<?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-5435699984218275818</id><updated>2012-02-17T00:44:42.501Z</updated><title type='text'>In my dream world</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09917550313878626164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB6_amXTh7I/AAAAAAAAAAM/nFzFuiqZGAA/S220/s666480929_1190405_7580%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5435699984218275818.post-5334901806062594402</id><published>2008-09-16T19:22:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T19:33:13.563+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Environmentally friendly</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;We live in a world where we are encouraged by large companies to protect the environment by recycling and reusing, T&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;escos&lt;/span&gt; has plastic bag recycling bins, Co-op doesn't give out bags unless you ask for one, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; cash machines always ask if you want a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;receipt&lt;/span&gt; and give a warning about the environment, most supermarkets sell heavy duty, reusable carrier bags.  Now I think this is excellent and we should all do all we can to help with this cause.  So why I just have to ask is first bus company giving out useless paper tickets to people with bus passes!!!  They have never done this before as far as I am aware, so why start just when everyone else is becoming more aware.  Is this now a permanent thing on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;buses&lt;/span&gt; or was it just this one driver that i saw today that was giving out tickets to bus pass holders????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5435699984218275818-5334901806062594402?l=emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5334901806062594402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5435699984218275818&amp;postID=5334901806062594402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/5334901806062594402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/5334901806062594402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/2008/09/environmentally-friendly.html' title='Environmentally friendly'/><author><name>emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09917550313878626164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB6_amXTh7I/AAAAAAAAAAM/nFzFuiqZGAA/S220/s666480929_1190405_7580%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5435699984218275818.post-7758297041676274370</id><published>2008-05-15T21:19:00.012+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T00:26:44.460+01:00</updated><title type='text'>recurrent premonition dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;In my lifetime I believe that I have had two, maybe three, premonition type dreams. And even stranger they were both recurrent. The first was when was about 13 so I was never that sure whether it really was a premonition or not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200724164005476738" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 324px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 291px" height="250" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCyvEpJWOYI/AAAAAAAAADM/Vhn8blHlvBM/s320/GIANT%2520TORTOISE%2520GALAPAGO%5B1%5D.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;It was about a giant tortoise roaming around Worcester, causing general&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mayhem and destruction. Everyone was terrified of it and would hide when they heard it coming. It was about the size of a house. So one day my mum, sister, aunt and myself were sat playing monopoly on he floor beneath the window in the front sitting room or a house that I didn't recognise, when this tortoise comes past and stops right outside the house. At that time I was walking across the room and was terrified that they had seen me. I hid behind a door and watched it. The strangest thing happened, a hatch on the top of the tortoises shell opened and two men climbed out and said " Damn it, we ran out of petrol" at which point the tortoise seemed to shrink to half its original size. And that was the end o the dream. I dreamt this 3 times, shortly after we moved to a new house and it was the house from the dream. How weird is that??? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCyxUpJWOZI/AAAAAAAAADU/a3XhPRvQ2gg/s1600-h/incredible-hulk-77%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200726637906639250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCyxUpJWOZI/AAAAAAAAADU/a3XhPRvQ2gg/s320/incredible-hulk-77%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Second premonitioning dream was about a place that I would go and work at. I had this one at about the age of 19. I don't remember it as clearly as the last one but, it starts with me running around this, quite big, building in the dark, in absolute driving rain, thunder and lightening, and I was carrying a baby boy, just days old. I am running from a monster, something a little like the incredible hulk perhaps with a weapon of some description, i think an axe or spade. So anyway I'm running around, trying to keep me and the baby safe when I come across a patio door which isn't locked. I go in draw the curtains and give the baby to an old lady sat in a chair in this room we got into. I think the monster thing went past the room then the dream ends. It wasn't exactly the same each time which is probably why it isn't quite as clear. The building I was running around in the dream is the residential home for the elderly, that I went on to work at, which is why, maybe, there was an old lady sat in the room, and the room was exactly like one of the rooms in this home, I could almost be sure that it was the same lady that actually lived there in real life. I had this dream more than 3 times it used to wake me sometime before the end, I was terrified throughout the dream and it never got any less scary.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;The third one I mentioned was about the birth of my son, and I'm not entirely sure it was a premonition. I just dreamt that I had a baby boy that was born four weeks prematurely and that I ran away from the hospital with him. The only similarity being, that when I did have my first child it was a boy and he was four weeks early.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200731289356220866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCy1jZJWOcI/AAAAAAAAADs/tN_Vvcays-U/s320/Picture+138.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have lots of dreams about babies, even before I had children. I dream about people having children when they really shouldn't because the aren't fit to look after them, I dreamt once about having a baby girl and I couldn't remember what name I had given her. Katie was one I thought of in the dream, my daughters middle name is Katie&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;em&gt;It just means I like the name Katie.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;As these dreams are the most memerable I thought I would share them and now I am off dream some more. I wonder if anyone else has premonition dreams and why mine were in nightmare form?????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tonight I shall&lt;br /&gt;dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;of cookies and&lt;br /&gt;cream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tonight I shall&lt;br /&gt;dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;of sailing&lt;br /&gt;downstream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tonight I shall dream &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;of a world that's&lt;br /&gt;freed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tonight I shall&lt;br /&gt;dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;of the things I&lt;br /&gt;read.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tonight I shall&lt;br /&gt;dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;of all things nice and&lt;br /&gt;fair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;I don't want to be&lt;br /&gt;woken&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;by a terrible&lt;br /&gt;nightmare!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Ooops, nearly forgot, bacon fact no.&lt;br /&gt;2:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;88.4% of the population bought bacon&lt;br /&gt;rashers in 2007, that’s 21.8 million&lt;br /&gt;households*&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&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/5435699984218275818-7758297041676274370?l=emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/feeds/7758297041676274370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5435699984218275818&amp;postID=7758297041676274370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/7758297041676274370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/7758297041676274370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/2008/05/in-my-lifetime-i-believe-that-i-have.html' title='recurrent premonition dreams'/><author><name>emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09917550313878626164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB6_amXTh7I/AAAAAAAAAAM/nFzFuiqZGAA/S220/s666480929_1190405_7580%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCyvEpJWOYI/AAAAAAAAADM/Vhn8blHlvBM/s72-c/GIANT%2520TORTOISE%2520GALAPAGO%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5435699984218275818.post-5552458572512457989</id><published>2008-05-09T19:21:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T23:12:46.225+01:00</updated><title type='text'>"Bringing home the bacon"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;o To bring home the bacon – there are several possible origins to this&lt;br /&gt;saying. One goes back almost a thousand years to the Essex village&lt;br /&gt;of Dunmow where, it is said, in AD 1111 a noble woman offered a&lt;br /&gt;prize of a side of bacon, known locally as a flitch, to any man from&lt;br /&gt;anywhere in England who could honestly say that he had had&lt;br /&gt;complete marital harmony for the preceding year and a day. In over&lt;br /&gt;500 years there were only eight winners!&lt;br /&gt;An alternative explanation comes from the ancient sport of catching a&lt;br /&gt;greased pig at country fairs. The winner kept the pig and ‘brought&lt;br /&gt;home the bacon’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;This is for the people who want to know about bacon (I came across a certain someone today). With every post, for the next week or two, I am going to give you a fact about British bacon. But the problem is where to start, I've found loads already.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;British bacon fact no.1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Bacon psychology&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;· As bacon is so substantial it brings a distinct advantage to meals. Due to its&lt;br /&gt;intense taste and rich, distinct flavour, it persuades us through messages sent to&lt;br /&gt;the brain by the mouth and taste buds, that we have eaten more than we really&lt;br /&gt;have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Did you even know such a thing as bacon psychology existed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198485912527096354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCS7ZQoMyiI/AAAAAAAAAC8/uzDe2r41d-k/s320/bacon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Please see the related poll to this picture (especially you!) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I answered sometimes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Is the boredom showing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Life expectancy would grow by leaps and bounds if green vegetables smelled as good as bacon." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Doug Larson&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Good night, and here's a question for you;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Will your answer to this question be no?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;please answer in the comments box, nighty night. xx&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5435699984218275818-5552458572512457989?l=emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5552458572512457989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5435699984218275818&amp;postID=5552458572512457989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/5552458572512457989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/5552458572512457989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/2008/05/bringing-home-bacon.html' title='&quot;Bringing home the bacon&quot;'/><author><name>emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09917550313878626164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB6_amXTh7I/AAAAAAAAAAM/nFzFuiqZGAA/S220/s666480929_1190405_7580%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCS7ZQoMyiI/AAAAAAAAAC8/uzDe2r41d-k/s72-c/bacon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5435699984218275818.post-231208704734009954</id><published>2008-05-08T22:56:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T00:39:41.645+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Millenium Falcons??</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCN-52qJ3KI/AAAAAAAAACU/qXi0N3iUTZ0/s1600-h/1330_falcon_noburban15%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198137927305649314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCN-52qJ3KI/AAAAAAAAACU/qXi0N3iUTZ0/s320/1330_falcon_noburban15%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In the city centre a pair of peregrine falcons nested and layed 4 eggs, 2 of which hatched this week. I have spent a bit of time sat by the river, near where they have nested, with my daughter this week. It is amazing that would nest in the centre of a busy city. They are occupying St. Andrew's spire, about half way up.  I believe there is a couple in Lincoln somewhere too, and somewhere else which I can't remember, Derbyshire maybe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;As they nested there last year too there is a web cam set up so you can see them and the chicks. The council and RSPB set this up and there are volunteers there most days with a TV hooked up to the web cam etc. I have to say, I am impressed that effort has gone into this and it has given my children the chance to see them which encourages them to learn about them also. &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCOFC2qJ3MI/AAAAAAAAACk/WZf7uB7JvUY/s1600-h/PeregrineFalconAnatum%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198144678994238658" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCOFC2qJ3MI/AAAAAAAAACk/WZf7uB7JvUY/s320/PeregrineFalconAnatum%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCOFC2qJ3MI/AAAAAAAAACk/WZf7uB7JvUY/s1600-h/PeregrineFalconAnatum%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Well I dreamt about them last night, it was awful, I dreamt seagulls were attacking the nest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;and the chicks, but I think that I was one of the seagulls, I'm not sure though. I may &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCOFC2qJ3MI/AAAAAAAAACk/WZf7uB7JvUY/s1600-h/PeregrineFalconAnatum%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCOFC2qJ3MI/AAAAAAAAACk/WZf7uB7JvUY/s1600-h/PeregrineFalconAnatum%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;of been one of the falcons protecting the nest but I was definitely a bird of some description. I have never been another creature in my dreams before, it was weird. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333300;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Here are a couple of quotes to go along with a birdy theme:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"No bird ever...raced 15 miles high at triple the speed of sound. But birds do something else. They do not conquer the air; they romance it."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;— Peter Garrison&lt;br /&gt;(1943-) U.S. aviator and columnist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a style="PADDING-RIGHT: 6px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; FLOAT: left; PADDING-BOTTOM: 1px; PADDING-TOP: 1px" href="http://www.gaia.com/quotes/William_Blake"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gaia.com/quotes/William_Blake"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;William Blake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; (1757 - 1827) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Source: The Marriage and Hell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCOFC2qJ3MI/AAAAAAAAACk/WZf7uB7JvUY/s1600-h/PeregrineFalconAnatum%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5435699984218275818-231208704734009954?l=emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/feeds/231208704734009954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5435699984218275818&amp;postID=231208704734009954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/231208704734009954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/231208704734009954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/2008/05/in-city-centre-where-i-live-pair-of.html' title='Millenium Falcons??'/><author><name>emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09917550313878626164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB6_amXTh7I/AAAAAAAAAAM/nFzFuiqZGAA/S220/s666480929_1190405_7580%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCN-52qJ3KI/AAAAAAAAACU/qXi0N3iUTZ0/s72-c/1330_falcon_noburban15%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5435699984218275818.post-3033660353592674364</id><published>2008-05-07T23:05:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T23:15:52.016+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;I wish I wasn't so tired,&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCIgL2qJ3JI/AAAAAAAAACM/JfEZehE9v2E/s1600-h/sun+in+the+sky.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197752307961945234" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 159px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px" height="112" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCIgL2qJ3JI/AAAAAAAAACM/JfEZehE9v2E/s200/sun+in+the+sky.jpg" width="116" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;first thing in the morning,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I wish I had more patience&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;and more time for important things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I wish that I could sleep,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;and dream of being wish free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I wish that life was easier,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;and that help was near to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I wish to rid this feeling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;of overwhelming despair. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I wish that I had someone,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;to hold me and to care.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;But today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I wish, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;that i hadn't caught the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;ouch!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;This is a little of how I felt today, I wrote it myself, it's my first attempt at writing anything of any sort.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I did have an awful feeling of despair this morning, where I felt so ill equipped to be a parent, I so need help sometimes. But as the day went on and the sun shone I gradually felt happier. And got very burnt!! But what a relief to have some just, lovely weather at long last.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I had an odd dream last night. A man who claimed to be next doors' brother was in my house having a nap, then he was taking my dog for a walk, and I was supposed to go too, but then our children came into the dream so he made a cup of tea, all the time in my house, but not the house I live in, I didn't recognise it at all, anyway, I was just about to find out what his name was, and I woke up, &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Grrrr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;That's the most annoying &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;thing&lt;/span&gt; about my dreams, I always seem to wake at the most inopportune times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;The dream made me feel kind of invaded, but not at all threatened, it was a bit like finding an old friend or something, I had mixed feelings about it, as just finding someone in my house raises a few relevant worries for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;My leaving thought today:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;Wherever people go,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;whatever they may invent,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;they will never discover&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;anything better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;than a family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#3333ff;"&gt;-Paul Gauguin &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5435699984218275818-3033660353592674364?l=emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3033660353592674364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5435699984218275818&amp;postID=3033660353592674364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/3033660353592674364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/3033660353592674364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-wish.html' title='I wish'/><author><name>emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09917550313878626164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB6_amXTh7I/AAAAAAAAAAM/nFzFuiqZGAA/S220/s666480929_1190405_7580%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SCIgL2qJ3JI/AAAAAAAAACM/JfEZehE9v2E/s72-c/sun+in+the+sky.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5435699984218275818.post-5330031967417828967</id><published>2008-05-05T23:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T00:24:09.707+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The life of a cat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB-Ww2XTiAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/j5tHuCHysPA/s1600-h/Picture+051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197038260979992578" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB-Ww2XTiAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/j5tHuCHysPA/s320/Picture+051.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I am physically and emotionally worn out, and today I wished I was a cat, so I could curl up on a nice warm sunny spot at the window. Actually I wish that quite alot. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Why do ex's want to be friends? Why do they think I want to be? when they did the hurting, guilt? perhaps, or some odd control freak thing? There is always something he has to call or text for, then the new girlfriend has things to say too, and then everyone else. I don't really understand it and I wish I did so I could stop it. It's not even that they upset or anger me, it's like I am over it, but they don't want me to be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Just a few thoughts on ex's. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;And in answer to Simon's most recent blog, I think that in time you could reclaim the things you shared back as your own, but it will take a long time. And he is right it does feel like they were stolen.&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff9900;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;The life of a cat would be so much more simple.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;last thought before I go to sleep:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I am a woman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I am invincible&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I am tired&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;from the book Born to Shop, in praise of the modern woman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5435699984218275818-5330031967417828967?l=emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5330031967417828967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5435699984218275818&amp;postID=5330031967417828967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/5330031967417828967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/5330031967417828967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/2008/05/life-of-cat.html' title='The life of a cat'/><author><name>emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09917550313878626164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB6_amXTh7I/AAAAAAAAAAM/nFzFuiqZGAA/S220/s666480929_1190405_7580%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB-Ww2XTiAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/j5tHuCHysPA/s72-c/Picture+051.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5435699984218275818.post-6322035716407003095</id><published>2008-05-03T18:38:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T00:43:34.983+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The end of a rough time</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;I am back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;stuck in the middle of nowhere&lt;br /&gt;i was this lost sailor&lt;br /&gt;attempting to repair my broken ship&lt;br /&gt;yet trying to sail away at the same time&lt;br /&gt;going nowhere&lt;br /&gt;spending far more(time) than i should be&lt;br /&gt;i was confused&lt;br /&gt;happiness was a thing of the past&lt;br /&gt;sadness written all over the present&lt;br /&gt;future was engulfed in darkness&lt;br /&gt;treasure hunter i was&lt;br /&gt;with the keys to riches (happiness)&lt;br /&gt;safely in my hand&lt;br /&gt;i was marching towards glory&lt;br /&gt;only to trip and stumble at the last hurdle&lt;br /&gt;only to lose it all like a zombie&lt;br /&gt;i moved in and out of life&lt;br /&gt;going everywhere&lt;br /&gt;being nowhere&lt;br /&gt;i was trying to find my feet once again&lt;br /&gt;like magic&lt;br /&gt;i woke up one day and found the keys&lt;br /&gt;safely inside my pocket&lt;br /&gt;gone are the times searching for it everywhere&lt;br /&gt;gone are the days i spent wandering aimlessly&lt;br /&gt;now, like a phoenix rising out of ashes&lt;br /&gt;i was this sailor who salvaged a brand new speed boat&lt;br /&gt;all ready and raring to go out into this open ocean (of life)&lt;br /&gt;to reclaim what was once thought to be lost&lt;br /&gt;the sun had set and plunged my life into darkness&lt;br /&gt;without a light to guide, i wandered aimlessly&lt;br /&gt;going nowhere, yet going everywhere&lt;br /&gt;now, the sun is back&lt;br /&gt;with the keys in my hand&lt;br /&gt;like a giant condor&lt;br /&gt;i soar high up in the skies&lt;br /&gt;ready to take on the world&lt;br /&gt;like a banished king with a new army&lt;br /&gt;wanting to reclaim my throne&lt;br /&gt;i am back to be the best&lt;br /&gt;i am back to lead the rest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;————————&lt;strong&gt;By: Praveen 2008/04/07 Life Trackback Comments [RSS 2.0]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this poem and really felt a connection to the words. It is nice, a relief even, to know that someone else has felt the same as me at some point. It is perhaps coincidental that I would come accross this at the same time as I had just started to "see the light at the end of the tunnell" for want of better words.&lt;br /&gt;It was like I woke one day and wasn't sad anymore, and I it amazes me that it happened, just like that. This poem helped me I think, and I am glad that someone could put it into words.&lt;br /&gt;Hope it will help someone else too.&lt;br /&gt;I found it on:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.poetryoflife.com/i-am-back/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;http://www.poetryoflife.com/i-am-back/&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is alot of nice stuff there I related to quite a bit of the work. There is a poem called&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"be the best"&lt;/strong&gt; under friendship poems, which I also love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5435699984218275818-6322035716407003095?l=emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/feeds/6322035716407003095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5435699984218275818&amp;postID=6322035716407003095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/6322035716407003095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5435699984218275818/posts/default/6322035716407003095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emma-inmyownworld.blogspot.com/2008/05/end-of-rough-time.html' title='The end of a rough time'/><author><name>emma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09917550313878626164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_zVe7oSQjR88/SB6_amXTh7I/AAAAAAAAAAM/nFzFuiqZGAA/S220/s666480929_1190405_7580%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
