that his RA just came in and asked if he was engaged, and said that Taylor (Jamin's friend) had told him that he was.  We were both really confused as to why Taylor would just say that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes ago, Becca called me, laughing, and said, "We have a story to tell you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'd called, Clare had heard "engaged."  After Bible study, she asked Becca who had called, and Becca said, "Jodi."&lt;br /&gt;See where this is going?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clare was really excited, and when she saw Taylor, told him the good news.  Taylor in turn told Jake, Jamin's RA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clare, meanwhile, can't figure out why Becca isn't really excited.  She asks Becca how it happened.  Becca is confused.&lt;br /&gt;Then they figure out what happened, and go to tell Taylor and Jake (but it's too late).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my friends.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-685139336676984132?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/685139336676984132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=685139336676984132' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/685139336676984132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/685139336676984132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/12/define-not-engaged.html' title='Define: (not) Engaged'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-6353653950118403969</id><published>2009-10-25T00:29:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T00:40:34.099-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='embarassing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dark'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='door'/><title type='text'>Define: WHAM.</title><content type='html'>I just walked out to the kitchen, but I forgot to take my cell phone or something with me to see (I didn't want to turn the light n cause I think Mallori is sleeping on the couch), so I kind of felt my way to the kitchen door frame.  I finally found the wall, and saw the blinking lights from the wireless router beyond, so I knew I was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moved another step to the right because the wall was still right in front of me, and the light disappeared.  I thought, 'That's weird, the cabinet door must be open or something and it's blocking the light.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I took a step forward and bashed into the sliding door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone shut it, except for the last like, six inches.  Just enough for me to see through it at an angle, but not realize it was nine-tenths of the way shut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brilliant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-6353653950118403969?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/6353653950118403969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=6353653950118403969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6353653950118403969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6353653950118403969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/10/define-wham.html' title='Define: WHAM.'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-5716128144262577828</id><published>2009-10-22T01:03:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T01:31:15.449-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Becca'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pain'/><title type='text'>Define: Nearly Crushed</title><content type='html'>I just looked through my old posts, and saw something about when JD and Becca dropped a boat on me.  I don't think I ever properly told that story.&lt;br /&gt;(I also came across &lt;a href="http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/02/define-embarassment.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;, which I had completely forgotten about and when I remembered, it was hilarious.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last summer, I did the Bible stories for day camps.  One day, the story was about Jesus calming the storm.  I thought it would be cool to have props (as I had been making the other counselors act out the stories), so Todd, JD and I dragged a rowboat over to where I would be telling the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it went really well, I splashed water on the counselors (wind and waves, right?  Just making it more believable.), which they were not thrilled about (not &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; fault it was cold.  Plus I thought the shrieks added to the overall effect.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we were finished, Becca, JD and I went to put the boat back.  At SBC, there's this boat rack thing.  There are two long pieces of wood a few feet off the ground, and the boats are flipped upside down on top of them for storage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My plan was to take the boat out into the water, flip it, and put it up, like you do after you've used it for actual boating.  This was not JD's plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We carried the boat to the rack, but it was backwards.  JD put the nose down and started flipping it over.  I quietly said that I didn't really think this was a good idea, but we braved on.  Until the boat was vertical.  Then I mentioned that it was going to crash over onto the boat rack.  To which JD said someone should go to the other side and lower it down.  Since he and Becca were busy holding the boat, that left me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, again, said I didn't think this was a good idea.  But I went to the other side, and they started tilting the boat towards me.  And just a few seconds in, I knew I could not hold it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Guys, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;guys&lt;/span&gt;, it's too heavy &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;GUYS&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;!"  And then there was a boat falling on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dropped to the ground, but my elbow got crushed between the falling boat and the one already on the rack next to it.  I pushed the boat off, then laid on the ground, cradling my arm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing Becca did was look under the boats and laugh.  She still says, "The boat was falling, and then you were just gone, and I looked underneath and you were laying in the mud."  I can laugh with her now.  At the time...no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I army crawled out from under the boats with one arm, sure that something on the other one was broken.  It bruised immediately, and my whole arm was tingly for days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that is the story of the time my best friend dropped a boat on me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-5716128144262577828?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/5716128144262577828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=5716128144262577828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5716128144262577828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5716128144262577828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/10/define-nearly-crushed.html' title='Define: Nearly Crushed'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7138154475217790944</id><published>2009-10-21T21:47:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T00:56:03.209-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='owls'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Owl City'/><title type='text'>Define: Owl City</title><content type='html'>I made these really cute owls today.  I got the project plan from &lt;a href="http://www.joann.com/static/project/0904/P130251_whoo_loves_you_owl_mobile.pdf"&gt;JoAnn's&lt;/a&gt;.  I wanted to use scrapbook paper, but all of mine is with Becca.  So I used construction paper.  I finally found a few pieces of patterned paper, but none of them really matched the construction paper, so I only ended up making one owl with it.  I still really like them though.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/St-6_aPsNSI/AAAAAAAAAL0/6LGgIu4JdRo/s1600-h/DSC06280.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/St-6_aPsNSI/AAAAAAAAAL0/6LGgIu4JdRo/s320/DSC06280.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395236477152802082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/St-6_D35XTI/AAAAAAAAALs/Hns0jdqeauQ/s1600-h/DSC06279.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/St-6_D35XTI/AAAAAAAAALs/Hns0jdqeauQ/s320/DSC06279.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395236471147420978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Yes, the brown one has awkward tiny feet.  It was the first one I made.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://newfangled.wordpress.com/"&gt;Jamin &lt;/a&gt;introduced me to &lt;a href="http://www.owlcitymusic.com/home.aspx"&gt;Owl City&lt;/a&gt; a while back, and I really like it.  It seems that it's started catching on around here, as a bunch of Facebook statuses have mentioned it, and there's a &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aI4JLa0hbUw"&gt;song &lt;/a&gt;on &lt;a href="http://home.fm/"&gt;Home.fm&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got an appointment at Douglas J. tomorrow to get my registration stuff all figured out.  I'm pretty nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I applied to Kohl's.  I haven't heard anything, but they did sign me up for their e-mail newsletter.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, but I wanted a job...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7138154475217790944?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7138154475217790944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7138154475217790944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7138154475217790944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7138154475217790944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/10/define-owl-city.html' title='Define: Owl City'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/St-6_aPsNSI/AAAAAAAAAL0/6LGgIu4JdRo/s72-c/DSC06280.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-410297891450362466</id><published>2009-10-17T21:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T21:23:42.370-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='brave'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='conflict'/><title type='text'>Define: Courage</title><content type='html'>I have been trying to begin this story for about five minutes, and I just can't think of a good way to do it.  So I'm going to just jump right in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I went to the grocery store with my cousin.  We went through the self-scan line, I paid with a $20 bill, and we left.  On the way back home, we stopped at the bank, and I pulled out the money that was left.  There were three $1 bills.  Which I thought was really weird, because the last time I had looked at the total, it was $11 something, and only one or two things had been scanned after that.  I added up the items, and sure enough, it was off.  Then the last item caught my eye.  A six-pack of Sprite.  Which was not purchased.  Alexis had scanned one bottle of Sprite, and we'd been charged for five more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I am telling you this story: I would never, ever, ever, in a million years think of going back and getting it fixed.  I am terrified of confrontation/disputes/people I don't know/etc.  And if I was forced into it, I would never, never, never ever go alone.&lt;br /&gt;But yesterday, I did both of those things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may seem silly, but I was so proud of myself.  I didn't even freak out and start hyperventilating or anything.  I guess I just decided that paying $4.85 for &lt;i&gt;one bottle&lt;/i&gt; of Sprite was not okay, and I took care of it.  It was glorious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a different note, I had a dream last night that Target had called to tell me I was working from 7 to 10.  About an hour into working, I remembered that they didn't hire me.  Unfortunately, I woke up before I had the chance to go ask them what was going on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-410297891450362466?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/410297891450362466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=410297891450362466' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/410297891450362466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/410297891450362466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/10/define-courage.html' title='Define: Courage'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2965786641306007285</id><published>2009-10-15T20:34:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T20:39:28.902-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='awkward'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><title type='text'>Define: Foot in mouth (I think.  I'm not entirely sure I fully grasp the meaning of that phrase.)</title><content type='html'>I don't know what made me think about it, but today I remembered doing something really stupid at camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning of the summer, one of the counselors told us that his mom had passed away when he was really little, and his dad had remarried.  At family camp, he was pointing out his brother and sister to Becca and I.  Using my fine skills of observation, I pointed out that his siblings had blonde, almost white hair, while his was brown.  "What happened to you?" I asked, having completely forgotten about what he'd said at the beginning of the summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;i&gt;then&lt;/i&gt; I remembered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I apologized profusely, and he didn't act upset, but I'm still not entirely sure if it bothered him.  I felt super bad and embarrassed.  And still do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2965786641306007285?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2965786641306007285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2965786641306007285' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2965786641306007285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2965786641306007285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/10/define-foot-in-mouth-i-think-im-not.html' title='Define: Foot in mouth (I think.  I&apos;m not entirely sure I fully grasp the meaning of that phrase.)'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8547774022574194373</id><published>2009-10-13T20:27:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T20:34:30.069-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pop can'/><title type='text'>Define: Pansy</title><content type='html'>Once when I was little, I had a can of orange pop in the car, and a few minutes after I had opened it, I realized there were smudges of blood where I had touched the window.  Somehow I had sliced my finger opening the pop can.  Since then, they have just freaked me out.  If possible, I ask someone else to open it for me.  Becca and Jamin can testify to this.  I rarely open a can of pop if someone else is around that can do it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, the worst is when I have to do it myself and I've just cut my fingernails.  At least when there's some nail, I can keep most of my finger off of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure that the time I remember cutting myself is the only time I've ever cut myself, but it's weird how those things stick with you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8547774022574194373?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8547774022574194373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8547774022574194373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8547774022574194373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8547774022574194373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/10/define-pansy.html' title='Define: Pansy'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-6494844416426608078</id><published>2009-10-12T15:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T15:13:59.000-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><title type='text'>Define: Moving forward</title><content type='html'>Well, I didn't get the job at Target.  Which, honestly, was a huge blow to my self-esteem.  I mean, I like Target, I think it's a fairly nice store, but it's not THAT great.  And they didn't want my help during their busiest time of the year?  I know that I don't have any retail experience, but how hard would it be to train me?  It made me feel pretty bad.  I know that the interview wasn't spectacular, but I didn't think it was bad, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm still looking for a job.  Bath and Body Works is hiring seasonally, so that's my next stop, then Kohl's, then whatever I find next.  It's nice to have more than one option.  Both of those stores have locations in Jackson and Ann Arbor, so I'll probably apply to both.  I am definitely not opposed to having more than one job.  But I'm afraid that I'll end up with one in Jackson and one in Ann Arbor, and that's no good.  I think I lean a little bit more towards wanting to work in Jackson, since that's closer to Spring Arbor, but I probably have more options in Ann Arbor.  I told my dad last night that I could probably get my old job at Aggie's back really easily, but I am not that desperate.  I hope I will not be that desperate.  Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally called to make an appointment to finish up my registration for beauty school.  I think I've been putting it off because I know that once I sign up, I won't have the option to work at camp this summer, and I don't want to give that up.  I know that I can't work there forever, but part of me still wants to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No word from Higher One yet.  I may ask for an update on how things are going.  As soon as this is resolved, I'm closing my account there.  This whole thing has been ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time to fill out more applications.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-6494844416426608078?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/6494844416426608078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=6494844416426608078' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6494844416426608078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6494844416426608078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/10/define-moving-forward.html' title='Define: Moving forward'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7958824067103352573</id><published>2009-09-16T21:28:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T21:40:44.569-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Higher One'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><title type='text'>Define: Real E-mail</title><content type='html'>Higher One wrote me a real e-mail.  Surprise!  It still had an automated feel to it, but the first sentence sounded very not automated.  When I read it in my head, it could have even been a little annoyed.  But probably not.  But if they are, it's totally okay with me.  Because I am very annoyed with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my last response, I got an e-mail that began with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you for submitting the requested information regarding your dispute. We apologize that we were unable to further investigate your case upon receiving the police report that you faxed. MasterCard required that we submit a new cardholder letter addressing the re-presentment documents in order for us to have any charge back rights on your behalf."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of it was one I'd already gotten, saying I would get provisional credit, they'd look into it, blah blah.  I wrote back, to &lt;strike&gt;bother them into looking at the stuff&lt;/strike&gt; see whether this was actually going to happen, or if it was just another automated e-mail.  I told them I didn't care about the provisional credit, I cared about them investigating.  I received this lovely e-mail back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dear Jodi,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In response to your email sent 09/14/2009, yes your case is going to be investigated further. When we received re-presentment documents relating to this case back from the merchant, MasterCard requires the cardholder, in this case you, to review these documents and supply us with a letter or email addressing the documents in order for us to continue to pursue the case further with the merchant. On 09/14/09 you supplied us with an email addressing these documents, a copy of that email was forwarded to MasterCard in order to continue the chargeback process. You were provided with provisional credit for the disputed transactions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To clarify where you stand with the disputed transactions as of right now. You were given provisional credit, and the re-presentment documents along with your email addressing the documents are now in the process of being presented to the merchant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please let us know if you have any additional questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you,&lt;br /&gt;Higher One&lt;br /&gt;Customer Service"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what I'm getting from this is, if I hadn't bothered them about the police report, they wouldn't have told me that they needed another e-mail from me in order to keep going (and actually they didn't until &lt;i&gt;after&lt;/i&gt; they already had it and I kept bothering them.  Would have been nice to know I was writing something official instead of just whining).  How very nice of them to not want to burden me with writing an e-mail saying "Um, this is wrong."&lt;br /&gt;So thoughtful Higher One, so thoughtful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And note the sentence fragment at the beginning of the second paragraph.  Maybe they should keep my money and hire someone to read the e-mails they send out before they send them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7958824067103352573?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7958824067103352573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7958824067103352573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7958824067103352573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7958824067103352573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/09/define-real-e-mail.html' title='Define: Real E-mail'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-5020457135664800009</id><published>2009-09-14T19:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T19:52:43.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And now for something completely different.</title><content type='html'>I was out walking with Jack today, and after being passed by a few people in cars, I wondered how many of them thought Jack was &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; kid.  The thought had crossed my mind last time we went for a walk, but I didn't think much about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today after we'd been at the park for a few minutes, an elderly couple with their grandkids showed up.  Jack kept wanting to play by them (I think he really wanted to play &lt;i&gt;with&lt;/i&gt; them, but he didn't know how), and the woman started talking to me a little, asking how old he was, telling me how old her grandkids were, etc.  After they'd left the swings, the thought popped into my head again that they might think this was my kid.  And I thought about how people are always thinking I'm like, 16.  And I just knew then that everyone I had passed thought I was an unwed teenage mother who had dropped out of high school.  And this is where I found myself, pushing Jack on the swing while the couple was on the other end of the swings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack: I got a haircut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah?  When?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack: Mama cut it when I was watching MICKEY MOUSE CLUBHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUSE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh, YOUR MOM cut your hair for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack: MICKEY MOOOUUUUUUSE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: That was nice of YOUR MOM to cut your hair for you, wasn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack: I want a snack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well, we could go back and you could have a pretzel, then when YOUR PARENTS get home you could have lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Etc, etc, etc, making sure to double the volume of any words relating to his parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should probably stop worrying about what complete strangers think of me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-5020457135664800009?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/5020457135664800009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=5020457135664800009' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5020457135664800009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5020457135664800009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/09/and-now-for-something-completely.html' title='And now for something completely different.'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4386496787513349618</id><published>2009-09-14T16:01:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T16:17:07.379-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Higher One'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><title type='text'>Define: So beyond angry</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Response (William)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Jodi,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for contacting Customer Service. We have been working to win your dispute case and have received documentation (known as re-presentment documents) from the merchant involved in the transaction. Unfortunately the information that they supplied substantiates their assertion that the charge was valid. Please review these documents to verify your personal information contained with the merchant's re-presentment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have sent you copies of the documents. To access them, please log on to your OneAccount and click on the EasyHelp icon at the bottom right of the page. From there, click on the Support History tab at the top of the page and then on reference number 090821-000375. Your copies will be in the File Attachments section at the bottom of the incident. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Based on the information supplied by the merchant as well as the other available facts, we must deny your dispute. We had initially supplied a provisional credit for the transaction pending the full investigation. At this time, we have debited your OneAccount for the amount that was originally credited and consider the claim a closed item. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We regret that this was the outcome of you case. Should you have any questions, please contact Customer Service by using the phone number on the back of your card. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Higher One&lt;br /&gt;Customer Service&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: Higher One will honor any pre-authorized transfers from your account as well as checks, drafts (or similar instruments) for five business days beyond DATE PROV. CR REVOKED without charging overdraft fees. During this five day period, we will honor those items we would have paid if the provisional credit had not been revoked (debited).&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer (Jodi Eads)&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to continue disputing this charge, I will be faxing in a police report on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jodi Eads&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Response (William)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Jodi Eads, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for contacting Customer Service. We have received the police report you have supplied to us. We have been working to win your dispute case and have received documentation (known as re-presentment documents) from the merchant involved in the transaction. Unfortunately the information that they supplied substantiates their assertion that the charge was valid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have sent you copies of the documents. To access them, please log on to your OneAccount and click on the EasyHelp icon at the bottom right of the page. From there, click on the Support History tab at the top of the page and then on reference number 090821-000375. Your copies will be in the File Attachments section at the bottom of the incident. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Based on the information supplied by the merchant as well as the other available facts, we must deny your dispute. We had initially supplied a provisional credit for the transaction pending the full investigation. At this time, we have debited your OneAccount for the amount that was originally credited and consider the claim a closed item. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We regret that this was the outcome of you case. Should you have any questions, please contact Customer Service by using the phone number on the back of your card. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Higher One&lt;br /&gt;Customer Service&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: Higher One will honor any pre-authorized transfers from your account as well as checks, drafts (or similar instruments) for five business days beyond DATE PROV. CR REVOKED without charging overdraft fees. During this five day period, we will honor those items we would have paid if the provisional credit had not been revoked (debited).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Customer (Jodi Eads)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am extremely frustrated with the way that this case is being handled.  The documents attached from the merchant do not in any way substantiate their assertion that the charge was valid.  The documents have my name and card number, which they were obviously going to have.  The phone numbers and e-mails are not mine, and I have never heard of the shipping company.  I don't even know what they bought.  Other than "We have received the police report you have supplied to us," I just received the word for word same e-mail as the first time, which is no longer relevant to my case.  There are no new documents attached, so I can only assume there is no new information.  There was no reason to deny my claim in the first place, so why it is still denied is beyond me and absolutely ridiculous.  You have obviously NOT been working to win my dispute case, because I did not spend this money.  Maybe $177.41 isn't a lot to you all, but it is to me.  If I'm not going to be getting this money back, I want to know why, because so far there is no information that substantiates the merchant's claim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You also have a typo in your "sorry" e-mail.  "We regret that this was the outcome of youR case."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4386496787513349618?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4386496787513349618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4386496787513349618' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4386496787513349618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4386496787513349618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/09/define-so-beyond-angry.html' title='Define: So beyond angry'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-3347876634059086266</id><published>2009-09-02T20:40:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T21:07:23.950-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='group building'/><title type='text'>Group Building</title><content type='html'>I helped with group building on Monday for a group of teachers, administrators, bus drivers, food service people, etc. from a local school.  It was interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One hard thing was that these people were not campers.  They were not camper sized.  I was stationed at the spider web, where the group needs to go through holes in the web that are not so big.  They're not supposed to touch the sides, but...most of them were just not going to fit without touching.  I had to tell them that I would allow a reasonable amount of touching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attitudes of some people were really frustrating.  There was one guy who was just a jerk.  I don't know if he really didn't want to be there, or he thought he was being funny, or if he's just like that, but he was really hard to work with.  He moved ropes on the spiderweb, asked me if I was making up the rules, was rude, and made inappropriate comments.  A lot of people didn't take it seriously, and didn't care about whether or not they did things the right way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of these people were older, and walking up and down hills in the woods was just not for them.  It wasn't their fault, I don't blame them, but I thought it was weird that the people scheduling group building didn't think about that.  Maybe they did.  But it took a long time for some groups to entirely arrive at stations because there were a few people who were way behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Group building today was a lot better.  These people had great attitudes about it.  I don't know if they wanted to be there, but they acted like they did.  They had fun, they laughed, they took things seriously.  They didn't finish a few activities, but they were so much easier to work with than the groups on Monday, and I was glad to get to work with a group like that after the other one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something I've realized lately: groups do not listen to me during group building.  I don't know if I have a voice that doesn't carry or what.  I have the same problem during the summer.  I could yell at a kid six times and they didn't hear me, but if I asked someone else to get their attention, they heard them.  Maybe I have a really annoying voice that's easy to tune out.  I don't know.  But it's kind of frustrating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-3347876634059086266?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/3347876634059086266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=3347876634059086266' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3347876634059086266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3347876634059086266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/09/group-building.html' title='Group Building'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2879292988181396530</id><published>2009-08-28T10:43:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T11:11:28.915-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='babysitting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='knitting'/><title type='text'>Animal Scrabble</title><content type='html'>When I was watching Jack the other day, he said he wanted to play a game.  I asked him what game, and he said, "Scrabble."&lt;br /&gt;First I was really confused.  "Scrabble?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, animal Scrabble."&lt;br /&gt;I was wondering why he wanted to play Scrabble (and I knew he wouldn't be like, really playing it, but still), and wondering what "animal" Scrabble was.  I asked him where it was, he directed me to the closet and pointed to the box.&lt;br /&gt;Animal &lt;i&gt;Scramble&lt;/i&gt;.  That made much more sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my favorite part of yesterday was when he asked for a drink after snack.  He said he wanted milk or orange juice, which I was pretty sure would be okay, but wasn't positive.  I said, "How about water?"  And he gave me a funny look and said, "How about &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; water?"&lt;br /&gt;I love that kid.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently working on my hair school application.  I'm supposed to write a letter of intent.  I'm not entirely sure what that's supposed to be about.  "I intend to go to your school."  Then what?  I don't know if this is supposed to be like, what I plan to do after, or if I'm supposed to talk myself up in it, or if I'm supposed to suck up in it.&lt;br /&gt;I think it's going to end up being kind of a personal mission statement thing, what I plan to do after.  We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, the Higher One guy hasn't called.  He said he would on Monday or Tuesday.  :/&lt;br /&gt;I've started knitting &lt;a href="http://i-like-lemons.blogspot.com/2008/01/button-tab-hat-pattern.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; (the one in the bottom right corner, because that's what the pattern is for, although I really like the green one above it).  I'm excited to see how it turns out.  I guess I'm pretending that when I get to hair school I'll be all stylish.  With my hat.  It's a dream, don't judge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also looking at my options for jobs.  It would be great to do reception in a salon before I get to hair school, and it might be a job I could keep once I start.  But I'm also thinking that once I start, I'm going to be wanting all the breaks I can get.  Classes are from 9:00 am - 4:30 pm Tuesday thru Saturday.  That's right, &lt;i&gt;Saturday&lt;/i&gt;.  Sunday and Monday will be my weekend.  I'd rather not work on Sundays, which leaves only Monday to work.  I don't know if I'll be able to hold a job for one day a week.  Unless I work after classes.  Which at this point, sounds not fun at all.  We'll see how things go, I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2879292988181396530?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2879292988181396530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2879292988181396530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2879292988181396530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2879292988181396530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/08/animal-scrabble.html' title='Animal Scrabble'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-6712399042245285826</id><published>2009-08-23T10:55:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T11:12:46.978-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Higher One'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mastercard'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><title type='text'>Define: Unbelievable</title><content type='html'>Remember that $117 purchase at a &lt;a href="http://kcp.co.kr/"&gt;Korean website&lt;/a&gt; on my debit card?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dispute was denied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't believe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you for contacting Customer Service. We have been working to win your dispute case and have received documentation (known as re-presentment documents) from the merchant involved in the transaction. Unfortunately the information that they supplied substantiates their assertion that the charge was valid...&lt;br /&gt;...Based on the information supplied by the merchant as well as the other available facts, we must deny your dispute. We had initially supplied a provisional credit for the transaction pending the full investigation. At this time, we have debited your OneAccount for the amount that was originally credited and consider the claim a closed item."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know what the other "available facts" were.  Because the fact is, I didn't do it.  I was at &lt;a href="www.somersetbeach.org"&gt;camp&lt;/a&gt; (family camp, actually) and I don't speak Korean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, it also said, "We regret that this was the outcome of you case."  At least make sure that the crushing e-mail is typo free, geez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first reaction was to cry (as it usually is).  I couldn't believe it had been denied.  All that the documents have on them is my card number and my name.  It's not my e-mail, it's not my phone number, and it's a company that try as I might, I have not been able to find to be in existence.  What about that substantiates the assertion that the charge was valid?  It was &lt;b&gt;obviously&lt;/b&gt; going to have my name and card number on it, duh.  But that's all there is.  There is absolutely NOTHING there "proving" that it was me.  And it &lt;i&gt;wasn't&lt;/i&gt; me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My aunt walked by while I was still &lt;strike&gt;crying&lt;/strike&gt; looking through the information, and dialed the number for customer service and handed me the phone.  She told me that they probably bank (pardon the pun) on college kids getting their claims denied, crying and giving up.  Which, honestly, I probably would have done if she hadn't been here.  She works at the Washtenaw County Police Department, and said we could file a police report for stolen identity or something and send it in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The customer service lady I talked to was really nice (not super helpful, but nice).  There wasn't much I could do right then, since the report hadn't actually been filed, and she said I needed to fax it in.  I ended up &lt;a href="www.twitter.com"&gt;tweeting&lt;/a&gt; about it, and thank goodness for &lt;a href="http://adorkable-me.blogspot.com/"&gt;Melanie&lt;/a&gt; and Kevin.  My debit card was issued through Spring Arbor, and Kevin's dad does work with that.  I called him, and he was able to connect me with someone a little higher up, who said he would look into it.  He couldn't understand why the claim had been denied either.  He's supposed to be giving me a call Monday or Tuesday.  He did say that he wasn't promising to get the money back - it could be that once a dispute is denied, it's denied and there's nothing you can do, which is really really discouraging.  If I can't get the money back, I at least want to know &lt;i&gt;why&lt;/i&gt; it was denied.  There's no evidence.  And also, I didn't do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://newfangled.wordpress.com/"&gt;Jamin&lt;/a&gt;'s mom also offered to help - she works at an attorney's office, and she said that if she wrote up a letter, her boss would probably be able to sign it for her.  Maybe if they see that there's a possibility of legal action, they'll change their minds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just been a really frustrating process.  And it's sort of upsetting to lose that much money.&lt;br /&gt;We'll see where it goes.  :/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-6712399042245285826?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/6712399042245285826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=6712399042245285826' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6712399042245285826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6712399042245285826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/08/define-unbelievable.html' title='Define: Unbelievable'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4413927260599856969</id><published>2009-08-16T20:10:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T20:35:27.984-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guitar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><title type='text'>Family Camp Music Guy</title><content type='html'>I know what I forgot from this summer: the music guy from family camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up playing with him a few times, since Wellspring wasn't at camp yet.  He didn't have a band put together like, four days before family camp started, so two counselors and myself were going to help him out.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know that I always think people don't like me.  But I didn't go into this thinking that he didn't like me right off the bat.  But after a "Koz, if we play Kelly Clarkson I'm totally playing the drums" joke, things were weird.  No, actually, they were weird when he realized that I was the one playing guitar instead of Jamin.  Which probably would have worked out better all around.&lt;br /&gt;I felt like he kind of ignored me during practice, but again, I'm a little paranoid about things like that.  I knew that he wasn't impressed with my skills (or lack of, I guess), but I didn't tell him I was awesome, and I'm pretty sure Kyle didn't either.&lt;br /&gt;The best part came during the Sunday morning service when he said something about being able to hear the praise in the music.  "You can hear the praise in the bass, and the drums, and I hope that you can hear it in the keys (which is what he was playing)!  And...and I hope you can hear it in all the other instruments too."&lt;br /&gt;Let's review the band:&lt;br /&gt;Nate - bass&lt;br /&gt;Koz - drums&lt;br /&gt;Guy - keys and vocals&lt;br /&gt;Me - guitar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Praise in bass: check.&lt;br /&gt;Praise in drums: check.&lt;br /&gt;Praise in keys: check.&lt;br /&gt;Praise in "all the other instruments": afterthought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't horrible.  It was just...frustrating, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's kind of funny to think about now.  Which is a lot better than still being embarrassing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4413927260599856969?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4413927260599856969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4413927260599856969' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4413927260599856969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4413927260599856969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/08/family-camp-music-guy.html' title='Family Camp Music Guy'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4819685943395185153</id><published>2009-08-11T15:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T15:54:56.665-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soup'/><title type='text'>Catching Up</title><content type='html'>I've already forgotten a lot of the things I wanted to write about from last week, I'm sure.  But I'll share the things I do remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a great week with a fantastic group of girls.  I was a little nervous going in, knowing I had 10 girls (I hate having a cot in the room, and it was so nice to not have a top bunk over my bed!).  Thinking about shower schedules in big rooms make me nervous.  I'm always afraid that everyone will want to take a shower in the morning and I'll have to start waking them up at 5:00 to get them all finished up.  But despite all that, I had a really really great week.  My girls were so, so awesome.  I got to practice french braiding, and we played a new version of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mafia_(party_game)"&gt;Mafia&lt;/a&gt;.  Becca's room had played a lot the week before, and she was a little sick of the death theme, so we changed things up a little.  We eventually came up with...well, I forgot what we decided to name it, actually.  So I told my girls it was called Danger Island.  I asked Becca later and I think she said Danger in the Tropics.  But I can't remember for sure.  Anyway, it's pretty much the same as Mafia, except it's set on an undiscovered primitive island.  The Mafia becomes the Spy who is kidnapping the tribes-people and selling them to the circus.  The Nurse is the Tribe Leader, who chooses someone to protect.  The Sheriff is an agent from the CIA, and is trying to discover who is the Spy.  It was pretty intense, and so much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a girl in my beach bums class who was &lt;strike&gt;the most hypochondriac person I've ever met&lt;/strike&gt; a little nervous about health issues.  She asked me if people had to take a test to see if they had any diseases before they could swim in the lake.  A few days later she had put on too much sunscreen and couldn't get it all rubbed in.  After a few minutes it had been absorbed (as sunscreen does), and she kept asking me if it was supposed to do that, if it was bad for her, if something bad would happen.  During a game she came up to me waggling her finger in my face, telling me she thought it was broken.  She wasn't a bad kid at all, just a little overly concerned.  About everything.  Her counselor said that she thought she was going deaf because someone yelled in her ear and wouldn't stop crying about it for like two hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another girl at camp was...well, she was difficult.  At one point during a game, she ran up to a counselor near me, crying, telling him that a boy had just kicked her.  The boy said she'd kicked him first.  I didn't see her kick him, but I knew the boy, and I knew the girl, and I'm sure she did kick him.  The other counselor told the boy not to kick people, and as soon as his back was turned, the girl stopped crying, looked over her shoulder and "Ha!"-ed at the boy.  I didn't even know what to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, I almost forgot about the cougher.  I had a girl in my room who on the first night, coughed for probably an hour and a half.  Which kept me awake.  It was pretty frustrating.  The next night, she coughed for another hour.  I thought I was going to lose it.  She is such a sweet, sweet girl, but I could not handle the coughing and throat clearing while I was trying to sleep.  I'm a person who likes it quiet.  And it was keeping other girls awake as well.  Tuesday night the fabulous nurses had her do a treatment from her nebulizer (I think?), and that solved the problem.  It was glorious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sad that camp is over.  It's nice to get a little more sleep, but I already miss the people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday afternoon, Becca, Nate and I made some candles for Jon and Lauren's wedding.  We used shells from the beach in them, since Jon worked at camp.  They weren't awesome, but we tried.  That's what counts, right?  I mean, they could have been worse.  I should have taken pictures.  Oh well.  We know for next time that you need to save a little wax, cause when they cool off they get little "wells" in the middle.  Whoops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday was the wedding, and it was great.  Not so great was the blister that my new shoes gave me.  Somehow, it happened before we even got to the wedding.  Like, during the car ride to the wedding.  Which is bizarre, but true.  I so so so hope that they just need to be broken in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I went through all my clothes and got rid of some more stuff.  It felt awesome.  Then I went through other stuff and got rid of some of that too.  It was a productive day.&lt;br /&gt;Oh!  Then Daniel made &lt;a href="http://lukecommasara.blogspot.com/2009/01/beach-bar-tomato-soup.html"&gt;tomato soup&lt;/a&gt;.  I helped.  It was delicious.  Even though it was super hot outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I've gotta find something to do for the rest of the day.  I had a dream last night that I mowed the lawn.  Maybe I'll go do that.  But probably not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4819685943395185153?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4819685943395185153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4819685943395185153' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4819685943395185153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4819685943395185153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/08/catching-up.html' title='Catching Up'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4814460731121972098</id><published>2009-08-07T18:33:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T18:35:14.726-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Insert title here.</title><content type='html'>I have got some blogging to catch up on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not now.  I am very busy with crafting and &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/MayFair-Games-4102480-Settlers-Catan/dp/B000W7JWUA"&gt;The Settlers of Catan&lt;/a&gt;.  And it is glorious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4814460731121972098?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4814460731121972098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4814460731121972098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4814460731121972098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4814460731121972098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/08/insert-title-here.html' title='Insert title here.'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4124051349407898349</id><published>2009-07-31T13:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T15:25:09.342-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><title type='text'>Define: Triumphant Return</title><content type='html'>It's been a while.  Okay, it's been over a month.  Whoops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Camp has been amazing this year.  There have been days when it's been really tough, but the overall experience has been fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;This last week started out in a rough sort of way, but by the end I was sad that they were leaving (even the kids in my beach bums class).&lt;br /&gt;I had two girls in my cabin and in my class, and for the first few days, I just didn't know how to handle them.  They were picking on each other, saying bad words, and picking on other campers.  They even got me.  Two examples:&lt;br /&gt;I took a shower and blow dried my hair in the bathroom.  Now, my hair is...well, it wasn't exactly...perfect, at the time.  But it wasn't &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; bad.  Anyway, I walked out of the bathroom and one of the girls said, "Wow, your hair looks really bad."  Great, thanks.&lt;br /&gt;Most of my girls this week were totally boy crazy, and I was trying to dissuade them from giggling and flirting and talking about boys all week.  At one point I said, "I didn't have a boyfriend until I was 20."   To which my camper replied, "Wow, that's &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; embarassing."  ...thanks, again.&lt;br /&gt;So I had these two girls every day, all day.  On Wednesday night, something happened, and one of them suddenly &lt;b&gt;loved&lt;/b&gt; me.  She held my hand all the way to the petting farm and all the way back, wanted me to french braid her hair, wanted to sit by me, the whole deal.  It made things so much better.  Not to say the problems went away, but they were &lt;i&gt;soo&lt;/i&gt; much better.  On the way over to the petting farm, one of the other campers wanted to braid my hair, so I took my hairtie out.  It had gotten wet, so it was &lt;strike&gt;out of control&lt;/strike&gt; a little messed up.  The girl who told me my hair looked bad before said, "Um, your hair is really weird."  And the girl who now loved me said, "No it's not, it's not that bad."&lt;br /&gt;My heart pretty much exploded.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was another camper in beach bums (not in my cabin) who was a little tough to handle sometimes (David).  He wasn't blatantly being disrespectful, but we were constantly reminding him of boundaries (and as soon as we said something he usually complied).  On the last day, we took the pontoon out into the middle of the lake to jump off.  One of the other campers had a few special needs, and was pretty hesitant about getting in the water.  I kept explaining that the life jacket would make him float, and we watched other campers jump in and pop right back up.  He was still a little scared, but David started encouraging him to get in.  When he finally did, David was there to keep encouraging him and hold his hand when he was afraid to let go of the boat.  It was so amazing to watch, and David was a total sweetheart that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also learned how to french braid this week, and I felt super awesome.  I meant to take a picture of the hair of one of my campers.  I started to give her french braided pigtails, but when I got to the back of her head, instead of keeping them separate, I combined the braids into one big one.  I may have been a little partial, but I think it looked pretty sweet.  Especially for only having two days of french braiding experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple weeks ago I discovered that a $177 purchase had been charged to my Spring Arbor Higher One account.  I was pretty sure that I'd remember making a purchase that large, and was really concerned as to how that had happened.  When the details of the transaction posted, I discovered that the transaction took place via a &lt;a href="kcp.co.kr"&gt;Korean website&lt;/a&gt;.  Not me, and definitely not okay.  I called Higher One and explained, and the woman told me I had to wait until the transaction cleared (apparently it was still pending).  The next day, I got online to see if it had cleared, and &lt;i&gt;another&lt;/i&gt; unauthorized transaction had taken place.  I called and cancelled my card, and started the dispute process (making sure to explain that it could not possibly have been me because I don't know a word of Korean).  The second charge has disappeared, and I just got an e-mail from Higher One that (I think) says that I'll probably be getting my money back.  Which is a relief.  $177 is a lot of money for me at this point.  Well, probably at any point in my life, really.  I'm just glad it's getting resolved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there have been a ton of other things that happened during the last month that I was going to write about, but at the moment, none come to mind, and I need to put my laundry in the dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh another thing:&lt;br /&gt;My campers keep using my towel.  I think I already brought this up.  But it happened again.&lt;br /&gt;This week I did not leave my towel in the bathroom when I wasn't using it.  Problem solved.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4124051349407898349?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4124051349407898349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4124051349407898349' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4124051349407898349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4124051349407898349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/07/define-triumphant-return.html' title='Define: Triumphant Return'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8767211827799721017</id><published>2009-06-20T15:08:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T15:28:21.487-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><title type='text'>The first camp of the summer...</title><content type='html'>I got puked on this week at camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I called Jamin Thursday night I told him, and he said, "Again?"  For a second I was confused, then I said, "No, not pooped, puked.  Throw up."  Poop was last summer.&lt;br /&gt;After the incident, I was in a surprisingly good mood.  I'm not sure why, but I'm glad, because I imagine that if I hadn't felt that way I would not have been fun to be around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a really great group this week.  There was one "squirrelly" camper (I feel like that's becoming the word of the summer), but even with some of the frustrating moments with her, I had a really good week.  I was really anxious going into it, but it turned out totally fine.  By the end, I couldn't believe it was already Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the campers I had was completely spacey.  The definition of, even.&lt;br /&gt;I had put my towel in the bathroom on Sunday before the campers arrived, and Sunday night, after this particular camper took a shower, she came out of the bathroom to get her clothes.  Wrapped in what appeared to be my towel.  I wasn't sure what to do right away, I was a little shocked, and I wasn't 100% positive that it was mine.  But sure enough, when I went in to take my shower later, my towel was gone.  Luckily I'd brought extras, so I just used one of those.&lt;br /&gt;In the morning, I asked her about it.&lt;br /&gt;"Was there a blue towel in the bathroom when you took a shower last night?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes."&lt;br /&gt;"...where is it now?"&lt;br /&gt;"I put it in my trash bag."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, that towel was mine, so could I have that back?"&lt;br /&gt;"Sure."  She started to climb down from her bed.  "Where is it?"&lt;br /&gt;"...um, wherever &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt; put it."&lt;br /&gt;And that was the first day.  More than once she wandered off (we lost her for a while because she forgot to come to dinner), even when I was &lt;i&gt;right there&lt;/i&gt;.  We were both on the playground, and I watched her start walking towards the lodges and get halfway up the hill (although heading a little bit more towards the West campground than the lodges) before I ran to catch up with her.  I asked where she was going, and she told me the lodge.  I asked her to ask me next time.  She'd been sort of walking with an adult, and after the camper walked away, the adult turned to me and said, "I think she's just a lonely little girl."  Like I had been neglecting her.  I told the woman that I had actually been within 30 feet of the camper when she'd started walking away, she's just...spacey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd written down that my goal for her was to pay more attention, but at the end of the week...I think  that maybe that was a pretty lofty goal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really, I did have a great week.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8767211827799721017?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8767211827799721017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8767211827799721017' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8767211827799721017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8767211827799721017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/06/first-camp-of-summer.html' title='The first camp of the summer...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1184703878605806246</id><published>2009-06-02T19:31:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T19:38:29.316-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><title type='text'>Oh, Camp</title><content type='html'>I love camp, I really do.  But I wish it would warm up.  A lot.  Especially when we're up north.  I hate the cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I got a headache in the middle of the afternoon, and after dinner I threw up.  I laid down for a few hours, then got a hold of one of the nurses because I just felt awful.  She came up and gave me some electrolyte pills and some Advil, but as soon as I got them down they came back up.  Last night was just not fun.&lt;br /&gt;But this morning I woke up with no headache and just a little shaky (probably because hardly any of the food I ate yesterday actually got digested).  Now I'm feeling a lot better, just wishing it was warmer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sort of excited for my birthday.  Jamin has Saturday all planned out (he won't tell me what, though), and I'm pretty excited to see what we'll be doing.  And to see Jamin.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please let it get warmer...&lt;br /&gt;And I'm hoping for something good in the staff fridge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1184703878605806246?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1184703878605806246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1184703878605806246' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1184703878605806246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1184703878605806246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/06/oh-camp.html' title='Oh, Camp'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1175521376428405005</id><published>2009-05-22T00:00:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T00:14:18.763-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bug'/><title type='text'>Define: Horrified</title><content type='html'>I came out of my bedroom at my aunt's to send a late night e-mail.  It was approximately 11:45, the lights were out.  I looked down, and saw SOMETHING CRAWLING TOWARD ME.  I knew that it was a bug because it wasn't that big, but it was so big that I could see it IN THE DARK.  I freaked out and ran to the bathroom and turned the light on.  The bug stopped near the door, and I ventured a look.  About 8 million legs, and stinking ginormous.  I put a paper cup over it (luckily there were some in the bathroom), and after mustering up some courage, tried to trap it between another cup.  It went fine, until it got out.  I let out a muffled screech and leaped back.  The bug made a break for my aunt's room (it was FAST), so I put a cup on it again.  I know, I know, just smush it!  But you didn't see it.  There was NO. WAY. I was cleaning that up.  I got a &lt;strike&gt;piece&lt;/strike&gt; mountain of paper to put under the cup, and got it on there.  But then I didn't know what to do with it.  My first instinct is to flush, but I was honestly afraid it would come back out of the toilet before it got flushed.  And there was no way I was going to deal with a wet giant bug.  I took it to the door, opened the door, and threw the cup and paper and slammed the door shut.  After I was satisfied that it was not going to ambush me when I opened the door, I grabbed the cup and paper (making sure not to touch the parts that the bug did), and threw away the cup and the top sheet of paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're interested, I discovered that it was a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scutigera_coleoptrata"&gt;house centipede&lt;/a&gt;.  I do not recommend looking.  And just for the record, it was at least two inches long (the body, not including the legs).  Not like the little pansy one in the picture on wikipedia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1175521376428405005?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1175521376428405005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1175521376428405005' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1175521376428405005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1175521376428405005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/05/define-horrified.html' title='Define: Horrified'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2686190751715079578</id><published>2009-05-15T00:49:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T01:05:24.585-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe I've just been awake for too long, but...</title><content type='html'>I really feel like by the time you get to college you should know how to pick up after yourself.  Cause really, you should have stopped crunching up paper, throwing it on the floor, and then walking away when you were about four.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;edit:&lt;br /&gt;And it doesn't make any sense to call someone a really horrible name and then say that you "like them as a person, but..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2686190751715079578?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2686190751715079578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2686190751715079578' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2686190751715079578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2686190751715079578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/05/maybe-ive-just-been-awake-for-too-long.html' title='Maybe I&apos;ve just been awake for too long, but...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1907298499605769992</id><published>2009-05-13T17:19:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T18:48:44.190-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>Scattered Things</title><content type='html'>- I'm excited about being so close to the end of school, but sad about leaving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Going home is going to be...I don't know yet.  I guess I'll start primarily living there again, which is a nice thought, but at the same time, terrifying.  I know it's terrible, but I hope Izzy is gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I have no idea what I'm going to do for the next two weeks either.  I have a room to paint at my Aunt's, but I'm pretty sure that won't take the whole two weeks.  Hopefully.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I'm hoping to get to go to the zoo before camp starts.  Jamin and I have been talking about going for over a year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Usually everyone leaves work at 5 except for me.  I brought potato chips for just this time, but the new guy has not left yet.  And does not seem to be making any preparations to do so.  I feel like these are the loudest potato chips I have ever eaten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I was also planning to play games after everyone left.  But he can see my screen from where he sits, so I feel weird, like I should be doing something productive instead (so I'm blogging, ha.  I guess I think that the constant typing will deceive him into thinking it's something important.  Probably not working.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I didn't call home for Mother's Day.  I guess my stepmom was upset, because my dad e-mailed me.  He said that he knew it might have been awkward (which it was, and that's why I didn't know what to do, and I haven't done anything before, so...), but the nice thing would have been to call or send a card or something.  Which is true, but I honestly hadn't thought about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- My stepmom is graduating from WCC on Saturday.  My first day of being done.  Naturally graduation is at 9 AM.  I will so be sleeping in on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- There are not going to be enough calls to make it worth two of us being here.  Really.  Go home so I can play my games and crunch my potato chips without feeling judged (I'm sure he's not, I'm just paranoid).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Becca's family is moving to Ypsi because her dad has a new job (at Jason Verde's church, actually).  I am sad for her that she is leaving her house in Kalamazoo, but Ypsi is so much closer to my home.  I am secretly (well, when she told me I guess I shrieked very excitedly, so maybe not so secretly) very excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Maybe it's alright that Shawn is still here.  Because a phone call just went to him instead of me.  Ha.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Stupid crunchy chips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I am so excited for camp.  I saw Willis Kilbourne today, and he gave me a hug, and I so want to be at camp right now.  Only two and a half weeks...I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Jen, we need to start on the purpling dictionary ASAP.  We need to have it ready for senior teen camp.  No one will know to look out for eggplanting if we don't warn them about it.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Shawn just got up from his desk...but not to leave.  Eating potato chips as quickly as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I had big plans for &lt;a href="http://popcap.com/games/mac/pvz/?icid=plantsvszombies_HP_DL_1_8_19_08_mac_en"&gt;Plants vs. Zombies&lt;/a&gt; tonight.  It's cooler than it sounds.  And not as yucky as zombies sometimes are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- It's sad how long I've spent writing this, and Shawn is back, so I think it's time to be done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Edit: all of the calls so far have gone to Shawn except one.  And when I picked up, they asked to talk to him.  Ha.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1907298499605769992?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1907298499605769992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1907298499605769992' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1907298499605769992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1907298499605769992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/05/scattered-things.html' title='Scattered Things'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4619324206936131032</id><published>2009-05-03T20:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T20:09:51.420-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Letter from God to all Women...</title><content type='html'>I don't know where this is from, but I really like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made her... she is different. With love I formed her in her mother’s womb. I fashioned her with great joy. I remember, with pleasure, the day I created her. I love her smile. I love her ways. I love to hear her laugh. And the silly things she says and does. She brings me great pleasure. This is how I made her. I made her pretty and not beautiful because I knew heart, and I knew she would be vain... I wanted her to search out her heart, and learn that it would be me in her that made her beautiful... and it would be Me in her heart that would draw friends to her. I made her in such a way that she would need me. I made her a little more lonesome than she would like to be, I know her heart, I know if I had not made her like this she would have gone her own way and forgotten about me... her Creator. I have given her many good and happy things... because I love her. Because I love her, I have seen her broken heart and the tears she’s cried alone. And I have cried with her and had a broken heart too. Many times she has stumbled and fallen alone, only because she would not hold my hand. So many lessons she has learned the hard way because she would not listen to my voice... So many times I have sat back and watched her go her own way, only to return to my arms sad and broken. And now she is mine again... I made her, and then I bought her... Because I love her. I have to reshape and mold her.. To renew her to what I had planned for her to be. It has not been easy for her or for me. I want her to be conformed to my image... This is the high goal I have set for her....&lt;br /&gt;Because I love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I created the heavens and earth, I spoke them into being. When I created man, I formed him and breathed life into his nostrils. But you, woman, I fashioned after I breathed the breath of life into man because your nostrils are too delicate . I allowed a deep sleep to come over him so I could patiently and perfectly fashion you. Man was put to sleep so he could not interfere with my creativity. From one bone I fashioned you. I chose the bone that protects man’s life. I chose the rib, which protects the heart and lungs, and supports him, as you are meant to do. Around this one bone I shaped you... I molded you. I created you perfectly and beautifully. Your characteristics are as the rib, strong, yet delicate and fragile. You provide protection for the most delicate organ in man, his heart. His heart is the center of his being; his lungs hold the breath of life, the rib cage will allow itself to be broken before it will allow damage to the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Support the man as the rib cage supports the body. You were not taken from his feet, to be below him, nor from his head to be above him. You were taken from his side to stand beside him and be held close to his side. You are my perfect angel, you are my beautiful little girl. You have grown to be a splendid woman of excellence, and my eyes fill when I see the virtues in your heart. Your eyes-don’t change them. Your lips- how lovely when they part in prayer. Your hands- how gently to touch. I’ve caressed your face in deep sleep. I’ve held your heart close to mine. Of all that lives and breathes you are the most like me. Adam walked with me in the cool of the day, and yet he was lonely. He could not see me or touch me, he could only feel me. For everything I wanted Adam to share and experience with me, I fashioned you- my holiness, my strength, my purity, my love, my protection, my support. You are special because you are an extension of me. Man represents my image; woman, my emotions. Together you represent the totality of God. So man, treat woman well. Love her, respect her, for she is fragile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4619324206936131032?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4619324206936131032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4619324206936131032' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4619324206936131032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4619324206936131032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/05/letter-from-god-to-all-women.html' title='A Letter from God to all Women...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8571177724545760735</id><published>2009-04-22T11:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T11:19:49.567-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Define: Undefined</title><content type='html'>I was trying to think of a good way to tell people I'm not coming back to Spring Arbor next year, but last night at Bible study Clare asked if I knew what I was doing, and I didn't want to say no, so...there it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'm excited to do something new.  Sometimes I am really scared.  I don't quite know yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next year is going to be very different.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8571177724545760735?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8571177724545760735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8571177724545760735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8571177724545760735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8571177724545760735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/04/define-undefined.html' title='Define: Undefined'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-6255103565281253609</id><published>2009-04-09T23:14:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T23:17:57.814-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Define: "Green"</title><content type='html'>I just watched someone turn off all the computers in the row in front of me.  Which I thought was weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I looked around, and realized he turned off EVERY computer not being used.  In the entire library lab.  And in the quiet lab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh, thanks for trying to be 'green,' but now there are only six computers on in the whole library, and they're all being used.  Oh, and the computer lab is still open for three more hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....who does that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-6255103565281253609?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/6255103565281253609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=6255103565281253609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6255103565281253609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6255103565281253609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/04/define-green.html' title='Define: &quot;Green&quot;'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2965543064673390821</id><published>2009-04-07T15:22:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T15:48:03.317-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>Define: Weekend</title><content type='html'>This weekend was hard in quite a few ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Notice: This is incredibly long.  Just so you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to go into detail about everything, because I'll just get worked up about it again, and now that I've been able to get away from things, it's a little less bad than it seemed at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My stepbrother's girlfriend has been kicked out of her house, so she's staying at my house.  My parents didn't want her there, but when she got kicked out, what else was there to do?  She didn't have anywhere else to go, and what would they have said to Wesley?  "Nope, sorry, your girlfriend has to live on the streets."  I understand why my parents let her move in after talking with them about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, onto the girlfriend, Izzy, as she prefers to be called (Isabelle is the real name).  She moved into my bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sort of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By sort of, I mean that clothes and things were strewn EVERYWHERE.  I'll be honest, I am not known for being a neat-freak, but I got about three feet past the door of my room, and could go no further.  It was a total mess.  And then there was the smoke smell.  I had a headache in 10 minutes.  It bothered me that it smelled like smoke, and it bothered me that now everything of mine that's in there smells like smoke.  Sure, clothes can be washed, but it's got to be in the carpet, mattress, everything.  There are also some things I'm not putting into the wash, like the dress I wore as a flower girl in my aunt's wedding in third grade.  My stepmom smokes, but she is very careful about the smell of it.  She doesn't smoke in her car, and she never smokes in the house.  I'm not sure if Izzy smoked in the room or not.  I know that my stepmom wouldn't let her if she knew, but I did find a cigarette butt in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was also upset to find some of my things mixed in with Izzy's.  For example Izzy has a doll collection.  A doll that my grandmother gave me was sitting on the desk with hers.  I know that this may not have been malicious, she may not have been intending to take it, but that's still a very threatening thing.  To come into your disaster area room that smells like smoke and to see that it looks like the person whose things are everywhere has gone through your things and taken out what she likes is really...well, I was mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was also upset that a candleholder had been broken.  I know, I know, a candleholder?  Really?  But it was my mom's.  I know that she didn't know that, but she still should have been more careful because they weren't her things.  The worst part was that she'd taken it apart, kept the base out, and then thrown away the broken pieces.  I was not happy while sifting through the trash, looking for shards of glass.  I don't know if I'll be able to fix it, but I was really, really upset that she had thrown away something that did not belong to her.  (I know it's terrible and cliché, but she had no right.  There, I said it.  I'm pretending that it's less corny because it's in the parenthesis.  Don't judge.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mouth on that girl is something else.  She said things that were completely, completely inappropriate.  My parents said they'd talk with her, and that they've had to do it before.  It was just...yikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really get homework done this weekend, which was the worst part.  I had a TON of stuff to do, and I didn't accomplish anything while I was at home.  It's hard for me to work without a desk, and the desk in my room was covered with Izzy's stuff (I also couldn't get to it, even if it was useable).  But after staying up late a few nights, I'm down to my last assignment for this week (which is due tonight, so I should probably not be blogging).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also found out that my sister isn't talking to my dad.  He sold our horses, and she way overreacted.  I was sad that he sold them, but I understood why: he's the only one that takes care of them, it's expensive, no one rides them, etc.  They were going through $100 of hay a week.  I'm sad that they're gone, but I think he did the right thing.  They should be somewhere where people will be riding them and taking care of them.  My sister, though, flipped out.  She is convinced that my dad sold them to the butcher (I am questioning what in her 23 years of existence on this planet made that idea pop into her head.  I cannot think of anything that happened during our childhood or adult life that would have even possibly made that thought cross her mind, let alone believe it).  My dad gave her the number of the man he sold them to and told her to call him if she didn't believe him.  He wrote her a letter, but she's still not responding.  I told my dad I would talk to her, but I'm not sure what to say.  I think she's being really immature about this.  It doesn't bother me if she gets mad at me over it, because I think she's wrong.  She's overreacting, and she's really hurting my dad.  But not caring if she's mad at me probably isn't the way I should handle it.  I just don't know what she thought would happen.  By the time she and Sean get settled and could take care of them, the horses would be like 30 years old!  They wouldn't be rideable anymore, if they even lived that long!  She can't keep them at her apartment, and there's no way they could afford to keep them at a stable.  I understand that she is upset, but I think that she's taking it too far, and I don't think she really thought about the reasons behind what my dad did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked with my parents about my educational plans.  I am having a hard time choosing whether I should keep going to Spring Arbor (I'm at LEAST 2 years away from a communications degree), or transfer to a community college (I could probably get an associates in something in a semester).  I'd rather be here, but it's a lot of money to be here.  This is where all my friends are.  If I transfer, I don't know how I'll actually get to classes, because at this point, I don't have a car.  I also don't want to be living at home if Izzy is going to be there.  I can honestly say that before last weekend, I was considering going back home, which is a thought that hasn't crossed my mind in a long time.  But community college would be a lot cheaper, and I'm so close to an associate's degree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad told me that if I wanted to stay here, they'd support that, but they need me to pick a program and stay with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got some decisions to make.  But first, I need to finish reading the Inferno.&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2965543064673390821?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2965543064673390821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2965543064673390821' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2965543064673390821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2965543064673390821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/04/define-weekend.html' title='Define: Weekend'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-237996742316952097</id><published>2009-04-05T02:09:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T02:47:24.120-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>Home</title><content type='html'>I've got a whole post typed up about this weekend so far, and in particular, my stepbrother's girlfriend, but I'm not sure I should post it.  We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend is not going as I had envisioned it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-237996742316952097?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/237996742316952097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=237996742316952097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/237996742316952097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/237996742316952097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/04/home.html' title='Home'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8690308862101498429</id><published>2009-04-02T23:31:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T23:33:33.880-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Attn: Athletes</title><content type='html'>Wearing shorts under your sweatpants does not make it acceptable for you to let your butt hang out of the sweatpants.  Seriously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8690308862101498429?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8690308862101498429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8690308862101498429' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8690308862101498429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8690308862101498429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/04/attn-athletes.html' title='Attn: Athletes'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4257128786714712907</id><published>2009-04-01T16:50:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T16:54:57.530-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>Define: Dread</title><content type='html'>Dread: when you're finally done helping people actually physically present at the Help Desk, and must now answer the phone that's been ringing for the last 15 minutes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4257128786714712907?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4257128786714712907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4257128786714712907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4257128786714712907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4257128786714712907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/04/define-dread.html' title='Define: Dread'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7741460392932978149</id><published>2009-03-31T22:54:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T23:07:16.536-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Define: Light at the end of the tunnel</title><content type='html'>I met with my new advisor today, and we pretty much planned my next two years of college with a major in drama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not entirely sure this is something I really want, but it falls under the communications department, which is something that will probably be useful.  And at this point, I just want to graduate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still need to pick a minor, though.  She suggested art, since I seem to like that kind of thing, or maybe writing, but I'm thinking that whatever I already have a lot of credits in is probably what I'm gonna go for.  It's a squeeze to get all the requirements for a drama major in in the next two years, so it's not going to be easy to cram a minor in there as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at least I am making progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not as caught up on homework as I'd like to be, but I'm not behind yet.  I just wish I wasn't so tired!  I've been ready to pass out since about 9:30 tonight, and shortly after finishing this post, I think that's what I'll do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We watched a short video about Dante's Divine Comedy in my world literature class tonight, and they showed a very, very, very, very x 8 unnecessary to show scene.  I'm afraid I'm going to have nightmares.  Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that the screening process for new instructors at Spring Arbor University (if there is one) needs some drastic, drastic changes.  A woman called the other day, trying to make her course available to her students online.  She needed to go to the control panel of the course on the website on Blackboard, and she was telling me she couldn't find settings after opening the control panel.  I asked her what she saw when she did open the control panel, and she read me off a HUGE list of things, including, but not limited to: Internet connection, mouse, sound, printer, etc.  After she finished reading me the list, I asked her if she could open up Blackboard and click on the link in the browser that said control panel, instead of clicking on Start and going to the control panel listed there.&lt;br /&gt;This woman is supposed to be TEACHING.  And she's called back with similar issues, which would take more time than I want to take to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got an unopened bag of potato chips, and 11:06 pm is probably not the time to be opening them, but I imagine it's going to happen.  Pretty sure I can live with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7741460392932978149?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7741460392932978149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7741460392932978149' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7741460392932978149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7741460392932978149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/03/define-light-at-end-of-tunnel.html' title='Define: Light at the end of the tunnel'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4650659506972645532</id><published>2009-03-25T16:46:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T16:54:39.786-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Define: Hopeless (2)</title><content type='html'>I am trying to make an academic plan for the next however long it takes me to graduate, and honestly, I feel that graduation is hopeless.  I have no idea how I could possibly get a degree in anything within the next two years.  By the time I &lt;i&gt;maybe&lt;/i&gt; get a degree, I'll have been in college for seven years.  &lt;b&gt;Seven years!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I'm going to do when I get out of school, whether I have a degree or not.  I don't know what I &lt;i&gt;want&lt;/i&gt; to do.  Looking at the list of classes I still need to take to get a degree is overwhelming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing pretty well academically this semester, but my motivation to stay in school is quickly waning.  I feel like I'm planning on coming back next year because I just don't know what else to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4650659506972645532?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4650659506972645532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4650659506972645532' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4650659506972645532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4650659506972645532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/03/define-hopeless-2.html' title='Define: Hopeless (2)'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8437109856020815474</id><published>2009-03-23T00:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T00:37:48.990-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Back at school...</title><content type='html'>I just made a homemade rice bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jamin's legs were really sore, so I got out the extra fabric I had from the Jodo bird, and made a bag.  I put a bunch of rice in (because it's big, it was for his legs), and sewed the top shut.  It's huge.  We put it in the microwave for about seven minutes to get it all warm enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there's still a little rice left over, so I think I might make a little one for myself.  Some online makers recommended putting some scented oil or tea in with the rice to make it smell good.&lt;br /&gt;This is gonna be awesome.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Break was way too short.  But I sorted out some family things today, and I hope that I'll actually be going home a little more often now.  That's a good feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, I was going to try to get to bed early tonight...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8437109856020815474?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8437109856020815474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8437109856020815474' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8437109856020815474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8437109856020815474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/03/back-at-school.html' title='Back at school...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1615416206970568146</id><published>2009-03-17T00:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T00:06:24.660-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>There's nothing like...</title><content type='html'>...being greeted with, "Oh crap," when you come home to make you feel welcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1615416206970568146?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1615416206970568146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1615416206970568146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1615416206970568146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1615416206970568146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/03/theres-nothing-like.html' title='There&apos;s nothing like...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-3763147509945244931</id><published>2009-03-16T11:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T11:41:14.885-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>An oldie but a goodie</title><content type='html'>A professor at the university called the Help Desk and told me that she could not find "the big 'e'" and she could not get on the internet, because "the big 'e'" was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yikes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-3763147509945244931?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/3763147509945244931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=3763147509945244931' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3763147509945244931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3763147509945244931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/03/oldie-but-goodie.html' title='An oldie but a goodie'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-3384301799392886329</id><published>2009-03-12T12:46:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T13:34:11.368-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jamin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><title type='text'>Jamin's Birthday</title><content type='html'>Jamin's birthday was yesterday.  I made him a Jodo Bird (He calls me bird, because he accidentally called me Jodo once, which sounds like dodo, dodo bird, etc.).  This is the test...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/joditodi/?action=view&amp;current=Photo47.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d49/joditodi/Photo47.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sort of has a tumor.  The real one wasn't much better...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2592/213/117/1249680069/n1249680069_30169136_4740276.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 453px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2592/213/117/1249680069/n1249680069_30169136_4740276.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It reminds me of the &lt;a href="http://brunelstudents.com/files/minisites/4615/taz%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;Tasmanian Devil&lt;/a&gt;.  Huge shoulders, tiny rest of the body...  I've decided I actually like the first one much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was also a comic to go with the bird, which I'll put in the comic blog eventually.  Since I haven't updated that since...October?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also made what was originally going to be a fruit bouquet.  For several,various reasons, they didn't end up looking much like flowers.  They were pretty much fruit shishkabobs.  But he liked it.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2592/213/117/1249680069/n1249680069_30169133_7988712.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 453px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2592/213/117/1249680069/n1249680069_30169133_7988712.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-3384301799392886329?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/3384301799392886329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=3384301799392886329' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3384301799392886329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3384301799392886329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/03/jamins-birthday.html' title='Jamin&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7008918686618941160</id><published>2009-03-09T22:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T22:07:17.490-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>My motivation is waning...</title><content type='html'>Spring break is so close, yet so far away...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7008918686618941160?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7008918686618941160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7008918686618941160' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7008918686618941160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7008918686618941160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-motivation-is-waning.html' title='My motivation is waning...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4211074393628363284</id><published>2009-03-01T22:24:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T22:40:29.146-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='room'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toilet paper'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flowers'/><title type='text'>This weekend went by pretty quickly.</title><content type='html'>I got soooooo much done this weekend!  I narrowed down my list of about 16 things of homework to just three!  And that's for the entire WEEK.  I am so pumped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also cleaned a lot in my room.  I dusted and organized my desk, hutch, and bookshelf.  I cleaned the fridge (wiped it out and everything), Erin and I consolidated food items and they are much more organized, vacuumed, and hung up lights from our ceiling.  They are pretty fabulous.  I enjoy sitting in the room with the main light off and just the &lt;strike&gt;Christmas&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;strike&gt;Halloween&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;strike&gt;shamrock&lt;/strike&gt; holiday lights on.  They are pretty festive, and there is a sweet, ambience/mood lighting thing going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also, this afternoon, along with Erin and Clare, T.P.ed Becca's room.  She was gone for the weekend, and we took advantage of her time away.  I made a big toilet paper bow and tacked it to her door.  It was a pretty well fashioned bow, if I do say so myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today Erin and I added a new member to our room: Harriet!  She is an African Dwarf Frog.  I would take a picture, but the battery in my camera is dead, and I am not entirely sure where the charger is.  And yes, I have a MacBook and I could use the built in camera, but I am somewhat leery of holding a heavy glass container full of water over my laptop, moving it around to get the best angle while Harriet will probably be swimming all over the place.  No thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, we also added Jetur to our room, and I will take a picture of him.  Jamin named him, by the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SatUUq8bZpI/AAAAAAAAAKI/jrMfCq6O0Wo/s1600-h/Photo+46.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SatUUq8bZpI/AAAAAAAAAKI/jrMfCq6O0Wo/s320/Photo+46.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308429299888121490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SatUUtQlW4I/AAAAAAAAAKA/CVMKxqFvhxs/s1600-h/Photo+45.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SatUUtQlW4I/AAAAAAAAAKA/CVMKxqFvhxs/s320/Photo+45.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308429300509531010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two of the flowers are stuck together (oooh, you can see the shamrock lights in the background!).  I only have it because Jamin thought it was cool.  I'm pretty sure it'll be dead in a week or two.  But I did get some pretty pink Gerbera daisies in addition to Jetur, and they look very stylish on my desk in my sweet vase.  I'm liking the changes we made to our room this weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4211074393628363284?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4211074393628363284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4211074393628363284' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4211074393628363284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4211074393628363284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-weekend-went-by-pretty-quickly.html' title='This weekend went by pretty quickly.'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SatUUq8bZpI/AAAAAAAAAKI/jrMfCq6O0Wo/s72-c/Photo+46.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-5239522183847578664</id><published>2009-02-26T22:07:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T22:14:20.889-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><title type='text'>And now I remember...</title><content type='html'>...why I'd rather work in my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did well, I got three things done.  Then I had to go back to my room because I'd forgotten my keys, and when I get off of work at 2 am, Muffitt will be locked, and I'd like to get in (I also brought back some Chex Mix and Reeses to snack on for the next four hours.  It was necessary.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to do my homework in the order that it's due.  I can't do one of my assignments for Monday yet, because I need to borrow notes from Clare.  No biggie, it's not going to take that long to write.  So I went to the next thing on my list.  Creative writing.  I pulled out my creative writing notebook to see which stories I need to read for Monday, and realized it's the wrong notebook.  I have to do three things for creative writing, but I have to read the stories before I can do the other two assignments.  And I can't do the first one because I brought the wrong notebook.  And I can't go back to my room and get it, because now I'm working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why didn't I notice in the two hours I was here before I was working?!&lt;br /&gt;Augh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-5239522183847578664?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/5239522183847578664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=5239522183847578664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5239522183847578664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5239522183847578664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/02/and-now-i-remember.html' title='And now I remember...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4444316687954672692</id><published>2009-02-26T20:09:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T20:12:16.007-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><title type='text'>I'd rather be in Muffitt 412...</title><content type='html'>....but I have reached a point where I can no longer do homework in my room.  There are too many other things to do, people around, pie in the fridge (which I have already mostly devoured), beds to take naps in...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hellooooooo library.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here I am, sitting in the library, blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time to turn off the wireless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4444316687954672692?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4444316687954672692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4444316687954672692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4444316687954672692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4444316687954672692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/02/id-rather-be-in-muffitt-412.html' title='I&apos;d rather be in Muffitt 412...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2779128200209605632</id><published>2009-02-24T17:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T18:02:07.118-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strawberry pie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>There is nothing like knowing...</title><content type='html'>...that there will be a freshly made (freshly made in that we made it a few hours ago, but it's in the fridge to get cold-ified.  I guess that means it'll be freshly ready?) strawberry pie in your fridge waiting to be eaten to make you feel better after you get done listening to your professor blather on about The Iliad for three hours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2779128200209605632?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2779128200209605632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2779128200209605632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2779128200209605632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2779128200209605632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/02/there-is-nothing-like-knowing.html' title='There is nothing like knowing...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-5377185014696402709</id><published>2009-02-22T20:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T20:56:14.924-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><title type='text'>I thought...</title><content type='html'>...that I was getting all caught up on homework, until I realized today that I have four things to do for creative writing tomorrow, not one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was a sad, sad moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-5377185014696402709?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/5377185014696402709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=5377185014696402709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5377185014696402709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5377185014696402709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-thought.html' title='I thought...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1646552072699434406</id><published>2009-02-20T19:23:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T19:43:01.112-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>*Insert something witty/creative here*</title><content type='html'>In my time working at the Help Desk, I've talked to a lot of people that were upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of these people, outside of the particular situation in which I interacted with them, have loads of people who testify to their cheery, big ball of sunshine attitude.  Which makes me wonder, what are they really like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that sometimes people just have off days, or get frustrated, but I also know that when every time someone calls they are rude, it's hard to chalk it up to a bad day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to think that when I'm asking someone for their help, I am calm and considerate.  I also know that can't possibly be the case, because I am a human being, and I am not perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's frustrating when the person I'm asking for help doesn't understand my problem right away, but I also know from being on the other side, that it's hard to know what the problem is when I can't see the computer screen, just as the people who help me can't see the whole picture either.  All they've got to go on is what I tell them, just as all I know about the problem is what the person on the phone tells me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also need to understand, as the person giving help, that the person on the other end of the line may not be computer savvy.  Sometimes it's easy for me to get frustrated with problem.  I need to remember, from being on the receiving end of help, that all I know is what the person helping me is telling me.  The relationship between the person being helped and the person helping is one in which each participant is very dependent on the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to keep this in mind not just at work or when I'm receiving help, but whenever I interact with someone else.  When I ignore someone smiling at me, they don't know it's because I'm grumpy.  They might think I don't like them.  When someone doesn't wave back at me, I don't know it's because they're focused on something else, I think that they don't feel I matter to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to make an effort to be more conscious of the people around me, and even more conscious of myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1646552072699434406?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1646552072699434406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1646552072699434406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1646552072699434406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1646552072699434406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/02/insert-something-wittycreative-here.html' title='*Insert something witty/creative here*'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-5952261410363978401</id><published>2009-02-18T17:38:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T17:49:12.461-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sewing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pinkie Pie'/><title type='text'>Define: Productive</title><content type='html'>I realized a few days ago that all my homework for the week is due Mondays and Tuesdays, and then I have one tiny assignment on Fridays.  Thus, after I finish my Tuesday homework on Tuesday, I think to myself, "Now I have the rest of the week to do nothing (because I can do the Friday assignment in like 10 minutes, tops)!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is true, but it makes Sunday-Tuesday not so fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is why I am doing my Tuesday homework (drumroll, please) right now!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so that's probably not a big deal to most people, but I can't stop thinking about how much free time I will have if I do my homework more than a few hours before it's due!  The possibilities are endless!   ...ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, &lt;a href="http://thefinerpointofarandomlife.blogspot.com/"&gt;Erin&lt;/a&gt; and I cleaned our room the other day, and it's still clean, and you have no idea how crazy that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh!  And I sewed the hole in Jamin's pants today, with my sewing machine!  I felt super sweet.&lt;br /&gt;I told my grandma that Becca and I were interested in quilting, and she bought me a sewing machine.  This is the first time I've gotten to put it to use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, actually, that's not true.  I made Erin's scary &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Little-Pony-Crawling-Newborn-Pinkie/dp/B00160LDJA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;s=toys-and-games&amp;qid=1234997180&amp;sr=1-1"&gt;My Little Pony&lt;/a&gt; toy a blanket during J-Term.  It looks all pink and cute and harmless, but trust me, it's creepy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I just realized, why the heck is Pinkie Pie crawling on her knees?  She's a pony!  Pony knees don't even bend that way!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-5952261410363978401?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/5952261410363978401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=5952261410363978401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5952261410363978401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5952261410363978401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/02/define-productive.html' title='Define: Productive'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1966419524076965746</id><published>2009-02-07T23:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T23:58:25.747-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jamin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stencils'/><title type='text'>Define: Awesome</title><content type='html'>I decided to make a stenciled t-shirt for Jamin for Valentine's Day in addition to what I already got him, but after I finished it last night, I was too excited to wait a week to give it to him, so he got it this afternoon.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos-e.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v231/213/117/1249680069/n1249680069_30067724_8218.jpg"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v231/213/117/1249680069/n1249680069_30067725_8520.jpg"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; are the original photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SY5lcnpvdZI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/pgNVB3E7nhg/s1600-h/DSC05818.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SY5lcnpvdZI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/pgNVB3E7nhg/s320/DSC05818.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300285353816454546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SY5lcCKGGMI/AAAAAAAAAJw/rN00V-gwxAA/s1600-h/DSC05815.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SY5lcCKGGMI/AAAAAAAAAJw/rN00V-gwxAA/s320/DSC05815.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300285343751608514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SY5lb0P3rAI/AAAAAAAAAJo/ib_ovdn-iV0/s1600-h/DSC05814.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SY5lb0P3rAI/AAAAAAAAAJo/ib_ovdn-iV0/s320/DSC05814.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300285340017732610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1966419524076965746?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1966419524076965746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1966419524076965746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1966419524076965746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1966419524076965746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/02/define-awesome.html' title='Define: Awesome'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SY5lcnpvdZI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/pgNVB3E7nhg/s72-c/DSC05818.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2684251936685234458</id><published>2009-02-01T21:50:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T21:57:33.490-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='embarassing moments'/><title type='text'>Define: Embarassment</title><content type='html'>I fell out of a bunk bed this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I completely missed the ladder and crashed onto the wooden parts of the other bed and the wooden floor.  My sleeping bag, blanket, and pillow all came with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, I was alone in the cabin at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not so fortunately, I'd just had that thought when I heard the door open.  I scrambled up and threw my sleeping bag, pillow, and blanket back onto the bed and nonchalantly (in my mind, anyway, I was probably waddling/limping a bit) waltzed into the other room.  Mikyla asked if I was alright, so I had to assume she'd caught that something had happened.  I mumbled something about the ladder and tried to pretend it didn't happen.  Turns out she heard the crash from outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I have a big, swollen, painful, nearly black bruise on my lower back/hip-ish area, riiiiight where my belt sits.&lt;br /&gt;Aaaawesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the bright side, it definitely woke me up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2684251936685234458?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2684251936685234458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2684251936685234458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2684251936685234458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2684251936685234458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/02/define-embarassment.html' title='Define: Embarassment'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8053950608897625264</id><published>2009-01-26T21:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T21:07:18.791-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>Define: Cranky-Pants</title><content type='html'>I got a call today from an older gentleman who was trying to make sure his address was updated on the SAU Portal.  He complained that he didn't know how to use the new site, and there used to be a button right there, and he had no idea where it was anymore, and it was probably under these buttons, but he couldn't find it, etc., all with a cranky tone.  I directed him to the page where the information was (he told me he'd already clicked that), and I told him what to click to change it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't even say thank you, he said, "Well, my address &lt;b&gt;isn't&lt;/b&gt; updated, &lt;b&gt;by the way&lt;/b&gt;," like it was &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; job to have known that he moved and changed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a cranky-pants!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8053950608897625264?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8053950608897625264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8053950608897625264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8053950608897625264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8053950608897625264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/01/define-cranky-pants.html' title='Define: Cranky-Pants'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-3065388956297146586</id><published>2009-01-26T12:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T13:03:15.602-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><title type='text'>Oh Catie...</title><content type='html'>Camp this weekend was magical, as usual.  And now Jack knows who I am (we got off to a bit of a rough start when he called me 'Becca.'  But I forgave him.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my girls was one I'd had before.  The other three were cousins, and were pretty close.  They thought the other girl was a little weird, and they were picking on her and ignoring her.  The first night after I turned out the lights, Catie asked if the other girls liked her.  No one said anything.  She said, "Well, I'll take that as a no..." and it sounded like she was starting to cry.  I got up and turned the lights back on.  I said that even if they all didn't like each other, they still needed to be nice, and I told the three cousins that I was a little disappointed with the way that they'd been treating Catie.  Then I talked to her for about 45 minutes in the hallway, and we went back to bed.  The other girls were better the next day, until we came back to the room for the night.  Catie had invited them all to a party on her bed, and no one wanted to go.  I wasn't sure what to do, because I wasn't going to make them go, but I didn't want Catie to be upset either.  One girl stepped up and went up to Catie's bed, and another followed shortly.  I was pretty proud of them.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was also hard when Catie was talking about how much she doesn't like Obama when the other girls were wearing Obama shirts and hats.  She said, "My parents said Obama is a j-e-r-k.  I think he's stinky," and various other things throughout the weekend.  I finally pulled her aside and said, "Catie, what if they don't like Palin (who Catie really likes) the way that you don't like Obama?  Wouldn't it make you feel bad if they were saying mean things about her?"  I think that helped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was exhausted when I got back yesterday, but all in all, it was a good weekend, and I'm excited to be going back this weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-3065388956297146586?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/3065388956297146586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=3065388956297146586' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3065388956297146586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3065388956297146586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/01/oh-catie.html' title='Oh Catie...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8423349073155651407</id><published>2009-01-21T14:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T15:12:19.879-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='links'/><title type='text'>Linkapalooza</title><content type='html'>- &lt;a href="http://www.somersetbeach.org"&gt;Camp&lt;/a&gt; is this weekend!  I am excited.  :)  But I do hope the temperature goes up a smidge.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;a href="http://thefinerpointofarandomlife.blogspot.com/"&gt;Erin&lt;/a&gt; is coming back!  But on Saturday, when I am at camp.  But we are going to party it up Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;- Camp this summer!  I can't wait!  Although I must admit, part of me will miss the &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=11816&amp;l=b8bf8&amp;id=1260180041"&gt;Palace&lt;/a&gt;...but maybe not so much after it &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=12500&amp;l=e7d51&amp;id=1260180041"&gt;rains&lt;/a&gt;.  But where will &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=11836&amp;l=3903d&amp;id=1260180041"&gt;Melvin&lt;/a&gt; live at the new cabins?!&lt;br /&gt;- I have yellow flowers on my desk, and they are magical.&lt;br /&gt;- It is warm in my room.  I love it.&lt;br /&gt;- I ordered &lt;a href="http://newfangled.wordpress.com/"&gt;Jamin&lt;/a&gt;'s Valentine's Day &lt;a href="http://www.charmingchick.com/catalog/stainless-steel-piano-music-ring-p-1139.html"&gt;present&lt;/a&gt;.  I hope it fits properly.&lt;br /&gt;- I may have gone a little bit overboard with the links.  But I can't believe I haven't used them until now!  I am just making up for lost time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8423349073155651407?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8423349073155651407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8423349073155651407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8423349073155651407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8423349073155651407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/01/linkapalooza.html' title='Linkapalooza'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-980699924724125711</id><published>2009-01-13T13:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T13:54:22.908-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>What a way to start the day...</title><content type='html'>Someone at work (not someone who called, someone I work with) made me cry today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I really feel like I can't do anything right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;edit:&lt;br /&gt;But you know what?  I have lots of soap, and I can wash off the bird poop.&lt;br /&gt;(I just came across the thing I wrote for the camp page, by the way.  That wasn't an entirely random tangent.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that my coworker is bird poop.&lt;br /&gt;Heh.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-980699924724125711?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/980699924724125711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=980699924724125711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/980699924724125711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/980699924724125711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-way-to-start-day.html' title='What a way to start the day...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2243225177096271112</id><published>2009-01-12T14:27:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T14:46:07.420-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cara'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Becca'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='knitting'/><title type='text'>Define: Hodgepodge</title><content type='html'>Cara ended up with just probation, which is awesome.  She was kind of bummed she can't drink or do drugs while on probation, but I told her I felt that it was probably for the best that she doesn't.  Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had lunch with my friend Leah yesterday, and we talked a little bit about camp, and I got to tell her the story of JD and Becca dropping a boat on me, which made me want to be out there super bad (out there being camp, not squished between boats).  Lucky for me, I am going next weekend!  And the one after that as well.  I am super excited, and Becca is super jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told me she was going to be gone the last weekend of January, and I said I would be at camp, and she said, "Oh good, then we won't miss each other."  I said, "...por quoi?  We are not allowed to miss each other when we are not at school?"  And she was all "You know what I meant," huff huff.   And now that I am thinking about it, I think 'por' is Spanish, and 'quoi' is French.  Oops.  But Becca didn't make sense either, so...yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That last paragraph was ridiculous.  But I am leaving it anyway.  Sorry.  Ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started knitting a sweater.  I'm not sure that this was a good idea, given my history of screwing things up (badly) on the first try.  My first scarf looked like a chimney because I accidentally created 10 more stitches than there were supposed to be, so when I gradually dropped them out it got a lot narrower.  My next new thing was a hat, which ended up being totally conehead-esque.  The one after that wasn't so good either: I was concentrating so hard on not knitting so tightly that it ended up being way too loose, and there's a bit of a hole at the top.  The next type of hat I made was actually not too bad, but it was still in the hat realm, so that probably had something to do with it.  We'll see how the sweater goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also paranoid that because I did not buy the 10 skeins of yarn that the pattern said I would need all at once, that when I finish the ones that I did buy, I'll go back to the store and discover they do not make that color anymore.  And then my sweater will look ridiculous, because if I get 3 skeins of yarn into it I am NOT stopping just because of a color issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember having something I wanted to write about yesterday, but I can't remember what it was anymore.  I bet it will come to me during class, after which I will promptly forget again.  Ahwell, c'est la vie, amigos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2243225177096271112?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2243225177096271112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2243225177096271112' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2243225177096271112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2243225177096271112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/01/define-hodgepodge.html' title='Define: Hodgepodge'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1564125271162640053</id><published>2009-01-06T23:43:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T12:12:37.871-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='room'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cara'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Define: Relieved</title><content type='html'>So like, 3 days after we left school for Christmas break, I had this feeling that I remembered seeing an orange sitting on a tub in my room, and I also distinctly remembered forgetting to do something with it. I was having nightmares that I would get back and when I opened the door mold would pour out and devour me alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that it would smell like death times four.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I got back today, there was an orange on the tub.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But fortunately, and surprisingly, and miraculously, it was not gross at all! It was just a little bit wrinkly! And if I hadn't known it had been sitting out for three weeks, I would have said it had only been a day or two! I still totally threw it away though, erlack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate got some apples in like, mid-September and put them in our fridge. When we took them out at the end of the second week in December, they were still totally good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when Jamin got me roses, they lasted for a ridiculous amount of time. One even started to sprout!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a magical room that kills living plants (in record time!) and keeps fruit from spoiling.&lt;br /&gt;Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, Erin says the orange was not hers, and I am 99% sure it was not mine.  Someone is trying to sabotage us.  Or forgot their orange in our room on accident.  Either one of those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, Cara has court on Thursday.  There are six charges, two of which are felonies.  There's also a possibility that one of the police officers she hit will press charges, making it three felonies.&lt;br /&gt;She's really scared.  I didn't know what to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1564125271162640053?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1564125271162640053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1564125271162640053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1564125271162640053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1564125271162640053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2009/01/define-relieved.html' title='Define: Relieved'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4485259020183336713</id><published>2008-12-31T01:49:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T02:33:28.261-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cara'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>Define: Different</title><content type='html'>Things were different when Cara moved in with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember quite when it was, but after a while, I was glad to have her around.  We were pretty close for a while.  After I was at camp all summer and went to Spring Arbor, things weren't the same, but we were still friends.  This year, she and my stepsister moved out to their own apartment in Ypsilanti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cara has anger issues; there are a few holes in our walls that weren't there before she moved in.  My parents weren't happy, but they were just walls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight my dad told me that last night she got drunk and beat up my stepsister, trashed their apartment, started a fight with another friend, and then fought the police when they showed up.  They arrested her then, and released her tonight.  My stepmom told her she's not welcome at the apartment, and I'm going to assume that she's not particularly welcome at our house either.  Cara's mom picked her up from jail, and it sounds like Cara will be going back to living with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She came to our house to get out of a bad family situation, and I don't know how things will be for her since she's going back.  &lt;br /&gt;Part of me is scared that I won't see her again.&lt;br /&gt;I still have her Christmas present.&lt;br /&gt;Would it be awkward for me to give it to her now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are different again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4485259020183336713?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4485259020183336713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4485259020183336713' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4485259020183336713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4485259020183336713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/12/define-undefinable.html' title='Define: Different'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7595751055161188142</id><published>2008-12-16T14:40:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T14:44:44.173-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='busy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Christmas shopping is getting crazy...</title><content type='html'>There are eight people to shop for for my immediate family, then seven from my not-really-related-to-me-but-I've-known-them-my-whole-life-and-we-say-we're-family family, plus Jamin and the three girls from my small group (which I got, wrapped, and gave before leaving school).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a dent in the rest of it yesterday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7595751055161188142?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7595751055161188142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7595751055161188142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7595751055161188142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7595751055161188142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-shopping-is-getting-crazy.html' title='Christmas shopping is getting crazy...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8556956786651391866</id><published>2008-12-10T06:11:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T06:13:53.765-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>It's Wednesday!</title><content type='html'>I told Becca if I ever volunteer to work these hours again to slap me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excluding Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two more hours, then I'll only have four things left to do before I am done...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone fell asleep on the floor, and when he woke up he had the carpet grains imprinted on his face.  It made me feel a little better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8556956786651391866?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8556956786651391866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8556956786651391866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8556956786651391866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8556956786651391866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/12/its-wednesday.html' title='It&apos;s Wednesday!'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8729267517860302629</id><published>2008-12-08T19:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T19:39:37.360-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='break'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>So close...</title><content type='html'>This is it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12am-2am Tuesday: Library Helpdesk&lt;br /&gt;7:45am-9am Tuesday: Philosophy of Ministry&lt;br /&gt;10am-12pm Tuesday: Biology lab final&lt;br /&gt;12pm-2pm Tuesday: Greek study session&lt;br /&gt;2am-8am Wednesday: Library Helpdesk&lt;br /&gt;1pm-3pm Wednesday: Greek final&lt;br /&gt;1pm-3pm Thursday: Biology final&lt;br /&gt;3pm-5pm Thursday: Helpdesk&lt;br /&gt;2am-8am Friday: Library Helpdesk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel that if I can make it to 3:00 Thursday I will be all set.&lt;br /&gt;Then to my aunt's with Becca Friday evening, and SBC with Nurse Ann on Saturday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And procrastinating.&lt;br /&gt;I should go write my paper now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8729267517860302629?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8729267517860302629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8729267517860302629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8729267517860302629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8729267517860302629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-close.html' title='So close...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8946341998944215361</id><published>2008-12-06T13:41:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T13:41:39.287-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='greek'/><title type='text'>Define: Headache</title><content type='html'>My greek exam is on Wednesday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8946341998944215361?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8946341998944215361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8946341998944215361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8946341998944215361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8946341998944215361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/12/define-headache.html' title='Define: Headache'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2094404724968585076</id><published>2008-12-02T16:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T16:54:35.711-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ministry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='career'/><title type='text'>I can't think of a title.</title><content type='html'>A social work class on campus is collecting beauty supplies to donate to local women's shelters and agencies.  I went to Target today and spent a little over $60 on things to give.  And then I wondered how much I spend on myself in a year.  Probably more than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard about a church who did a ministry to single mothers, babysitting their children while women from the congregation who were hairdressers and such gave them makeovers.  I think that would be a really cool thing to do.  More than once I have thought it would be neat to be a hairdresser, and this made me think about it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, if the haircut that I gave my Barbie was any indication of my skill, maybe not...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note (ish), in eighth grade my class went out to JCC's Career Center, where we walked through some of the classes and saw what they did.  I mistakenly signed up for cosmetology, reading it as 'cometology' (at this point I'd had my heart set on being an astronaut).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was a letdown.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2094404724968585076?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2094404724968585076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2094404724968585076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2094404724968585076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2094404724968585076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-cant-think-of-title.html' title='I can&apos;t think of a title.'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2416931943212947431</id><published>2008-11-24T18:48:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T18:49:42.656-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='break'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>This produces good character, right?</title><content type='html'>It is going to be so hard to get up tomorrow and go to my class and 7:45.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it will probably be even harder to go to my biology lab after, where we're going to be dissecting a fetal pig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as soon as that's over, I'm outta here.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2416931943212947431?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2416931943212947431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2416931943212947431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2416931943212947431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2416931943212947431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-produces-good-character-right.html' title='This produces good character, right?'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-3376289771764935832</id><published>2008-11-19T11:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T11:55:42.054-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cold'/><title type='text'>Okay...</title><content type='html'>...I'm ready for winter to be over now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-3376289771764935832?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/3376289771764935832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=3376289771764935832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3376289771764935832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3376289771764935832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/11/okay.html' title='Okay...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-5067976964887922143</id><published>2008-11-17T16:08:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T16:17:50.179-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spring Arbor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>I have come to find...</title><content type='html'>...that, surprisingly, the rudest calls I get at the Help Desk are from Spring Arbor staff.  I actually had someone hang up on me on Friday.  She was angry because she couldn't send e-mails.  I told her that one of our servers wasn't working properly, and we were doing emergency repairs at noon (it was probably around 11 when this happened).  She was very short with me and told me that she was in contact with such and such and needed to send e-mails.  I told her that everyone using a Spring Arbor e-mail was having this problem, and we were going to do repairs at noon.  She got ruder, so said, "We're doing repairs at noon, but I will check to see if there is anything else I can do."  I put her on hold, and just waited for a few seconds.  I had just asked my supervisor about the problem, because the person before her had called with the same thing.  He was on a call, and I knew there was nothing he could do, so I got back on the line, and said, "I'm sorry, we're going to be doing repairs at noon, and that will fix the problem."  She didn't say anything for about 5 seconds, and then I heard her say, "Yes, can you connect me to *name*?"  She was calling someone else while she was on the phone with me!  Then she said, "Well I'm getting in contact with our person here because I need my e-mail (she wasn't on the main campus)."  I started to say, "I'm sorry I couldn't be more help," but she hung up while I was talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to call her back and tell her that her inside man couldn't do anything, because the server on main campus was down, and she would have to wait, just like the guy before her who called and was nice about it, and that being rude to me didn't get her anywhere with her problem, but that I did include it in the problem ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A close second for rude people is adult students.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never had a bad call with a younger student, they're really nice about everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-5067976964887922143?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/5067976964887922143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=5067976964887922143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5067976964887922143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5067976964887922143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-have-come-to-find.html' title='I have come to find...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4577994731554073462</id><published>2008-11-13T19:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T19:23:11.889-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poop'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sunshine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><title type='text'>Poop and Sunshine</title><content type='html'>One morning at camp, a bird pooped on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, this was a literal event, but we all kind of feel as if we've been pooped on sometimes, don't we?  Sometimes we're standing under a tree in the beautiful morning light, minding our own business, when someone drops something unexpected on us.  It's not our fault, but we do have a choice about what to do with it.  We can let it ruin our day, crying to everyone who will listen about the mess that we've been left to deal with, hiding our face in embarrassment, or we can walk to the bathroom, wash it off (making sure to use lots and LOTS of soap), and move on.  Nobody wants to be pooped on, but sometimes it’s beyond our control.  You can choose not to stand under trees just like you can carefully choose the crowd you hang out with, but birds don’t just poop while they’re sitting in trees.  You could choose to never go outside again, or always have an umbrella above your head, but what kind of life is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately, you’re probably going to get pooped on at some point (maybe not literally, but figuratively).  And when that happens, you’ll have a choice.  I challenge you to go wash it off, and go on with your day.  And even if more bad things happen, like you twist your ankle or the battery in your watch dies, it’s not the end of the world.  Next time you go down those stairs, watch out for the step that got you last time, and go get a new battery for your watch.  Even when more and more things seem to be piling up, it won’t stay that way forever.  Take it one step at a time and keep on living your life.  Don’t be afraid to go outside because of the bird poop; don’t hold an umbrella over your head all the time: you’ll never feel the warmth of the sun on your face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I challenge you to throw open your front door and go outside.  Don’t be afraid of what could happen, live for what is happening and let the sun shine on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just make sure that you’ve got some sunscreen handy, and lots of soap, just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-jodi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4577994731554073462?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4577994731554073462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4577994731554073462' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4577994731554073462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4577994731554073462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/11/poop-and-sunshine.html' title='Poop and Sunshine'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-3933803282169269253</id><published>2008-11-12T16:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T16:50:31.993-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='goldfish'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='epic'/><title type='text'>Define: Epic</title><content type='html'>Last time one of our goldfish died (Mittens, to be specific), we borrowed a trumpet and I played the most pathetic Taps you've ever heard when we flushed her.  Him?  I don't think we ever decided.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, we decided that the next time, we should actually bury the fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we did not have to wait long, unfortunately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eustace has passed on (Victoria did too, but I've been sick and we just flushed her), and today we shall bury him outside of Casey Mellinger's window whilst belting out My Heart Will Go On.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will be epic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-3933803282169269253?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/3933803282169269253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=3933803282169269253' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3933803282169269253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3933803282169269253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/11/define-epic.html' title='Define: Epic'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2523523820677275872</id><published>2008-11-05T16:28:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T16:45:44.254-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><title type='text'>Happy day a la birth, Vati!</title><content type='html'>It's my dad's birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made him these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-e.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v372/239/42/1260180041/n1260180041_177364_8147.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 511px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-e.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v372/239/42/1260180041/n1260180041_177364_8147.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v372/239/42/1260180041/n1260180041_177363_7872.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v372/239/42/1260180041/n1260180041_177363_7872.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in them will go these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v208/213/117/1249680069/n1249680069_30080993_2671.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 453px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v208/213/117/1249680069/n1249680069_30080993_2671.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-e.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v307/172/47/1187612462/n1187612462_129444_8727.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-e.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v307/172/47/1187612462/n1187612462_129444_8727.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, story behind the "Uhh..." frame:&lt;br /&gt;For my sister's wedding, we had to walk down the aisle with the groomsmen holding our wrist/elbow in this weird way, and it didn't work the same way on the way out.  Plus, my brother stuck his arm out funny for me, so I didn't know what to do.  We tried for a second, then I made a ridiculous confused face, and everyone started laughing.  Someone managed to catch it on camera, and it's on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=129438&amp;op=12&amp;o=global&amp;view=global&amp;subj=1260180041&amp;id=1187612462"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, albeit a little blurry.  We recreated the moment later, which is the picture I'm putting in frame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aww, I wish they weren't all weird and chopped off...&lt;br /&gt;If you click on them you can see the whole picture.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2523523820677275872?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2523523820677275872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2523523820677275872' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2523523820677275872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2523523820677275872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/11/happy-day-la-birth-vati.html' title='Happy day a la birth, Vati!'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1440650942965202435</id><published>2008-11-03T16:51:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T17:10:58.237-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ministry'/><title type='text'>"Are you sure you can't be pregnant?"  "Well, I did hold hands with a boy yesterday..."</title><content type='html'>Today, for the first time in a long time, a medical person believed me when I told them that there was no way I could be pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When someone doesn't believe me and keeps asking, it typically really bothers me that they think I'm lying and that I am running around having wild and crazy unprotected sex.  But then after I get over it, it strikes me as being really sad that they can't believe me.  How often do they have patients lie to them and tell them that they can't be pregnant, only to find out later that they are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're living in a time where that has to be common, probably even normal, and that breaks my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love to do a ministry working with young/teen girls where they are just loved and sincerely told that they are beautiful.  I want to find a way to tell girls that they don't have to show 90% of their skin to be attractive; that they don't have to sleep with a guy to get love; that they can do something with their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that our culture has got it all wrong, and the young ones are paying for it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1440650942965202435?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1440650942965202435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1440650942965202435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1440650942965202435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1440650942965202435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/11/are-you-sure-youre-not-pregnant-well-i.html' title='&quot;Are you sure you can&apos;t be pregnant?&quot;  &quot;Well, I did hold hands with a boy yesterday...&quot;'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1382541318969525794</id><published>2008-10-28T09:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T09:26:20.962-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Define: ...what?</title><content type='html'>My teacher actually wrote "LOL!" on my paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mind blown.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1382541318969525794?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1382541318969525794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1382541318969525794' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1382541318969525794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1382541318969525794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/10/define-what.html' title='Define: ...what?'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7055409733801639007</id><published>2008-10-27T09:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T09:11:25.797-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Define: Hopeless</title><content type='html'>I don't think I've ever felt this hopeless about school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greek is so much harder than I thought it would be.  I really had no idea what I was getting myself into.  This, combined with a growing desire to not get a degree, is causing a lot of stress and frustration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than Greek my classes are fine.  There was a point earlier this semester when I felt totally overwhelmed, but now I feel like I can handle it.  Except for Greek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dread Mondays; I live for the weekends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't finish the semester like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7055409733801639007?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7055409733801639007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7055409733801639007' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7055409733801639007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7055409733801639007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/10/define-hopeless.html' title='Define: Hopeless'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8886417883580306670</id><published>2008-10-24T15:26:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T15:27:16.497-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry...</title><content type='html'>Oops, now that link in the post before this actually goes somewhere.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8886417883580306670?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8886417883580306670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8886417883580306670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8886417883580306670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8886417883580306670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/10/sorry.html' title='Sorry...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7893504980753629652</id><published>2008-10-22T20:05:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T15:26:21.511-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='project'/><title type='text'>Presenting: Something I do when I'm bored</title><content type='html'>I'm starting a new project.  Maybe this will launch me to instant fame and I will write a book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or draw a book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://embellishedforhumor.blogspot.com"&gt;Embellished for Humor Only&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7893504980753629652?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7893504980753629652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7893504980753629652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7893504980753629652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7893504980753629652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/10/presenting-something-i-do-when-im-bored.html' title='Presenting: Something I do when I&apos;m bored'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-3717514836625113728</id><published>2008-10-21T01:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T01:52:13.308-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><title type='text'>T minus 8 minutes til bed...</title><content type='html'>I am getting ahead on some of the weekly articles we have to do for one of my classes.  We turn one in tomorrow (well, I guess it's today now...), and I've got the next two weeks done already.  And I've got my biology article done for next week.  If only these were the big projects instead of the busy work...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am finally getting the hang of Mondays.  I just have to keep myself busy during the 12:00-2:00 am shift, and I'm alright.  Last week I didn't come in with homework, and I almost didn't make it.  Maybe by next Monday I'll be done with my articles for the semester!  That would be really exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish it would stop being cold.  I'm ready for summer already.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-3717514836625113728?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/3717514836625113728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=3717514836625113728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3717514836625113728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3717514836625113728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/10/t-minus-8-minutes-til-bed.html' title='T minus 8 minutes til bed...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-5114074746466634556</id><published>2008-10-14T01:42:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T01:45:34.710-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>Define: Oops...</title><content type='html'>While I was working at the Helpdesk today, someone called from the Fieldhouse and said, "Can you connect me to the Holton Health Center?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't sure why they called the Helpdesk for that; personally, I probably would have called the switchboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, I wasn't about to deny them, so I said, "Yep, let me look up the extension...okay, I'll transfer you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I hit the "Transfer" button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only to discover .5 seconds later that it was actually the "End Call" button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-5114074746466634556?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/5114074746466634556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=5114074746466634556' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5114074746466634556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5114074746466634556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/10/define-oops.html' title='Define: Oops...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-3908588665922613076</id><published>2008-10-08T20:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T20:33:24.774-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><title type='text'>Define: Unfair</title><content type='html'>Why do teachers assign group projects?  They know the workload is going to be unfair, right?  They were students once, don't they remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got stuck with putting together the powerpoint and bibliography for our presentation tomorrow, and I'm scared.  Allison and I did what we were supposed to, but no one else did.  One kid hasn't even been to any of our group meetings.  No one has heard anything from him about it.  And I am NOT staying up until 2 in the morning waiting for people to e-mail me their slides.  I told everyone to have it to me today by 3:30.  I have other things to do, and it's not fair for me to have to wait around for their stuff.  I'm afraid that this is going to cause a problem in the morning if someone did send me their stuff at 3 am, but is that really my responsibility?  I gave them a deadline.  Our class is at 7:45, the library won't even be open yet for me to combine the slides before class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm even more scared about the written part; I'm not sure if anyone besides Allison and I will even do it at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And naturally we have to present first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-3908588665922613076?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/3908588665922613076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=3908588665922613076' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3908588665922613076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3908588665922613076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/10/define-unfair.html' title='Define: Unfair'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-648710358629565816</id><published>2008-10-07T01:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T01:04:53.348-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tired'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='knitting'/><title type='text'>Oh goodness...</title><content type='html'>I don't know how I am going to make it through Mondays for the rest of the semester.  I'm pretty concerned about making it through the next hour, actually.  I try to sleep between my 4-8 shift and this one, but my body just won't have it, so by the time I get out of here I am a zombie.  And I have a 7:45 am class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ergh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I'm not super behind on homework right now.&lt;br /&gt;And I am knitting a cool hat.  Well, it will theoretically be cool.  It's a bit trickier than I thought it would be.  But I don't think it'll be too bad... I'm gonna wear it either way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-648710358629565816?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/648710358629565816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=648710358629565816' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/648710358629565816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/648710358629565816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/10/oh-goodness.html' title='Oh goodness...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-6169562541295377607</id><published>2008-10-03T08:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T08:29:53.284-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='computer'/><title type='text'>Hurrah!</title><content type='html'>Someone from the Help Desk had extra hard drive, and I am excited to say that I am writing this from my laptop!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-6169562541295377607?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/6169562541295377607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=6169562541295377607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6169562541295377607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6169562541295377607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/10/hurrah.html' title='Hurrah!'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4828059630813997905</id><published>2008-09-29T23:54:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T23:57:26.526-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='computer'/><title type='text'>Why is my technology turning against me?</title><content type='html'>A day or two after my hard drive crash I tried using my mp3 player because I hadn't listened to any music since my computer died.  And of course it's dead now too.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I exhausted my recovery options for the hard drive, nothing worked.  So this morning I gave it to Tom, and he erased it.  I actually teared up, it was really hard.  However, after the erase, it still didn't work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I am either buying a new hard drive or selling the parts of my laptop to buy a new one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Either way, it monetarily hurts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:/&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4828059630813997905?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4828059630813997905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4828059630813997905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4828059630813997905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4828059630813997905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/09/why-is-my-technology-turning-against-me.html' title='Why is my technology turning against me?'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4074994345259674261</id><published>2008-09-26T21:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T21:17:04.955-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='computer'/><title type='text'>Define: Crushed</title><content type='html'>My hard drive crashed on Wednesday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't  backed up since I got to school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4074994345259674261?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4074994345259674261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4074994345259674261' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4074994345259674261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4074994345259674261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/09/define-crushed.html' title='Define: Crushed'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-8464179774948049816</id><published>2008-09-22T19:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T19:43:28.629-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><title type='text'>Argh.</title><content type='html'>I really hate &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Younger-Evangelicals-Facing-Challenges-World/dp/0801091527/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1222126918&amp;amp;sr=8-1"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; book.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-8464179774948049816?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/8464179774948049816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=8464179774948049816' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8464179774948049816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/8464179774948049816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/09/argh.html' title='Argh.'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7639947736180244126</id><published>2008-09-19T20:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T20:27:37.665-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='opinions'/><title type='text'>Sometimes...</title><content type='html'>...I really wish I cared less about what people thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7639947736180244126?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7639947736180244126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7639947736180244126' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7639947736180244126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7639947736180244126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/09/sometimes.html' title='Sometimes...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-6388143816942262789</id><published>2008-09-15T16:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T16:30:47.021-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chapel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jamin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Define: Shameless Plug</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0F9ZoGJmnf8"&gt;This&lt;/a&gt; is what I did this morning.  :)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am still excited about Greek, not so excited about the grammar part of it.  It's brought me to tears more than once, but today's class helped a lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am surviving another Monday, probably not as gracefully as one might hope, but I am surviving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-6388143816942262789?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/6388143816942262789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=6388143816942262789' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6388143816942262789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6388143816942262789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/09/define-shameless-plug.html' title='Define: Shameless Plug'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-5307791409273860702</id><published>2008-09-06T11:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T11:24:01.800-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><title type='text'>Define: Crap Timing</title><content type='html'>I am currently working at the Help Desk in the library.  My computer wasn't loading Etsy when I tried to look at it yesterday or the day before, but I wasn't really concerned.  It was sad, but not a huge problem.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This morning, MSN messenger kept telling me my username didn't exist or my password was wrong.  Which made no sense, because I have it set so that it saves my username and password and automatically logs me on.  After I tried it manually a time or three, I gave up, it wasn't that big of a deal.  So I tried to check my hotmail from www.hotmail.com.  That didn't load.  At all.  Which was also really strange.  So I tried it on the computer next to me.  Which also wouldn't load it.  As I was trying to figure it out, someone else in the lab was having the same problem.  I told her I was working on it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I did, for a long time, but I can't figure it out.  I called someone off campus, theirs is fine.  I tried msn.com, which also didn't work.  I called my roommate, she couldn't get it to work either.  So MSN/Hotmail/Microsoft things that are online/Etsy are not able to be accessed from campus at this time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And none of the faculty techs will be back in until Monday morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This would happen while I was working.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:/&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-5307791409273860702?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/5307791409273860702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=5307791409273860702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5307791409273860702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5307791409273860702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/09/define-crap-timing.html' title='Define: Crap Timing'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-4066966492469498733</id><published>2008-09-06T10:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T10:25:20.733-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='greek'/><title type='text'>Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta...</title><content type='html'>I'm really excited about Greek.  We learned the alphabet yesterday, and then in my next class my teacher pulled up the Great Commission, in Greek, and I knew what some of the letters were!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I felt sweet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-4066966492469498733?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/4066966492469498733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=4066966492469498733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4066966492469498733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/4066966492469498733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/09/alpha-beta-gamma-delta.html' title='Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-3549057532524261556</id><published>2008-09-02T20:16:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T20:22:20.601-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='busy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Define: Booked</title><content type='html'>I got my work schedule.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Monday, Biology starts at 9:00 and goes until 10:00.  Right after that is Chapel until a little after 11:00.  At 11:00 I am scheduled to work at the Help Desk in the Library until 1:00, which is when Greek starts.  It ends at 2:30, but I stay there for Introduction to Missions at 2:40 (Did I mention that all of my classes are in the same two rooms except for my Biology Lab?  I think that one is next door.).  That gets over at 3:40, just in time for me to go to the computer lab in the Student Center to work the 4:00-8:00 shift.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My plan is to go back to my room, set the alarm for 11:45 pm, pass out, and then sleep until 11:45 so I can make it to the library to work from midnight to 2 am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I'll go pass out again until about 7:30 am so I can be on time to my 7:45 class Tuesday morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mondays are gonna be extra rough this semester.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-3549057532524261556?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/3549057532524261556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=3549057532524261556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3549057532524261556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/3549057532524261556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/09/define-booked.html' title='Define: Booked'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-2048840703667722344</id><published>2008-08-31T23:49:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T00:35:03.851-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>It's been a while...</title><content type='html'>I feel like I should be getting back into this.  I miss it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But since I haven't done it lately I don't know where to begin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've got my laptop back now.  It's been on the fritz since May.  My dad got it working again.  Except that when you put the battery in, it goes to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Which is bizarre.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But other than that, it works, and I am glad.  Especially since school is starting in a few days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Which is another topic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the time I finish buying books for this semester, I'll have spent about $400.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Not sweet.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I am pretty excited about my classes.  Elementary New Testament Greek, Philosophy of Ministry, Introduction to Missions, and Biology.  Well, I'm excited about everything but Biology.  Especially since the two books I need are $100 apiece.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My job this year is going to be a little harder too.  Last year I worked for the Help Desk, but I didn't actually work at the Help Desk, I just worked in the labs.  Which was cool, cause I didn't think I could handle trying to help people over the phone.  But this year I'm working at the Help Desk, and I am terrified.  I don't really know &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; much about fixing computers, and I feel like it'll be harder over the phone.  Plus, my boss is going to listen in to one of our calls every month and evaluate us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm scared.  I think I will have the people skills to be able to handle it.  I don't think I have the technology skills to be able to handle it.  I'm not really sure which is more important.  Hopefully the former.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I should probably get to bed soon.  Freshmen move in  tomorrow, and I have to work NSO.  Which I think stands for New Student Organization, but in Technology Services, it means No Student Offline.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh how clever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-2048840703667722344?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/2048840703667722344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=2048840703667722344' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2048840703667722344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/2048840703667722344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/08/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s been a while...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-6850690387375648390</id><published>2008-07-01T21:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T21:20:37.981-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Monday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poop'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='paintball'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fire'/><title type='text'>Monday Morning Blues...</title><content type='html'>Do you want to know what happened last Monday morning at camp?  Of course you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, my watch died. Which stinks, because I have to be certain places at certain times, and that's harder when you don't know what time it is. Next, I took my cabin down to the Cedar Center for breakfast. When we were done praying, I said, "Amen." Then something hit my nose. I figured it was water from the tree above me. It was still morning, there's dew and all that, right? I wiped it off with my finger, and looked. Brown, with a hint of white. Yes, that's right, bird poop. On my face. On the way back to the cabin after breakfast, I hardcore twisted my ankle. During classes, Becca and I got to drive the golf cart around and take pictures. As we were driving, we noticed this smell. It smelled like something burning, but we figured it was a campfire (which we did think was a little strange, because it was pretty early and we didn't see one). When we got to the paintball class, my boss Kyle said he was going to ride back with us. While we were walking to the golf cart, I was telling Kyle what had happened earlier. A few feet from the golf cart, we realized that it was smoking. Kyle summed it up nicely: "Well, that's not good..." He walked up and picked up my bag. Now, you need to understand, I've had this bag for a year. It's hot pink with black cats all over it, and I love it. It's a cinch top backpack that my friend Leah's mom made for me. When Kyle picked it up, we saw that one of the straps had been singed off. Kyle and Becca looked at me, and I didn't know what to do, so I started laughing, and so did they. What kills me is that Becca and I SMELLED IT BURNING, we just didn't know what it was. No wonder the smell was following us around camp. After stomping out the rest of the embers on the strap, we got back on the golf cart and went down to the main part of camp again. On the way back to the cabins to get ready for lunch, I was telling Jon my day up until that point, and I was showing him where I twisted my ankle, and lo and behold, I twist the other one on the following step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this before lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, Tuesday, I was out taking pictures again. I was wearing a bright orange shirt when I went out to the paintball course. I thought it would be cool to get some pictures out in the field, so I informed all the boys that I would be out there, wearing my bright orange shirt and a white towel tied on my arm (theirs were red and blue to mark teams). I told them I wouldn't be hiding, I'd be out in the open, and asked them to please not shoot me because I had the camp's camera (although sometimes I wish we had a different one...). All was well for a while, until I got between the two teams. The blue team waved me past them so that they could shoot at the reds, so I walked right past them. They knew I was there, they'd just waved me past. And it was literally right past them, we were barely ten feet apart. So I got past their line, and then someone from the blue team turned around and shot me. I yelled, and everyone was like, "Who shot the girl?!" The boy said that it was an accident, but I don't know. The thing is, he didn't fire like, four shots and one of them hit me. It was a single shot, square on the shoulder. He totally aimed, and he HAD to see that it was an orange shirt. Plus, I JUST walked past them. It splattered in my hair and all over my neck, and some even made it into my mouth. It was loooooovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, other than that, I had an amazing week. That was my best week counseling out of this year and last, and I wouldn't change a thing.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-6850690387375648390?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/6850690387375648390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=6850690387375648390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6850690387375648390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/6850690387375648390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/07/monday-morning-blues.html' title='Monday Morning Blues...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-5983708335450935318</id><published>2008-05-10T05:59:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T06:16:32.363-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='morning'/><title type='text'>Crack O' Dawn</title><content type='html'>I told my boss I was willing to help in the library now that it's supposed to be open 24 hours for exam week.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was scheduled to work from 6 am to 8 am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here I am, outside the library, where the ID swipe &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;won't let me in.  &lt;/span&gt;I hope it's just because I accidentally got here early.  Something better change at 6.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I usually work 5 pm - 9 pm on Saturdays, and I said I could cover 9 pm to 2 am as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's gonna be a long day...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Update:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm in, no one is here, and I can't find the light switch.  It is really creepy in here...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-5983708335450935318?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/5983708335450935318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=5983708335450935318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5983708335450935318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/5983708335450935318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/05/crack-o-dawn.html' title='Crack O&apos; Dawn'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-1644333591897051591</id><published>2008-04-30T20:48:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T20:56:25.699-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><title type='text'>Define: Subjectless</title><content type='html'>Lately it has been really hard for me to stay focused on finishing this semester.  The assignments seem to be getting more and more pointless, and due dates for big projects aren't creeping up on me, they are tackling me out of nowhere.  I think it's going to be harder to finish the spring semester here than it ever was at JCC, which is really strange.  I had problems being motivated &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at all&lt;/span&gt; while I was at JCC.  But, you gotta do what you gotta do, so I guess I'll stick with it and try.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm missing Porchfest tonight.  It's like the biggest campus event of the year.  My brother called to ask me if I could work for him in the library tonight, and I said yes.  I didn't really want to go to Porchfest anyway, but judging from how upset I am about having to work during it, I think I was subconsciously planning on letting myself be talked into going.  Plus, my whole small group (minus me) is in it, and I'm going to miss seeing them perform.  :/&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So instead, I guess I'm throwing myself a pity party, which isn't the way to go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Someone's cell phone is going off and it's really obnoxious.  Most people jump to answer their phones when they go off.  And it seems like they'd do that even quicker in the library.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess they just really like this song...?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Camp needs to get here soon.  I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cannot wait&lt;/span&gt; to be back out there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-1644333591897051591?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/1644333591897051591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=1644333591897051591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1644333591897051591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/1644333591897051591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/04/define-subjectless.html' title='Define: Subjectless'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5958772505024745418.post-7248706607295818925</id><published>2008-04-26T07:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T07:37:22.262-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tired'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='realization'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whining'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='morning'/><title type='text'>Today I realized...</title><content type='html'>...that 7:05 A.M. is a LOT earlier than I thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5958772505024745418-7248706607295818925?l=defineawkward.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/feeds/7248706607295818925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5958772505024745418&amp;postID=7248706607295818925' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7248706607295818925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5958772505024745418/posts/default/7248706607295818925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://defineawkward.blogspot.com/2008/04/today-i-realized.html' title='Today I realized...'/><author><name>Jodi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05556454779052502852</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SbFrpiaG-gE/SdU1eBaYaqI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ItuGYoRNaYY/s1600-R/2634_1122526064255_1260180041_364496_2402551_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
